another revelation…

 the following message contains profane language and subversive rhetoric…

do crazy people worship insane gods?      where is the great psychiatrist in the sky?    I just realised I’m in the middle of a revolution    no-one knows what the fuck is going on       another weary year drags its sorry arse  through the exit     I’m tempted to follow it      but I don’t have the stones    the worst thing that happened to me last year     was myself      I have failed again     but perhaps I failed better

I want to play a dangerous game      I want to change    they say if change your mind     you change everything        I’m just the fiction my daddy copied from his daddy      surely I can improve on that shit storm     the moral of the story is clear     I’ve been    ordinary    and I am bored     I’ll staple that to my knackers    and let out a roar       concoct a story     that conceals my embarrassment    or confess      confess     according to my sins     and seek absolution      with blood wet on my hands  

we all do what we want to do     eventually     and we all get what we deserve    I was promised an invincible summer    burning somewhere in my heart     maybe I’ll sing it out until I feel better    I’ll know when my moment comes    I’ll just take the reigns     and make it mine     anyway      I’ll own the real world whenever I see it       I’ll tread with angels to speak the truth       and strike a pact with my idiot god     he understands my madness    because he’s mental too     he issued a manifesto     of troublesome delights    where says he’ll set the world on fire      if we don’t meet his demands

 

Golden Apples

channelling

exclusively

via satellitic intent

this monomaniac

is deeply fixated

on our nearest star

and that’s where

you’ll find him

from now on

lost in an orchard

dazzling bright

stealing golden apples

from the heart of the sun

.

Promethean

what kind of monster am I?
I’m the man fortune made me
only as good as circumstances allow
and only as bad as I have to be
this heat and light are stolen
they obscure a multitude of sins
it’s an old cliché tailored to fit
and worn with a swagger
because I’m stepping tall
when I roll out my thing
this candle burns exceedingly bright
is neither hidden under a bushel
or extinguished in the night
.

Icarus

How high is too high? How low is too low?

I’m stretched across impossible altitudes. I got the vertigo, that cold dizzying flush, but who cares when flying is suddenly so easy? I can see my life from here; it seems so small and lacking any real significance. What matters is now, this moment of flight, this instance of freedom. I’m reaching for forbidden constellations while my feet, caked in mud, are sinking into the earth. These unnatural avionics, they say, are the result of faulty wiring. Who needs drugs when you have aerial acuity and are filled with grandiose intentions?

Oh, this is cool – this is sweet. My trepidation gives way to exhilaration as my aerobatics become practised and concise. You never lose it, the power of flight, and having once flown you never forget the exaltation those wings of wax can bring. This apparatus has been well examined and its flaws are well documented, but I’ll milk this sensation for as long as I can. I’ll ride this fucker until I hit a cul de sac and slam once more into sodden ground. Crash landings are the price you pay for your time aloft; some reckon it’s worth the fee.

.