lovin' cup

 

I have to drag so far     to find out what I’m made of     sun bakes down     the streets are hot     can’t find my people      but I can’t shadow down     not with the heat I  got       I walked a million miles      before I got lost      got no blues     got no reds     I best buckle under before I get robbed     it’s been a hard drop     but I broke no bones      write to me      in the hospital      where I get treatment      like everyone else       don’t lock me down       don’t wind me up     fix me in situ     from your loving cup

resurrectionist

 

yesterday’s blues     are a kick in the bollocks     I try to avoid them     but they still burn me down      they poisoned my blood    with a dubious concoction    they said it was an accident      I say it was foolishness      but we all agree something went wrong        because I died on the pillow     while my mind birthed a nightmare        I was walking in my sleep     casting heavy shadows        but I could not escape       they’d locked all the doors

I really can’t recall       everything that happened     but hallucinatory fragments coalesce in horror     a gory exhumation        the dead and near dead rising    I conversed with demons who seemed familiar and fluid    and feasted with ghosts who once were friends of mine       it’s a reoccurring dream      an affliction of memory    I’ve tasted my death and it plays on my mind 

runaway

 

I’ve had thirty years      to perfect my excuses      but sometimes things just happen       for no particular reason       one day I rolled up empty        my heart was no longer in it         that place was slowly killing me         I had to escape my fate      I had to get away      

you can call me selfish      but I was made that way through pressure     I could not face the future the world had planned for me      I visited you today       to put fresh flowers on your grave         and I wondered again what might have been        if I had not run that day

how to be a man

 

the genie is out of the bottle      all magical thought is bogus      I’ll take no comfort there        I’m as good as my conscience dictates      as good as reason allows     anyway, I have nothing to defend      my ambitions are explicit    I’m striving to be human    I have no expectation of a heavenly reward      I am both innocent and worldly      blessed and cursed in equal measure      but I have it in my power to give my life meaning         the only thing that interests me now     is how to be a man

blooded

 

I fought  hard and long     I’m due my day of rest       coz I lived through my darkest hour    and I’m the stronger for it       I once had the curse      I had it something chronic     I developed me some moves     which were totally suicidal        I made an awful mess of things    and don’t expect to be forgiven     but it doesn’t really matter now    I’m just grateful for the experience        it’s been an education       I can move on with my life now      bloody nose and all

 

mystery girl

 

she was cool     a studied cool     way too cool for me     she ate me up for lunch     before she set me free     her killer vice was obvious       foot loose and fancy free        she came on like a viper        just my cup of tea      I thought this was my game      but it was not to be       perhaps I was not ready      maybe I acted foolishly       but I felt we were alike      the mystery girl and me

flat face

 

stumbled again      bashed in my napper     shook a few loose       battling with shadows     but I’m alright      I can take a kicking      I’ll be back for more      soon as my face has mended       a man must learn forbearance      if he wants to earn his freedom      he has to beat the count      every time they knock him down

beggar

 

they beat me into submission        with subtle forms of violence      and the promise of jelly roll       they found out what I was made of      and made me pay for more      I struggled to repay my debts     my back was against the wall     I couldn’t catch a break     there was no relief at all     but I did not fade away      I hung on by a thread       while the ladies of the parish      furnished me with bread     their kindness and generosity     meant I did not freeze      coz there’s no justice in a system      that keeps a man on his knees     

benediction

 

they say the darkest hour

is right before the dawn

they say all kinds of things

most of them are wrong

I’m making progress now

I’m beginning to see the light

no-one is going to save me

least of all Jesus Christ

coz the god I don’t believe in  

may be benevolent and wise

but he don’t hear my prayers

and I don’t spread his lies

 

killing time

 

solitaire again     I cheat when no one’s looking     it’s my modus operandi       I’m habitually dishonest      even with myself     have I said too much already?       do you take me for a liar?    I’ve been known to stretch the truth     in order to make a point    but don’t let that fool you    I have nothing to conceal       still, every now and then     I like to stir the pot         I could tell you stories       we all have dirty stories         if you read between the lines      I’ve shared my darkest secrets      I don’t go into details      the devil’s in the details      I’m only sketching shadows       my way of killing time  

spilled milk

 

cursed with the dark charisma        I’ve often played the villain     but I was only ever fooling      I’m not that self-important        and I don’t really care      what the world is saying     I’ve always done as I pleased      some considered me immoral        I’m not shackled by their thinking       this isn’t my soap opera        I refuse to get involved in episodic drama    milk was spilled       tears were shed      but the tears in my eyes - were from laughter

lithium

just a little salt for my wounds       an unction for my mind     there is music inside me      but I can’t name the song        I’m in remission, and that’s a blessing      but it’s harder to write, and that’s ironic        I’m not complaining      don’t get me wrong      coz I was a madman      who once swallowed lightning       I suffered in wars no sane man would fight       I don’t miss the conflict     but I miss the inspiration        I still have that hunger       I still want to write

sobriety

 

ten thousand miles straight     without so much as a taste       I’m parched      got the thirst on something chronic     what about one more hit for posterity?       let’s celebrate my sobriety with a cup of god’s own remedy…  

my fragile remission hangs in the balance       I’m excavating the roots of childhood trauma    that’s not my only story     but it’s the one that hurts the most        I took twelve steps and faltered      I know no higher power       the world now seems so heavy      my heart cries out for ease       but I’m determined to stay sober     no matter what it takes

instruments of denial

 

