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Showing posts with label Dark Jewels. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dark Jewels. Show all posts

10 February 2024

cities on fire

cities on fire 

in the republic of sorrows      

cities on fire   

in the land of the free

cities on fire  

where the dark horse rises      

cities on fire

far as the eye can see

we’re talking London and Chicago

we’re talking Memphis Tennessee

I got gasoline in the car

take a ride with me

cities on fire

across the planet

cities on fire

it’s our destiny

 

27 December 2023

Bethlehem

 there’s a poem lodged in my throat     I don’t remember the words       or where it all began     they say  god speaks through signs       that only prophets understand      where  the sky blankets the earth      in misty  morning dew       a child in golden chains      the sacrificial lamb      lost in winter storms      hostage to conflict       and there’s no star now over Bethlehem       just a testament to unending war

 

26 February 2020

Spiders

manky bastards     plied clever words     and ugly rumours     they were rather nifty     with the dishing of dirt     and spreading of filth     they told me things     that made me choke    

I had to cultivate      a little distance     from the unclean     they had worms     for tongues     and they traded     chinese whispers     for dubious reward    

there’s a kernel of truth     at the heart of every lie     but there’s no sense     hidden in confusion     and those who love      to spread bad news     one day reap the chaos       they themselves have sown

28 November 2019

Egg N Chips











we had egg and chips

and we were grateful

the children in Africa

had nothing at all


we dragged the low end

because we were brassic

when your stomach is empty

it’s hard to stand tall


the times sure were tough

but the people were tougher

when troubles are shared

they can suddenly seem small


17 January 2019

Blood Rite

















I’m all jelly bone
and knee tremble
my brothel creepers
and crepe soul
slick with anticipation

tomorrow
is another
creosote sundae
but tonight
is a total eclipse
of reason

I bide my time
spilling my oats
on barren ground
to be washed away
in the menstrual cycle

my instruments
calculate trouble
word gets around
there are no secrets
in monkey town


9 January 2019

Loner

Loner_02

she had those absinthe eyes

set in a fragile waifish dial

she possessed a laddish wit

that always made me smile

we were never really lovers

but we fucked once in a while

.

no, we were drinking buddies

and were seldom sober

but we were never truly close

because at heart she was a loner

and I wonder what became of her

when our escapades were over

.

4 January 2019

Menagerie

menagarie-ticket

there was no miscalculating

it was the season of ill will

those fractious lovebirds

were broadcasting citywide

they were at the ding dong

with the usual diatribe

concerning love and validation

guerrilla tactics were involved

I had to shield my mind

from their carnal dredgings

and squirmed with embarrassment

when they mentioned my name

.

5 March 2018

Ghosts In The Blood

Shadows

you got ghosts in your blood   you best get you some stony   I got the fear on  roll me one too    I’m bound to get lucky   I’m prepared to die trying   you can fetch me solace   from another man’s gutter   because I’m headed home   where there will be a welcome   or a maybe just a lynching   they might have forgotten   I hope they’ve forgiven   what’s done is done   and I paid my dues 

I don’t believe in resurrections    or in tearful reconciliations    the past is gone forever    ghosts take shape in its shade    and my head is haunted    with that fearful geometry    and the friends undone    by time and tide   you take your best shot   and maybe another   you might win some    but you’ll likely lose more   no-one passes this way     unless they pay the toll

23 August 2017

Your Favourite Lover

Bed
Three’s crowd darlin’
Did no one tell you that?
Three caused more murders
Than greed ever done
And baby that’s a fact
There’s a man odour in here
Like the smell of dying dogs
You better burn those sheets
Cause they’ve been spoiled for me
There’s only room for one man here
So who’s it going to be?
.
When I first met you baby
Five or six years ago
You didn’t have a clue
But my how you have grown
Have you gone all femme fatale?
Is this a game you’ve been playing?
Well the fun and games end now
Don’t waste your time explaining
You better make your mind up
Or I’ll have to set you free
Who’s your favourite lover
Is it him or is it me?
.

24 June 2017

Before The Lights Went Out

lights-out
was that real enough for you?
I can still taste the blood
is there anything better than that?
I should fuckin’ well hope so
so you think you’ve had enough?
who was that cat on the cross?
I make a point of never knowing
that cunt had some moves
he was immaculate, so he was
I’m glad I got to see him
before the lights went out
.

1 May 2015

Painless

revolver

I never do house calls, but this radge was overdue and I was losing patience. He was all meek and mild till the talk turned to readies owing – then he turned bubblegum warrior. Scumbag tore me down, wrapped a rag around my face and blitzed me with a dirty one. Man I was sick. He then proceeded to dip my pockets; relieving me of my stash and less credible credentials. That was a boot to the nads – and me with no bullets in my gun.

