semiotics

 back to square one      early doors       the milkman cometh    my war against sleep wages on      I’m sick again       wretched with it      my mind is in meltdown      there’s no silence left      not with the newsflash      the commercial breaks      and incessant chattering idiocy of the internet       there’s little sense to the information age      we’re in it for the money        we murdered god      and filled the void with primetime cheesecake       this culture  is universally flaccid     a succession of fragmented sensation      and random nostalgia      I’m sickened of it      I overdosed on signification      I’m puking my guts up on the swirl of empty meaning       back to square one      early doors      the milkman cometh…

it’s all in our imagination

don’t know about you      but my heart ain't in it        this is not my idea of a good time    hard knocks       tough questions      tougher lessons...     excuse me     I lost your signal     I phased out     heavy-lidded     a little stoned     vulnerable to kryptonite     went all buddha for a moment    the sun    the moon    the sky        never said I had a better way       there is no clearer route than your own heart     

you were mindful for the moment     you  kicked your shoes off and danced      and you scoped me out     with the most exacting eyes        gripped with power and wonder        can’t you hear the summer calling?     she calls on you by name         she didn’t want to be alone       she remembers the things we used to do      drunk on nectar in the season of promise     it’s all in my imagination      is it ever that way for you?

bluebottles

I was my natural self     being in a particular groove    when I was accosted by bluebottles     they was low types     full of guile and craft    and tried to locate my stash     by rifling my pockets     they were due a disappointment   coz I’d already imbibed      and was well off my rocker    yeah   herb means life, or so jah say     everybody’s doing it nowadays      I was indignant and stood on my rights      they got suss      and fled through the night      but the war on drugs is never over      we’re bound to meet again      on another sorry day

outside women

another outside woman     is borrowing my clothes        she’s got my name and number       that’s about all she knows         she doesn’t bother to feed me      and I don’t really care       coz we’re only buying time       while her man’s not there       it’s become the well-worn ritual       we don’t talk that much       we keep it nice and simple     and communicate by touch      it’s a temporary arrangement      we can always walk away     but she likes to keep me stashed nearby    for a rainy day

pyrite

don’t mind me    I’m just a basic guy     with extravagant needs     but a man’s got to live      as he sees fit     there’s no secret ambition     burning holes in my pockets     I’ve got natural medicine      to spell me some cheer       they say it’s a weakness       but I don’t really care      some diversions are sacred       like words from the bible     so don’t shoot me down       until you hear what the deal is      your complete satisfaction     could be moments away

heavy arithmetic

it’s a heavy arithmetic       that measures out the hours     and subtracts the days      time spent more in hope than reason        our rusted factory eyes lack lustre     they’re fixed on horizons far away       where our dreams now live in exile      and yesterday’s tomorrows accumulate decay       is it true what I heard you say?       you made a binding promise       that you would wait forever     forever and a day

screwfaces

sometimes      often     I don’t want to go out      I don’t want to go out     mixing with them screwfaces      don’t get me wrong      I’ve worn faces      we’ve all worn faces     but you know faces     you can’t rely on faces     any more than words      they make you look       and you don’t want to look      but they make you look     and then you see      that faces conceal      and faces mislead      no, you can’t trust the faces      in this neighbourhood  

weirdo

 I’m a rocket    totally psychiatric    but I’m authentic     a genuine individual      I count it a privilege      to play the local freak     it’s not like I really care    coz I was never normal        but sometimes I’ve been free      I can fly in the face of reason     that might sometimes seem eccentric       but I’ve been wired    rewired    and strung out on the limbs of some unfamiliar trees     it suits me that I’m a weirdo     I don’t care what anyone says      I’ve never worn the shackles of social conformity

treasures

those memories    that echo sunlight forever held within your mind worth more than gold or tea from China these are the treasures of your life

tribal

did you scan the broken icons?     the debris of heroic purpose?     the fetishes of pain?   here's another dismal harvest of broken bodies and perished dreams       security through violence      no world without us      we kill to live     and live to kill   I'm in awe of the awful symmetry in that design    I understand the tribal imprint      the allure of us and them      but I'm a little older now      and no longer play the game     that doesn't mean I'm safe      it simply means I'm sane

entangled

it takes two to tangle     in the dog eat dog      but I’m resting my voice      before I take another pounding    my opening gambit       was all cotton candy      but my final word      meant nothing at all     I’ll ease on out      on my magic pillow     to take a repast    that’s at least free of sorrow     I might be back     I might not bother     but if I do change my mind     you’ll see me tomorrow

cyclops

there are no flies on you     coz you’re the dog’s bollocks      and the sun shines out of your arse     you’re quicker than the devil     but more grounded in reality      you’re so single minded in your every conceit       and brother you can talk      you can talk yourself blue     chew my fucking ears off   go on, demonstrate the folly of your words      you hate this      you hate that       the world pisses you off...      truth is a matter of ingenuity    we are what we pretend to be      and you pretend to be wise      but your wisdom is a ticket to hell     coz shit gets under your skin     there’s no defect in your vision     you’re just selectively blind    you’re so busy with the wrong      you refuse to see the light     that the good outweighs the bad      to anyone with sight

 

 

torquemada

questions circle like vultures    but I’m not running away    I’m running towards   I 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 on 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    always questions      I’m not afraid of questions    I have one for you    what the fuck do you want?     you don’t have to answer    you might not know the answer     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 secrets     and bear my stripes without complaint

