jezebel

I’ve seen those small town heroes     set fast on their local trajectory      I hear their whispers    I see their sneers     those champions of pathos would crucify me    if they had the balls to dare

it was worse for her     I was a cut rate casanova      while she was a slut     the jezebel spirit    we issued flat denials      swore upon the good book     that was my gift to her   an oily tongue    and loosely held beliefs     that obscured our partial truths    but we were still condemned by wagging tongues

they  lynched us with filthy rope     and shamed us with their ugly words      they painted us as dirty       for the love we had stolen      and the promises we’d broken        but I’d do it all again       without a second thought

I said words for her     which were stolen by the wind     and never reached her ears       but I wonder if she felt them     and if I’m feeling hers now

listen to the Creature EP

isolation

 

up here in the northerly latitudes         the winter nights fall heavy   dark and oppressive   this is the land of ghosts  and ancient lore     the land of violent intent and suicidal rage     I have firewater in my veins and fear in my heart

these covid months have worn me down       one good rain could wash me down the drain       to dissolve like baby asprin in a tsunami of shit 

I got shown the red card              nourishment for my isolation   that deck was loaded from the start            I never stood a chance     my beauty was never reflected in any mirror           or in the eyes of some star crossed lover   I’m an entity of singular proportions   deftly shuffled to the bottom of the pack

I guess I am an island after all     one of a chain         an archipelago of silence   set in an ocean of sorrowful remembrance

I ought to disinfect my tears     before I drink from the well          have you brought the gasoline?   may I remind you of the fear      before we revert to our feral geometry?       in the end it’s a question of authority                    I lack the proper certification     though they buried me months ago

 

 listen to the Creature EP

Fleabag

 

I’ve seen your bubonic lymph nodes               and your ripper smile       you’ve gone fleabag      and I won’t touch your unclean thing            not at these rates       so ring your parish bell             and  roll out your dead         we’ll cart them off to the knacker’s yard        just don’t touch their skin              you’ll catch the dread apprehension from a dead man’s skin

and don’t you lay in a dead man’s bed     there are critters nestled there between those covid sheets     that  will bleed you dry    and fill your lungs with broken glass    that’s a gasping wheezing death      a fish out of water    drowning in air    

flesh of my flesh     flowering corruption     what malignant monsters lurk within?            I got the saint vitus itch from a reckless encounter           at an afternoon séance             my death has been scheduled       for a month on sunday   I was lucky to get the slot              it’s their busiest time

listen to the Creature EP

emperor of dystopia

disinfect me a postcard         issue me a missive        I can’t reach you           on this line           and I have no means of transportation            venomous snipers                  nest in my shoes   but I have other shoes           and sometimes   I walk                   and sometimes I crawl        and sometimes      I don’t do anything at all             I’m not elastic enough                for a life in limbo                    treading  water      dreading  time         I’m cutting out           for an alternative reality                 where I’m the emperor of dystopia                   the last living giant                on a planet filled with pygmies                our world is dying now                 please help us knit a new one                 before we run out of wool

listen the the Creature EP

poor cow

 

I was unaware of her darker dimensions    she’d been caught in the gaslight    but she wasn’t crazy    she was just weary       she made it easy for me to cross her killing floor    and told me with some certainty    that we had met before    we  coupled in a frenzy    but in completely different zones

in the languorous haze    of the afternoon sun    I stared at her breasts    heaving as she drew each labouring breath beneath me     and I drove home my seed      there amidst the tall grass     and I hated her then     I loathed her    as I wanted her    the flies surrounded     her corpulent flesh     I saw her dead in her rictus gaping     and the fecund detritus of her lust     and I knew it was over    before it had ever begun

you know the score    when you’ve done the dirty    you see the evidence    everywhere you go    nobody knows     your dirty little secret    and if nobody knows     why should you care?     but you know that’s the problem     and that’s a burden     you simply cannot share

I have an oily tongue    that’s my magic    but isn’t a denial just a confession?   an omission simply a lie?       lies will kill you in the end     they either grind you down  by degrees uncounted      or they snuff you out without a trace     because you’re less than human in someone else’s accounting

listen to the Creature EP

 

plandemic polemic

 

man     you’re too clever by half

for those lockdown shackles

you got no mask

and no manners    

but I’m stoked for you

you must be a magic boy

a real rain maker

with total immunity

I bet you’ve been sanitized

by some born again ding dong

with a hard on for revelations

 

but burn the plandemic polemic

and leave me some head space

I still need to navigate an uncertain ratio

cause I’m on the death watch

I’ve  gone cold   

I’ve  gone stone cold

I succumbed to the common pathology

and won’t answer the door

I’m just clean out of reach

stretched beyond endurance

and counting my breaths

between my covid sheets

listen to the Creature EP

Clockwork Monkey

I cannot explain my existence    I never learned the sequence     mine was a comic wilderness   filled with oppressive beings     high on illusionary power   bought and paid for with my sweat and toil    I was so tired of being shoehorned into those awkward instances      I turned on to the dark    to get my business fixed   some use smooth words for ragged purpose    they beguile to deceive     and I was only too willing to be deceived

 I’d seen his face before    but we all have    he served me black wine     I drank it greedily     straight from the bottle     it filled me up     and I became a beast   my face is fluid now    it can take on many forms     and though I speak with the tongue of angels      my heart is dark and empty     I’ve been totally locked out     but he has the master key

all words are instrumental     that’s what he taught me    the real power resides in the space between the curses   invocations   and fragrant lies   that’s the space between naked intent and imagination    words are snares for the unwary   and weapons in the hands of others   he had words to raise the dead    and to bury the living     he made me his sounding brass    he wound me counter clockwise    and set me against myself     just another clockwork monkey     clamouring for the sun  

listen to the Creature EP

covid sheets

 

another cold grey start has shrunk my knackers for the specimen jar     bring out your covid sheets     and deliver us your dead     Beelzebub’s children swarm in for the warmth of my brain pan      I’m in the kitchen     wearing my butcher’s apron     I’m dissecting the dreams you bequeathed me      looking for some that match mine     from back in the days when I could still see your smile