Here was the neighbourhood leech rattling my cage and I felt the filth rising, but there was no point taking unkindly to him – he was doing all he could to alleviate the surplus in my pockets and bring comfort to my bleary head. The gear was no good, and the sentiments attached were bogus, but they nearly did for me. I was a cathedral full of blind mice tuned to panic stations – they sang the siren song of closet tweakers; quietly, tunelessly.

My knackers were withered, but my thinking was still deep enough to cover my space. So I fixed laughing boy with my good eye and asked, “Why do they call you Painless?” He just laughed and flourished his kit before commencing with the washing up; there was trouble brewing in his pipe, but I had my school craft down – this old dog knew a few tricks. It was well past noon before I peeled myself from his rock star wife to emerge victorious by the narrowest of margins – where I often do my best work.
.

18 July 2013

Yahweh

god_blk
a long time ago
the great god Yahweh
unleashed on the Earth
war, plague, famine, and death
in generalised semantics
those parasitic beings
called homo sapiens
bearing fatal messages
of peace, love and harmony
while they butchered
with glorious indifference
and espoused primal laws
the survival of the fittest
to justify their ignorance
pleased to meet you
you and me shoot good
we be friends
eat my gun
the end

.

13 July 2013

Doomsday Device

Bellsdyke
His name was Robert and he had a twin brother Richard who, he explained, was on another ward because they could read each other’s minds.

“Together we are too formidable for the nurses to tackle.”

He was a tall, slender, carrot top of about twenty eight years. When he spoke his hands fluttered in his lap like birds trapped in a cage.

“My father was a minister in The Church Of Scotland. He resented our gift. There was a massive power struggle and he locked us in a time capsule for the sake of science.”
He looked around furtively.

“We don’t belong here, but they had the idea we were building a doomsday device, so they locked us in here. No vision you see. No vision.”

He stalked off with a loping gait when he saw one of the nurses coming into the ward. He had some complaint or other; he had many quite fanciful complaints.

The wards were named after Scottish islands; we were on Islay and Robert’s brother Richard was on the neighbouring island of Jura. It seemed appropriate to me that the wards were named for islands, because each of them seemed just like a little island separated from the mainland of everyday life. The building that housed these islands was a vast rambling Gothic Victorian asylum, a bedlam as they were once called. Locally its name, Bellsdyke, was synonymous with lunacy.

I was placed there as a voluntary patient under the understanding that if I had not volunteered I would have been ‘sectioned’ under the mental health act as a danger to myself or others. It was a Hobson’s choice - volunteer or we will make you. I would be detained there under observation for thirty days until it was determined what would be done with me. I had come to hospital a fractured personality with certain delusions and suicidal tendencies. I was a manic depressive, but did not know this at the time.

During the first few days I kept myself to myself. I felt I did not belong there anymore than Robert felt that he belonged there. I was deeply depressed and withdrawn. The nurses tried to coax me into interaction with my fellow inmates, but I would not be drawn. Gradually though I began to acclimatise to my surrounding, at least during the daylight hours. At night I found the hospital a weird and frightening place. All night I could hear people sobbing or crying out in distress. I could hear doors slam and footfalls echoing down long empty corridors. The boy in the bed next to me would not stop crying, I didn’t blame him I wanted to cry myself.

It was several days before I encountered Richard. He was identical to Robert in every way, except that he wore a three piece tweed suit. He was standing in the recreation room of Islay ward watching a joiner replace the sashes in one of the old wooden windows. He turned and walked to the rec room table, which was festooned with books and pamphlets and picked up a notepad. He approached the joiner and flicking through the pad informed him that he had the wrong window.
“It’s this window that needs fixed.”

The joiner nodded and dutifully undid his work and proceeded to the next window. He was nearly finished when the sister arrived and informed him that he had replaced the sashes in the wrong window.

“But the doctor”, he said, indicating Richard, “told me it was this window.”

The sister smiled forbearingly,

“He is a patient.”

Richard quickly about faced and skulked off like a guilty schoolboy.

That night, after his parents had left, the boy in the bed next to me was distraught and he sobbed for hours. I despaired of ever getting to sleep, but the nurses gave him a shot and he was soon out cold. I woke up in the early hours with the lights flashing on and off. Robert was at the light switch.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I asked groggily.

“Morse code,” replied Robert.

“Why?” I asked.
He just gave me an indulgent smile, stupid question.

“Who are you signalling?”