 

denial

 some lies are more useful than facts       some facts are too hard to bear     I’ve often indulged to excess    in sex and drugs and wine    and lost myself in the labyrinth   of my fickle polluted heart       of all the liars in the world     the human heart reigns supreme     but then it’s easier to disseminate falsehoods      than it is to tell the truth     things are made to happen     somebody makes them happen     so never do anything     you can’t later deny    surely facts mould fictions   and the truth is often eclipsed    by something more convenient    these are not just words     this is my religion    I am my own god      here to drink and fuck and fight   and my truth is beautiful     even if it’s hard to swallow    because the truth feels like an insult   to people in denial     but let me tell you this     there is one great truth    there is one great lie     they amount to the same     they can both be denied

 

teflon

 I won’t cry foul    I never was a victim    I play the hand that’s dealt me     and accept the consequences    so go ahead and cast your stones     no one is above criticism     but some bear other’s faults      jealous tongues spread bad news    and magnify the false     but I’ve broken no earthly law    save the laws of prudery      I sleep wherever I’m welcome     and reap whatever I sow     my critics only strengthen me     their inhibitions make me bold     my difference is a source of pride      I’m unaffected by the crowd    but if I walked a mile in their tight shoes      I might just hate me too      I’m a libertine by nature     I never followed rules     and I refuse to be held accountable by puritanical fools

thieves

the first theft was an apple       I hope it tasted sweet     that was a long time ago     now everyone’s a thief     I was glad to steal for you     and you were happy too     was that just a little extra gravy?     or something heavier still?    in hindsight was it wicked?     would you rather beg than steal?   is it a curse to have a conscience?     does your conscience bother you?    you reveal your state of mind  in everything you do     right and wrong     good and bad    the mirror in your heart    reflects the world you see    a cat might have to steal     just to make ends meet      you’ve got to put food on the table     and that shit don’t come cheap     each of us is a fragment of an imperfect world     heaven and earth are ten thousand things    but we are thieves and nothing else    here is the fruit of knowledge    stolen from the vine     if you would perfect your being    you must master your desires    or learn to think like a thief     and steal everything you can     whatever your dharma holds     you’ll come to understand     all roads lead to consciousness     it’s part of the master plan

 

lies

 I like to drink    but I only with my friends     I don’t care to drink with strangers     I have to factor in my concentration     got to keep my story straight        my lies always carried more weight than my truths   after all, lies are the common currency    truths are rare as diamonds     I save the truths for the people I trust     what do you say to that?    I don’t know what to say myself      it’s not my place to say     but what do you think?     coz I don’t know what to think    I never knew what to think  I always moved in the wrong direction    is that symptomatic of a poor education?    I could blame my past       but with little conviction       I’ve always been the victim of my own machinations    I couldn’t care less now     but I suffered then     nobody suffers like the poor      and I was impoverished in spirit      I could tell some stories      we all could tell some stories     life is anecdotal and fifty percent deception     but that’s to be expected     how could we live with ourselves if it weren’t for our lies?

mister natural

never worked a day in my life        won’t sweat blood for the machine       blood is heavier than gold      but what do I know?      I’m just a bum balancing the scales       my advice to would be scholars      is to do what you like      but don’t let your imagination run away with you       don’t lose yourself in the herd       or let modest claims of individuality     camouflage your bovine curiosity    just plant a flag in the anecdotal and call it history       

but don’t listen to me        I’m a certified fool      I renounce history         all histories are phony       I have no history      I just tell convenient stories       this life was spent dreaming        yesterday’s cause is lost        let tomorrow care for tomorrow’s woes          I won’t cry today     I feel I’m halfway high    just from thinking about it      I’m pitching naturals from now on      these dice are loaded and the table is mine

beatified

 I don’t read the papers       I just follow the signs    I get all the information I need in stereo        messages from heaven      transmitted in high definition     directly into my cranium      my senses may be addled       but my heart is instrumental     in sorting out those waves      I needn’t be sober to garner their substance      the lyrics are set in time    to a long familiar refrain

they tell me god loves a drunk       because all drunks are poets      and all poets are killers      when it comes down to it     and it often does    we are all of us killers       but I don’t seem to mind      I’ll gladly take the blame      if there’s any going     my hereditary fault lines      my bipolar distemper       mete out eyeball for eyeball      and subtle truth for gain   

it ain’t rocket science      just simple dharmic law     the children of men are routinely tested       to live and love and lose again    that’s the sum of our existence        those are the rules of engagement      the nature of the game       that’s how the courageous love       as lions among lambs     in the pastures of eternity       in a story without end

modern babylonians

meanwhile…  …at your local shop ‘n’ save     the precepts of scientific management   churn out well adjusted slaves     they have chosen between conformity and freedom      they are willing to be managed     each has had their price      I’ve been damaged and discouraged       but I’m not crazy enough to join them       I dressed like them     talked like them    and even ate like them    but I could not think like them     I can’t be moulded to society’s requirements    I needed new horizons     and ever greater highs    so cut me some slack       coz crazy amounts of spoon    robbed me of my consumer status       and left me on my backside        you can sometimes buck the system     but not the dark forces      fear is the coinage of modern babylonians      fear is the quirt that keeps the herd in check