winter rain

 she was too good to me      I could never repay her kindness        a certain amount of magic        is necessary in love          but all magic comes at a price      my pockets were empty       but my head was loaded        any other weapon      might have proved less destructive        but I’m a killer        with a killer’s destiny      she spoke to me        about heroin     and death      and love        she tried to rehabilitate me        but my heart was still captive       to the oriental curse       and I rewarded her devotion         with slow burning indifference       I smothered her with darkness         and left her in the winter rain

the yule tide

 it’s something o’ clock     on the astral calendar      that time of the year     I’m put in the stocks     cause I am tangential      to the status quo      too fucked up     to go with the flow        I’m all jammed up     and glued to the spot       because hell is social     but I am not

 

I’m out of sync        with the conversation      another symptom       of my growing alienation          a greyish catastrophe     unfolds behind my eyes       as another fraction          withers away and dies       it’s the same old singer      it’s the same old song        something      somewhere      is going wrong

nauseous

 I spent my last afternoon burning foil        every day I went to the well        till one day my bucket sprang a leak         the arse fell from the world       nausea had my throat         and I was humping air and filthy water       I’d found the entrance       to the 7^th level of hell         I was dissolving in a puddle of puke           my revulsion was purely organic           borne on waves of reflux action        I was sickened so deep my organs ached        my ego has taken a bruising        but I’m bound to get lucky someday     I’ll come back and buy this town      smother the bitch with gasoline       and burn it to the ground

the dreaded love machine

  if only  in my head    I always felt free      let’s call it cheeky    or maybe libertine       I seize opportunity       rock hard  and ready     sheathed in latex gloves        I’ve more than once been mangled       by the dreaded love machine       but I have no regrets      no bitter feelings      more than once I figured      I was only dreaming

there are no substitutes in this life         everything that is      is what it ought to be        we are all just dreamers      and this is just a dream        but keep the channels open         you can call on me    I will not be defeated        by the dreaded love machine   

the colours of the night

the moon was slung real low       in a big lazy coupe de ville     so close I could have smashed her windows        but I don’t carry no stones in my pockets       I’m merely  packing bones        I beat the sun into an early submission         it’s gonna be dark       for some time to come

the world has dissolved at my fingertips        I know every colour of the night      they were revealed to me          one layer at a time     it’s not so confusing           I saw it for a second         it flickered in and out        the symmetry of being      has never been in doubt

drop da bomb

 drop da bomb      on all gods and monsters

drop da bomb      on the alpha dogs

drop da bomb      on the smiling killers

drop da bomb      on the social network

drop da bomb      on the tower of babel

drop da bomb      do us all a favour

drop da bomb      end this slurry culture

drop da bomb      before it’s too late

the fifth wound

 this is the year of the locusts       the season of the pig       they dragged me to golgotha        and tried to paint me red          don’t ghost me now        just because you can       you might need a friend       further down the line        it’s a small world      and that’s a fact     we were bound to meet again      I drew strength from that           I’m counting once for sorrow        and hoping twice brings joy        I don’t pray for silver     I only pray for gold              so  come on help me out       minister to my wounds       don’t pin me up again        with your psychosexual harpoons

vampire weather

 it’s gone dark oppressive       in the nether latitudes      where we are imprisoned in endless night        there are suckers here        who’ll bleed you dry       they’ll steal your words       and feed you lies      I stand accused of the things that I said      but I won’t beg for mercy         I’ll never kneel      or bow my head       I’ll strike no deals with my oppressors     you know I’m not crying           coz I don’t feel sorry       the night is seeping in         but I don’t seem to worry

mister machine

 my outside woman        stole my sleep        that’s okay        I got my inside woman to cook my meat        she won’t drag me down        and she won’t turn me loose        she loves me like a friend      coz we have a thing        that shines in the dark       she don’t care where I go        as long as I come back

 I’m as regular    as clockwork      straight as a die       and crooked as life       no-one tells me what to feel         or where to go      or when to sleep       do as I will      that’s  the whole of my law        I got the mambo    and the strawberry jam       I do what I want         just coz I can

 I wasn’t meant to be tied down      I have too many friends         doing my rounds         I may be losing all my wagers      but I still feel lucky         I’m still in the game       I’ll go down loving        I have no choice       I’m mister machine         lighter than air        they say that I’m bad       but I don’t seem to care

lies

 got banged up         for telling porkies                wasn’t the first time           won’t be the last             lies are social lubrication             truth is a pill       that’s hard to swallow       lies are a common human currency            truth is a jewel beyond comparison                       so rare that no-one sees it    if it stares them in the face           I’m saving mine for maximum impact                      it’s my secret weapon          my get out of jail free card                         the final resort         when lies won’t suffice

sister midnight

 she sees meat          where otherwise serpents shine  she carves deep      her bloody policy             seeks only to divide            I knew her long ago     in the once upon a time    but we were never friends            and she’s no kin of mine               here comes the night         the night that bears her name                   this bed of nails was a gift of design she said our wounds would keep us honest                       but that was just  a lie        she left  her mark on me                      and taught me not to promise        things I can’t  deny she came to me a refugee       there was some truth behind her lies           she knew I was a thief        but I never picked her pockets                       and she never asked me why                      but we shared a century of torments                       under midnight skies

