Loser

 

I’ll salt my beer

with my own fucking tears

I tried everything twice

it always turned out bogus

why can’t I be forgiven?

who made me the enemy?

I don’t want to be on the outside

nose pressed against the window

so who wrote the rules

that made me the loser?

maybe we’re all fucking losers

did you ever think of that?

still, you’d rather lose a lover    

than love a fucking loser

don’t mind me

I’m not bitter

I’m not sweet either

I’ve been rolling snake eyes

since the game began

I can’t win for losing

it’s the story of my life

totally fucked up

 I’m totally fucked up

it’s more than an excuse

it’s symptomatic

I’m totally fucked up

but I’m not alone.

the whole world is fucked up

as is everyone in it

we’ve all been damaged

beaten and abused

draw your own conclusions

everywhere you turn you lose

coz this old world plays rough

you know how people talk

people love to talk

of life and love and liberty

but the world has heard enough

the world don’t care who you are

or how big you dream

they’re gonna monetise you

they’re gonna monetise you

if they have to crush your soul

unconditional love

 

you were always my friend

my patient companion

didn’t you feed my hunger?

didn’t you nurse my fever?

indulge my childish schemes?

haven’t you always stood by me

no matter what I’d done?

if I ever seemed ungrateful

I’m sorry for it

I’m sorry I lost myself

I think I thought

I was someone else

someone less deserving

of your unconditional love

I just wanted you to know

I treasure that sentiment

more than I cherish life itself

near dead poets

 

the only good poet     is a dead poet

isn’t that what you said?

well, I died on the pillow

I died a thousand times

does that make me Buddha

or just some lesser brand?

crimson stains on virgin sheets

bad blood pulsed through my brain

lithium once was my friend

now my deadly enemy

‘do you know where you are?’

‘in the hospital’

‘where?’

‘everywhere’

the hospital is everywhere     stretching around me    like a bloody caul   a labyrinth of endless umbilical corridors      leading off into infinity      into the dark wards       the ghost wards       of ossified patients        and patient medics        tending to the dead     

but I have words

choice words

futile words

scribbled in the shadows

falsified in blood

just another near dead poet

wallowing in the mire

tsunami

 

I have a surge on   babelogue    scripture in the mother tongue   I love the weight    the rhythm    the cadence   of the words   as they accost the senses   a cymbal’s clash    the lightning flash     the rap of the machine gun     fuse in the imagination       is this some kind of magic?     is there substance to words?   how can they fill me up?    I’m fit to burst with the teeming    spilling    explosion of them    out there in the world there are tiny silences    little gaps    begging to be filled     in here there’s a cacophony of sound and colour screaming to get out    my head is a rain forest    a railway station    an ocean reef     I surf on a tsunami of words    crashing onto the snow white page

anecdotal

 

thanks for the coffee

and the stories too

in a world of actors

you hold your own

but I aint buying

I’m selling

I’m not a consumer

I’m purely product

this shit doesn’t just happen

I had to stitch each piece by hand

it took some time

and a little imagination

but just feel the quality of the material

my fiction has an unlikely provenance

a thousand hands sculpted its features

with brute force and ignorance

but the lies contained herein

were honestly acquired

 

punch drunk

 

every story needs a villain      might as well be me       coz I’m no fucking good      but you’re stuck with me     all I want from you is the killer blow      the coup de grace     another round       one more drink     should kill me off     don’t worry, I won’t blame you       I have a conscience      but it’s slender       no, I wouldn’t blame you      I’d blame myself     I’m getting that heavy feeling again     I’m all beat up      totally punched out      I’m not the man I thought I was        that cunt thought he could fly       but I’m paralysed      from the neck up      too many blows to the head       too much poison in my cup     I feel I’m halfway dead     I do believe I’ve had enough

je suis un zombie

 flashback       big piranha      deep in my gut

back to my cubicle

curtained in         (do not disturb)

locked out

tubed up

and glued down

the shadow of a man

the simulacrum of a corpse

I couldn’t even scream

 ‘do you remember your name?’

‘do you know where you are?’

‘do you recognise me?’

don’t ask me questions     

I know nothing   

je suis un zombie

the man death left behind

I have tasted her deadly promise

and it festers in my mind

fallen

 

I fell from the sky

and broke all my bones

gravitational force

just won’t let me go

 

I fell from the sky

but I proved I can fly

most people don’t

and they never ask why

 

I fell from the sky

believe me, its true

I fell from the sky

and so did you

 

we fell from the sky

to make this our home

perhaps we made a mistake

but at least we’re not alone

 

iodine

 

I walked into a door     or the door walked into me      I got the usual cuts and bruises       nothing to scratch home about      I’ve taken some beatings      and maybe I’m better for them     but I think I’ve learned my lesson      I think I got things straight      I’m not the man I was         and that’s cause to celebrate

no excuses, no regrets

 I’ve seen the action replays       from every conceivable angle       my life was a catastrophe     a comedy of errors      but if you could see the world through my eyes       you’d know why I’m laughing     let me turn you on     this world is a pantomime        the players only fools    and I’m the greatest fool of all      I walked through the fire     four sheets to the wind     and given the opportunity      I’d do it all again     I make no excuses        and harbour no regrets       I try to live in moment      every once in a while      I’d stop to count my blessings       but it’s simply not my style    

greed

 

money makes the world go round      and I could always use more      does that make me greedy?      the whole world is greedy       obscenely greedy     don’t put yourself on      the name of the game is greed      the devil makes his home     in the avaricious heart     so how far would you go       to get the things you want?       would you sell your soul?      would you stop to count the cost?        do you want what you need?     or do you need what you want?     you can’t take it with you when you die       there is no wealth but life