“That’s a secret.”
“Please stop it,” I implored, “I’m trying to sleep.”

Just then we heard footsteps approach the door and Robert jumped into his bed. “What’s going on?” enquired the nurse.
“He won’t stop talking,” said Robert pointing an accusing finger in my direction, but averting his gaze.

“Get to sleep Robert,” said the nurse and closed the door.

Robert had an aversion to television. Most of the other patients were avid viewers during the hours of seven till ten when we were allowed to watch. He believed television would steal your thoughts. However, he did not leave the television room while it was on. He paced about behind our chairs making cryptic comments while averting his eyes. One evening he became particularly animated while we were watching Top of the Pops.

“It’s propaganda!” he exclaimed. “Turn it off,”
he made a grab for the switch, but was intercepted.

“It’ll melt your brain!” he insisted.

Then after many attempts to distract us he said in a sly voice, “I’ll detonate the device.”

We ignored him. He began a countdown “10, 9, 8...” When he reached zero he slammed his hand into the fire alarm and all hell broke loose. There were bells ringing everywhere. The nurses arrived from their station to see what was going on and to evacuate us from the building.

“It was just Robert,” we protested, but regulations are regulations.

The whole hospital was evacuated and we all, many of us in pyjamas, stood outside in the snow while we were counted and the fire brigade did a search of the building. I was standing next to Robert and he turned to me and said, “BOOM”.

The next time I saw him he was being dragged away by two orderlies screaming for help.

“John! John! Help me!”

It was two days before he arrived back on the ward. He was a shambling shadow of his former self. The ‘chemical cosh’ the other patients called it; a drug called largactil, a common treatment for schizophrenia. I seemed like a punishment to me, punishment for unleashing the doomsday device.
.

11 July 2013

Vicious Monkeys

Skins

vicious monkeys

getting frisky

all elbows and tongues

shaven heads

and swastika smiles

wrong man

wrong place

the power of the knife

twists in the stomach

men must fight

cowards must flee

with the pulse

beating in my throat

blood pool coiling in my gut

I fled

never looked back

whoops of laughter

still ringing in my ears

.

7 March 2013

The day I died

King
when I called out
you couldn’t hear
I turned to talk
but you weren’t there
you left the works
but took the gear
.
how I wept
how I cried
I sent for a priest
but none arrived
things were rough
the day I died
.

15 July 2012

Shotgun Messenger

Shotgun-Messenger

You placed your bets
On a stranger's smile
But where did you go
When the lights went out?
You played the game
The best you could
But all you gained - you lost

You thought you could make it
All on your own
You thought you were a winner
But all that makes up our lives
All that’s wrong and right
Is but a fleeting memory
Ours to hold, but not too tight

10 July 2012

Bindlestiffs

Bindle_Stiff_03

dummy up and listen good
while I pour moonshine in your ears
we got no homes to go to
and no-one waiting there
the world is big
but not big enough
for us to fit in
we’re the bad apples
who spoiled the whole barrel
fitted up on charges of vagrancy
for wearing out our shoes
we were kings of the highways
with no roof to tie us down
no man could boss us around
now we live with doors unhinged
and when the smoke has cleared
all we have is empty pockets
but once we’re back on the road
we’ll be livin’ high on the hog
low down on the greasy pole
.

26 June 2012

Bloody Imposter

Blood-Syringe
They never sicken of taking my blood
They must have gallons by now
Enough to reconstruct the man
To make a blood monster
To take my place
To kiss my wife with his bloody lips
To sleep beside her in my bloody bed
Perhaps I am that bloody man
How would I ever know?
Maybe I’m the bloody doppelganger
What if the real me is locked away
In some asylum somewhere
And I’m his crazy counterpart
The bloody imposter in his life
.

11 June 2012

Mirror, Mirror

Mirror,-Mirror

There are certain kinds of dust monkey who'll eat your fucking face off and vampires who’ll suck up your will to live. When I look in the mirror I see your face which could be the cause of deep self loathing. After all I wear the devil’s face, but I don’t care no more. I learned to live with that and any number of bad trips you laid on me.

So I’m the Antichrist and the bad Buddha. I abide in the knowledge that no man can touch my piece of mind. So I’ll be laughing my socks off come your judgment day.
.

14 May 2012

Pig God

Pig-God

the secrets hidden in your head
the occult pleasures of your heart
the treasures you have plundered
then passed off as your own
mark you out as a singular failure
the simulation of a man

in the solitude of your prison cell
you pray to your pig god
that no-one sees your true face
or the bloody hands
that betray those guilty secrets
and your empty aspirations
.