purple hearts

 you’ve been busted comrade                  we know where you sleep      we have this place surrounded                        your delusional thinking                will not go unpunished             you are not immaculate                        you are just criminal          and you have no friends                   you shall face the scaffold         totally alone

some say that genius         is an affliction of the mind   that torment inspires beauty       and the hand of god  has blessed the afflicted                with his loving touch                   but they’re yanking your chain              madness is a lesion of the heart              a slashing torment of the soul                 and no-one hands out purple hearts     for self inflicted wounds

Gethsemane

 are you one of the beautiful people?   

were you provided the opportunity to shine?

you need a friend who can hold you up           

I know where you can cut a new deal

but you gotta get righteous

buy the t-shirt

and tread the path

that leads to glory

you’ll find new friends

among old enemies

making deals

in public lavatories

coz loaves and fishes

don’t mean shit

when your pockets are empty

and you’re dying for a fix

Abercorn Beach

 did you get some peace   when peace was offered?   or is your hatred still a sacred cow?    did you stick to your guns   is that a virtue?   yes   I know the words    but I won’t sing along

anger is stupid   and stupidity kills    so dig me a hole   right next to yours    I’m no genius    neither are you   but I can see   that victory is impossible   in a war between friends

there is only losing    in your philosophy    the final blow   will leave us both morbid   and stranded on the shingles    with memories of drowning boys    who were taken away early   by the ebb of a turning tide   

astrology

 bleeding out between the stars

it was written in my sky

that I was born of the night

to be bioelectrically crazy

and idle to the bone

but it’s not such a raw deal

how can I complain?

when midnight serpents shine

in gardens misty wet with rain   

and even the constellations

are pounding out my name

existential

 this place    burns me out                 with wearisome  repetition    its suburban cliché                   weighs heavy       on my doldrums          and I’m drowning          in an ocean     of sundays            I’ve gone native    in the great nocturnal        I’m flying solo       from now on in   but I'll bail out     before I’m found out              for I have deviated         from the norm so blanket me                with tar and feathers                lead me to the killing floor                   I’ve had enough of the social system        my heart is heavy dread and my bloody knees are sore

paint me blue

 I fled my perch        on a promise            dived head first     into your blues        your terrible ocean blues              you were snake oil and gold dust                        half pretence           half mystery             I fell for you  like the sucker         you took me for                        ‘call me sometime’             that’s what you said           but I lost your number                     along with my head                        you seemed  bona fide                  your credentials were good       but I wasn’t committed      just passing through           what was the catalyst            for my change of heart?        I don’t remember        was it something you said?      the lies that you told?               the tears that you shed?                        you painted me blue                      I painted you red                   I can’t reach you now            why would I want to?        your facts were all fictions     I’ve been once bitten                     and that left its mark

raven

 death is the bird            perched on your shoulder                   who counts your days             and marks out your time                that song is mine                 and never grows older               so bake me some cake           that was hard in the making                 this world belongs           to my children and I

I’ve gone alfresco              from no television        I gather my news    straight from the vine               we’re crashing out            to another dimension          these shoes were insured        for sunnier climes         I poured me some sense               from an unopened bottle            and drank me a truth         that won’t be denied

if you see it      you’ll be it     so don’t get excited              this train will roll     to the end of the line               I can hear music        wrapped up in thunder         I know the words    that make us divine              I’m like the raven              that carries you over      and paints you immortal       if you’re so inclined  

 

the ministry of filth

 if you look for dirt               you’re bound  to find it                        like attracts like                   that’s the law  of intent                        did you run out of pockets?       have you lifted                     more than you can chew?        you better give me everything                        before I wind up dead                    the pigs strip searched my mind                    prima facie evidence                   suggested I was ripe                       there’s something wrong with my brain                        it’s a simple mind bender              from way back when                   did you see them?              did you see my pornographic hands?                did you get my text?                      do you finally understand?             this is the ministry of filth                 and you are in command

mister natural

 old acquaintances              can make for strange bed fellows               more like accomplices than lovers             but this is no next time round                  I’m no blast from the past                        I’ve been authenticated                        as 100% organic                        the totally genuine article             issued in nineteen timbuktu                    

I’m not packing remedies             in my duffel bag                        you can’t count on satisfaction        coz I’m just a minor distraction              and strictly pay for view             you got my name and number                        if you ever catch the blues           tho I might not come running               the way you want me to

soot

I’ve got rockets in my pockets        my fingers are black with soot      I have a full load on      and I’m taking a dive      with a head full of feathers      I get so high it’s obscene     when I get my shit together       and I get my shit together     more often than I should

others might turn to god     but I turned to ashes      I tweaked my mind against babylon’s machinery             this is the secret of happiness       disputed through the ages      in a simple benediction         that ancient curse  of the orient       the fabled pipe of peace

weathered

 poor boy plays his flute       to a herd of goats     grazing in the dunes       sunny side up      what’s that the symbol of?       the grass is always greener       on my side of the dream         the tapping on my window pane     sets another scene      it’s heavy weather       the sky is grey       the rain pours down       dismal as an infant’s funeral

some days I drag the low end         but it doesn’t matter    it doesn’t bother me        I won’t be writing any suicide notes     on that account        I’m not fixing to die anytime soon       I just began learning how to live        I have  circumstances to accommodate     and those can be a bitch       I can’t complain    but I will anyway