I’m here because I’m here      there is no other place     wherever you might find me       that’s where I’m meant to be        I’ve got to believe that, right?      coz it pays to be flexible       in this crazy, fucked up world          I have no axe to grind        no personal beliefs        I’m not shackled by creed or caste      to that extent I’m free

I keep my own councel     trust in my own eyes     I’m not playing silly buggers  here     I adopted the scientific method     of kicking arse and taking names       I’ve crafted instruments of denial      they are hidden in my head     I’m not obliged to speak       coz anything I do say      will likely count against me      if I roll off empty         and there is a judgment day

the cosmology of loss

 

you lose your heart       before you lose your mind      but you get used to it     loss is the currency of life      do you ever feel that way?         like you can’t see right from wrong?      but you know exactly where you’re at       you’re exiled on planet earth     there’s no known cure for that

me, I’m  just a dreamer       naked before the dawn      my  world will never change       the sun rises      the sun sets      the tide claws at the shore      somewhere stars are dying      while others are being born      it’s always been that way       these eyes have seen it all

torquemada

I confess my faith in idiot reason     because I’ve never known the truth     no-one ever knows for sure    questions circle like vultures      I’m not afraid of questions      but some questions can’t be answered       and some answers can’t be questioned     is love always the answer?       or is love sometimes the question?       I suppose it makes no difference to me          because I keep my own counsel      

I’m not running away      I just changed my face to fit the frame        you could say I’m in disguise      I don’t forget the things I’ve done        man, I nearly choked on them       but I got over it       and now I’m riding the gravy train         but I had to give it up     you know what I mean?     I had to give it up        pack it in and snuff it out      no embers left to fan       but there are questions       there are always questions…

peace

 

I believe peace will be my final evolutionary adaption       I have no secret ambitions      I left no stone unturned      but I still feel like a chump     it’s a question of personal power     demons assault my imagination      ghosts with billy clubs and poisoned blades    I ought to defend myself     but where do I begin?      you cannot slay a memory       you can’t murder a dream    no, violence won’t see me through      I’m just howling at the moon      the only distraction left to me    they say there’s no peace for the wicked       I’m hoping that’s not true

incurious

 

I wanted the truth       the way only fools want the truth        but, after extensive enquiries     I reached the inescapable conclusion       that there are questions          but there are no answers        meaning is arbitrary      and truth is a whore      all the remaining questions      are six feet deep     too deep for the living   

 me,  I’m in no position   to be answering questions       my bipolarchromosomes      have me hung drawn and quartered      strung out on electric wire        

I believe what I feel     and I’m as changeable as the weather       I got a telegram from Jesus     that says I’m doing fine      but I’ve been let down before      I’ve led a blessed life       biblical disappointments aside     still, I’m no wiser now       than when I started out

revolver

 

there are wrongs that cannot be buried      and there are wounds that never heal      but don’t talk to me about justice    I can’t afford justice        justice is for the rich and powerful     not for the likes of you and me      our world is an abattoir     where we fight for survival    but you can give yourself an edge     your mind is a weapon      you must use it as such     or have it used against you     

notions of justice are arbitrary        they say god is our final judge     well, god must be turning in his grave      after serial abominations       and depraved criminal conspiracies      someone murdered innocence      but they can’t pin that on me

the faithful count their burdens    and pray for forbearance       and that’s alright      I too have burdens     but I’m just a thief     so I’ll take my chances outside the law      where a man can carve his own justice     I can fend for myself     I’ve often had to      this weapon is loaded      it’s got to be loaded         or it’s no damn use to me

 

demonic

 

coming out of hospital      I suffered a century of frenzied depression      where every failure  and humiliation was played back to me on an endless loop of shame        what caused this horror show?     -  my shrink has been barking up the wrong tree here -  because it was parasitic beings    demonic possession       that’s what was wrong with me      I needed an exorcism     holy magic to wash my blood clean      a ritual sacrifice      something symbolic       a virgin whore     a calf of gold     or something of similar dimensions     instead they beat me with psychiatric clubs

with certain forms of demonic infestation     there is a crazy person who despises the human race and it’s illusions     he longs to trample them into the blood stained earth      when you hear of human atrocity     think of demonic beings      sick, depraved beings      with eyes filled with blood      and mouths full of cancer      in a world of anger and hatred    demons are the masters       they play with idle hands      and make war within tortured minds