Power

Most people are lost

In power games

Of their own devising

Ensnared in the he said/she said

They endorse misery and conflict

For all of their lives

But it’s hard to hold your head high

When you’re swimming in shit

And that’s the greatest threat

To your personal freedom

Not that some unseen hand

Takes away your power through force

But that you give it away freely

As a matter of course

.

Wrapped

And you were there with me
In the clouds and the rain
What does that signify
In the landscape of dreams?
Is it one of those things
Only lovers would know?
.

Ripples

those stones
we so carelessly cast
birthed ripples
of unforeseen dimensions
now there’s a tsunami of shit
about to engulf you and I
and we shall reap more
than we ever sowed
in yet another dismal harvest
.
our practiced tongues
wove convenient fictions
from little grey lies
which we honed into truths
sharp as switch blades
I heard what you said
your words were ugly
I had words of my own in mind
but they escape me now
perhaps my conscience is cloudy
how about yours?
.

Sparky

dope him

rope him

tie him down

and smoke him

electrode his brainpan

with 20,000 megajolts

zap some sense into him

teach him to be well again

then take him downstairs

and chemically castrate him

with the great abomination

pump him with the ga ga juice

until he’s lost the will

kosh him ‘til his lights go out

.

Adored

My credentials were impeccable
At least on paper, if not in the flesh
Your papers were forged
But I didn’t mind
You brought me more pleasure
Than a thousand dead poets
“The only good poet is a dead poet.”
Isn’t that what you said?
Imposters pout and posture
Across the page
With borrowed icons
And stolen voices
Genius lays face down in the gutter
Death is the final measure
Of its dedication to the craft
But not for me darlin’
I want to be adored, at least once
However briefly
And in this life, not the next
.

Running Away

Had to bounce
Had no alternative
That place was my grave
The end of the road
You may think me a coward
Be that as it may
But I was running towards
Not running away
.

Owsley’s Bunker

I swapped the charismatic
For the lead - lined Kafkaesque
If I’m turning over a new leaf
I want my papers in order
Before heading south
Latest developments suggest
There may be trouble
At the border
But my disguise is perfect
I wear reason like a crown
And I’m so very high
I may never lay it down
.
This is coyote weather
The season of the cow
The days are drawing in
The nights grow more profound
Anything could happen here
And very often does
So I’m barricaded in
In case push comes to shove
They say a little orange juice
Will help to bring you down
But someone cut my strings
I no longer see the ground
.

Solus

she was in worse shape
than any woman I'd ever seen
she'd had the life ground out of her
until she signified nothing to no-one
one sorry night
just for the hee haw
we jacked her 
into the sing song
and we heard her howl
just like she was dying
we saw that crazy bitch
had ghosts in her bones
and that she was infected
with pain beyond reason

Radiance

the best part of me
is too often obscured
by the daily grind
of an ordinary life
only to be
rediscovered
in the unexpected hour
as a strange and familiar
radiance
beyond the reach
of the human eye
.

A Prayer

Our sponsors
Who are relentless
Anonymous are thy names
But thine kingdom come
Thine will be done
At home
As it is in commerce
Forgive us our debts
As we forgive those
Who foreclose against us
Give us this day our daily fix
Of sex and soap and politics
And lead us not into temptation
For temptations sake
But deliver us from sequels
For thou art the kingpins
With the power of transmission
Now and forever
Amen
.

A Farewell

I felt the weight of it in my chest
The heft of it on my heart
I dared not remember
Nor did I care to forget
The little death
You left in your wake
You were wrenched from my life
In the cruellest of ways
And I yearned for your laughter
As I drowned in your tears
And I mourned for your love
For a thousand years
.

Milk & Honey

3 am again
same old
same old
pavlovian routine
the incessant splatter
of bloody raindrops
on my window panes
the drip, drip, drip
of memories predisposed
to the anachronism
of my wicked, but splendid
fallacies
if they could only feel me now
what would they say?
they think I’m teflon
and that nothing sticks to me
the facade is faultless
but the interior corrupt
I’m faded and jaded
since those days
of infidelity and loss
my nights are fainter
and spent figuring
memorial alphabets
into novel expressions
that pierce my ears
to fill my head
with poisoned splinters
a little milk and honey
is all I’m asking
a little milk and honey
to nourish and sustain me
through the bitter hours
before the coming dawn
.