the killing floor

I’ve been straight and sober now     for nearly a thousand years     coz the game that started out as fun      ended in bloody tears      some drink to remember      some drink to forget      others drink as penance for the crimes that they commit      me, I drank in self defence     I was fighting in a war     though I never knew who the enemy was      or what I was fighting for    people at war with themselves     will find no peace in a bottle      no matter how much they drink      they can never win that battle   it brought me piece of mind     to leave that life behind      it was a fucking nightmare    that somehow I survived

heavy (death song #3)

 

when I was crushed by the world        others were crushed by me       you couldn’t call it fair       but I would come down heavy       on whoever was around me       wherever I happened to be    …when I was a monster    I had a tune in my head       I called it my death song      I couldn’t switch it off     it nearly drove me mad        but when I came down heavy      that song was all I had

Valor

 

She claimed to be a friend

I had no reason to doubt her

She said she knew where I lived      

and where my secrets were buried

She knew the best time to kick a man

is when he’s on the ground.

It seemed a friendly encounter

until she showed her hand.

She said, “You wear your illness like a badge.”

I replied, “No, you’re wrong, I wear it like a medal.”

She said, “You seem inordinately proud.”

I said, “Because I’ve won a thousand battles.”

She said, “Those battles were only in your mind…”

I replied, “Those are the battles that are hardest to fight.”

killer cosmonaut

 

I’m totally spaced out       blitzed out of existence     so catastrophically high      I cannot see the ground     they dropped the fucking bomb on me      and hit me where it hurts       hell flickered for a second        then the lights went out     now I’m locked out of the world      with nowhere else to go      my imminent re-entry      will have to be postponed      though I’m bitterly disappointed      I’ll still make it on my own        coz I’m the killer cosmonaut      I’m not afraid to be alone

Little White Lies

once I had two lovers
I know what you’re thinking
you’re either thinking lucky dog
or filthy rat
I think the latter is more accurate
I was definitely some form of rodent
nervous and fearful of discovery
scurrying through the dark
from house to house
and back again
.
both girls new about the other
but it was still an emotional minefield
so I used to lie to them
little white lies to smooth the way
little white lies to spare their feelings
I’d make up stories about my day
never mentioning one to the other
I’d tell stories about where I’d been
and what I’d done there
.
I had deceit down to a fine art
it got easier to lie as time went by
until it was second nature to me
that’s the thing about lies
they breed like rabbits
one lie begat another
until I was swimming in an ocean
of those little white lies
.
when I took all those lies
those little white lies
and put them all together
they made up one big black lie
my whole life had become a lie
it was hard to keep up with them
and they were discovered
one by one
in the end I lost both girls
because I was such a liar
and liars seldom prosper
.

Ageing

Old man, his hands look dead. His neck is creased like a scrotum. His eyes are milky blue. He looks right into me for a second and something flickers and disappears. He’s moved on – moved within to some ancient memory that seems more real than I. Age draws the mind inward until we live on memories. The world at large loses its allure. The world gave up on the old man long before he deserted the world.

Will I grow old I wonder, real old I mean? Will I live long enough to grow raven’s claws and a purple veiny beak? I can just about imagine losing my marbles and retreating into my yesterdays. Becoming some drooling old fart sitting in my own shit. I’m terrified of that. Not having my faculties, not even knowing what kind of hell I’m living in.

Maybe I’ll get lucky and die before that ever happens. Maybe I’ll get luckier still and live to a ripe old age with my mind intact. Either way, I don’t relish the prospect of aging, but there is little I can do to negate the process – short of suicide and that is an even bleaker prospect.

.

Mortality

 

“Life is for the living.
Death is for the dead.
Let life be like music.
And death a note unsaid.”
― Langston Hughes

 

They say cats actually purr as death takes them. That seems a healthy attitude to have. Me, I get apprehensive just thinking about my own mortality. I can’t imagine non existence any more than I can imagine some noncorporeal existence, or reincarnation. I can’t even imagine my final moments, but I’m sure I won’t be purring.

.

1973

Meat and two veg
The order of the day
Egg and chips
Those trusty standbys
Powers cuts and strikes
Lock outs and riots
Calor gas evenings
Radio by candle light
The white heat of technology
The Tiber foaming red
Unfulfilled prophesies
Littered the dirty streets
Those were the days
Of sedentary bombs
In secret locations
Policemen & revolutionaries
Armies of occupation
The other Battle of Britain
Was waged in the dark
.

Can you see me now?

I could feel your eyes on me
Your cold, dead eyes on me
I could feel the spittle
From between
Your clenched teeth
Spray against my cheek
I could hear your words of hate
Feel your fists slam into me
All I want to know is
Can you see me now?
Can you see me
Set the stars alight?
I’m beyond your reach
But I always was
Can you see me now?
Did you ever see me?
.