I should have been there to hold your hand    I should have been there in my mortuary clothes    but I’m all choked with the consumption and my blackened lungs heaving      you were eaten by moths    in yet another night of dread apprehension     this is the land of the viral load    where we deal in the deadly statistics transmitted to us in bulletins

I shall mourn you in the privacy of my own bubble    my agonies augmented by local enthusiasts   who smother me with their cold indifference and carefully rehearsed denials     I just let everybody do what they have to do     there are priority listings for those on the rise     and cardboard coffins for distant cousins     who shall never witness another false dawn

I must be paranoid   because I’m the only jailor in this prism       I locked myself down and threw away the keys long before the plague arrived     all my highs are from outside my head     I’m just a mirror for the sickness of the world     symptomatic of a deeper malaise    that makes demons of us all       I shall weep for us from within my simulation     you can gather my tears from social media     to anoint your fevered brow       before you fetch a big policeman to show me to the door

listen to the Creature EP 

sharks

she spoke red     it’s a very old trick    but it gets your attention     like a loaded gun      but whatever she said    I paid  no mind     it didn’t mean nothing     she was  just having fun      I’m the same     when it gets down to it     and it gets down to it     often enough

you have to dig deep    if you’re gonna crash out    but you got to stay sharp    when you slip your collar   you must forge your papers    and murder the past   we were both killers     honed to perfection    too well matched    to do no harm

they tell me baby sharks    eat their siblings    I know people     who are worse than that    they think they are special    because they feel no fear    that’s completely reflexive     but it sets them apart      I’ve  been bitten more than once      but she bit deepest       she could still take a piece        any old time she wants

hear the Creature EP

rubber knives

to whom it may concern    two can play at your game    don’t tread on my stones    I’m only setting my papers in order    because you murdered me   with innuendo     accusations     and bitter lies    call the waiter   there are vermin in my soup   

you tapped my wires     rifled my drawers   and embezzled my contents   just for the malice in it    you took my anguish and fashioned it into nails    then you pinioned me on charges     no-one had ever heard of    but don’t cry baby    you were only doing your job     and I was only doing mine

my bones are heavy    from your excuses    you saw an opportunity     the same size as your boots      so you weighed in    I might have done the same  myself      if I was a cunt    your new friends had hard junk faces    wrinkled dead like burst balloons     scary in their pit bull nightmares      full of toothless bite and spit    weeping from an excess of white lightning  

theirs is the zombie flesh rising     some say it tastes like chicken    but everybody knows it’s pork    I’d zap ‘em all straight in the fucking brain pan  rattle their sensitivities    the alky villains who stole my coat     looked just like you do     lonesome    confused      and in search of a decent fit

they says it’s easier to forgive your enemies than your friends    I’m not crying    I see your deception as a gift     but what an ugly loveless life to choose      I’m not cut out for this   I’m not real enough    I’m just your puppet     a demon conjured by mistake    most of the demons around here were once angels who were stabbed in the back by their friends     or else they are the tarts that did the stabbing

obey

 

acid flashback   piranha guts   I got the fear on   I’m all body quake   and adrenal expulsion   it’s that weary old fight or flight paradigm   but I go by the numbers   it’s just a question of time    before I shake it off

 

the margins are minuscule   In this cruel season   It’s hard enough to raise a smile    never mind a buck   I rise when the sun sets   and bathe in the dark   scant reward    for all the bareback adventures   and romantic misdemeanours    that blot my copy book  

 

my chapped lips and a caffeine smile   reveal the morbidity in my inner ape   my silver tongue and leaden heels    have me hobbled in the starting blocks    those softer metals conduct static to the brain pan   and my blood impurities leave a tell-tale stain on the deep inside    but there’s no point in concealment      no-one gives a fuck what’s written there anyway

 

fear is the prime motivator    fear is the reflex action    it’s fear that makes the world go round    fear binds our colonies of fragile exiles   and legions of patient coffin fillers    macabre in our fleshy fascinations    nauseated by the differences of being   hungry for the blood of innocents    but fearful of the shock of discovery    and the blinding light of reason

 

there shall be no moment of rapture   the usual terms and conditions apply  there is only one enemy and it shows no mercy   fear knows the darkest secrets that occupy our hearts   and births the tiny demons that tear our lives apart   there is but one commandment   it was forged here in the dark

bedlam

I’ve been writing rubber cheques again   no problem really   it’s the thought that counts   right?    I was looking for solutions   but only found new problems    they say all problems are illusions of the mind   I say the need for illusions runs deep    it’s far better to struggle with illusions than with reality

 

according to science   a couple of twisted chromosomes     make me a madman    but madmen are alright   madmen are trying to fix things    what kind of things?    tiny things   like lives    so stick a little nembutal up my arse    blur my edges    numb my nuts    sort me out with psycho quackery    help me find a better place

 

I know where the edge is     because I’ve been over    that’s how I ended up here   this place is bedlam   it’s full of madmen   but madness is relative    it all depends whose cage you are in   but I see you    can you see me?  I’m one of those chumps who think too deeply     clever men think clearly   but we madmen think deep

 

I’m being eaten slowly by my thoughts     consumed by my feelings   I wonder what it means to die   do I consider myself alive?     sometimes I want to flee this awful place    but the devil I know has a compelling argument   all things considered I’m better off where I am     just where else would a madman go?

listen to the Creature EP