I roll out of bed        a tsunami of shit     sweeps me off my feet      and leaves me gasping on the wakeful shore      these are the heavy latitudes       and the days land hard      dark and oppressive        this is the land of ghosts  and ancient lore       the land of violence and suicidal rage     I have firewater in my veins     and fear in my heart   these last million miles  have worn me thin       one good rain could wash me down the drain       to dissolve like baby aspirin      in a pool of baby tears

I’m wedded now      to this heavy heart       to have and hold     until death we do part   I’m just a dog without a bone      still fighting a war     that ended long ago      a typhoon picked me up and shook my shadow loose      the pieces have fallen back to earth     but my light casts no warmth        and  I’m not the man I pretended to be      back in the day        before the deluge       swept me away

heavenless

 there are no wise men      and no magical beings      you are as slick       as this sideshow gets       there will be no epiphany        no sudden revelation         just a gradual unwinding         and stripping away      we'll find no asylum here          no place to rest our heads         we are all of us refugees        from the world on fire         we have no home on high       and no-one waiting there        the troubles that we face         won't be resolved through prayer

judas goat

 

we’re all of us tethered         to the same parked car       gullible imbeciles         overfed and entertained      it was a barrel load        in the bygone         but now it makes my bones ache        and I’ve been running on vapours       these last ten million miles      I’ve seen road kill        with more juice that I got        I’d better buck up my ideas sharpish       or they’ll pension me off to the judas goat       he don’t read no bedtime stories       he renders meat from chumps like me

fluid dynamic

 I’m buoyed up       by the love apparent         in a single ray of sunlight       refracting  brand new colours      no-one knows the names of      

I’m weighed down      by the phases  of the moon     or the waning of the tides    coz whatever turned me on      has burned me out     

so I just go with the flow      it’s the jellyfish in me      the forces that set me in motion        the oceans I drift in       have worn me smooth      and fluid dynamic       

secret songs

I was only singing a secret song    en sotto voce   so no-one else would hear     and try to sing along       do you dig it?        do you want to hear more?     come and dance for me    get out of bed    give me a turn    you move like a killer   but I’m not concerned         if you dance for me now       I’ll sing you some more       I’ve got songs      that have never been sung        if you dance for me now        I’ll let you hear one

the living and the dead

 we’ve all made mistakes        I know I have      nothing I can’t live with         but nonetheless regret      it doesn’t pay to linger        I try not to invest too much time        dwelling on the past        half my friends are dead        that’s how old I am          halfway dead        I should concern myself with the living      and waste no prayers on the dead        the  dead are beyond concern        which is more than I can say for myself

vagrant

 that’s my space over there      best pal       right out on the fucking ledge         a cracked bowl     in a beggars lap          diving for change        instead of pearls       specifically deselected         by unseen hands           and opted out       before I began        my days are short       but my nights are tall          and I’m too tired     to deal with it all  

I must have nodded off          at the wheel        coz I’ve come-to at an angle         forbidden by the cops          but I’m still sunny side up        you have to love it all       for surely there’s a plan       and in the kingdom come       we shall live to see         nobody pays no rent            and all the drinks are free 

3 am

 I need medicine      god’s own brand      just a taste      will ease the pressure     I’ve been breeding     tiny monsters     under my skin      too much dope      or far too little         for an accurate diagnosis        I need an exorcist         or rehabilitation       but I’ll settle for sleep       and a gentle touch      feed me words       with kind intentions       it’s 3 am        and I’m strung out       take a cab       meet me in the middle        we can weep together       till the sun comes up

blackout

 I got my shit together       just in case      my shit is required        but why should it be?      coz the hour grows late        and I grow tired      I’m a surplus being      no strings attached       all I recall      is the rudimentary      no cause for concern     we suspected this much        all along       it starts with a whimper          ends with a bang        you go on ahead         I’ll set my alarm         and wait for the blackout        and my moment of calm

zombies

 all the zombies come out at night       to shine like dismal stars      the spectacle of youth      with venom in its veins     there are children turning on tonight       who won’t see the light of day     they weigh their gear against their souls     to touch the face of god      in some minor cut rate heaven      reserved for whelps and strays       

the liquor of the poppy      as pure as mothers milk   is an instant panacea      for whatever spirits plague you     but it’s the death of inspiration       and the herald of despair     tonight the dead are dancing       to their funeral songs     it’s invitation only       a secretive affair     no-one sees their bacchanal     and no-one really cares