Mislaid

it’s a tedious chore

and no mistake

around the houses

and home again

the whole rigmarole

a wasted journey

a tortuous trek

in an inclement season

but I’ll find myself

on some darkened side street

soaked to the skin

but no worse for wear

.

Excision

I severed that tie

with definitive force

I cut it off

and cast it out

then I set it on fire

powdered the ashes

and buried it deep

far far away

but it haunts me still

the flesh of my flesh

that lost appendage

cleaved from the bone

a bloody sacrifice

to some lesser evil

it’s a revenant organ

or a phantom limb

it’s a forbidden exhumation

and an itch I long to scratch

.

Heavies

it was my party

and I was having

a right hee haw

when the heavies

came crashing in

it can happen that sudden

like the flick of a switch

or an amphetamine surge

with the rock steady dread

and the big bass drum

big boys took my high

and buried me

with knuckle dusters

they came mob handed

tooled up for a killing

it was totally hopeless

but my delusion

was so fantastic

I still fancied my chances

.

Chocolate George

Chocolate George

Was a pussy magnet

He’d had more tang

Than Frank Sinatra

He said it was nice, so nice

And it all came from a nice place

That it was no mere gesture

But the gift of awareness

That the algorithms of affection

Played out naturally

With no need for ceremony

Or archaic ritual

Were as beautiful

As they were natural

He stressed that

He was not the message

But the messenger

And there was no device

Or calculation

Behind his success

.

Empty

I need a whole new bundle

to keep me on my feet

I’m winding ancient nightmares

between my dirty sheets

I got nothing left to bargain with

I’m on my fucking knees

all native electricity

has deserted me

I purchased naught for nothing

I’d like a refund please

these are times of want

in the chaos factory

.

Snowball

snowball had the loathing something chronic       she’d smashed all her mirrors in iconoclast  and said she’d pan my windows too if I didn’t lick her wounds        self inflicted wounds are often the last to heal       least said      soonest mended they used to say       but they were wrong

she had come on like a breath of sunshine        but she had dark roots      I’d been keeping a beady on her peroxide explosion       altruistically fucking her from time to time          it cut both ways      we both had needs

I was pretty liberal with the advice     but more frugal with my affections        I like to think of myself as a coward       that’s the best spin I can place on my actions       I couldn’t dive in       because I can’t swim        so  I turned  away      at the crucial moment I closed my eyes        but I still heard her cry  

I guess for her I was yet another disappointment in a long series of disappointments          was I a user?     an abuser?     or just a man of straw?     I’m not the best judge of that      for my part      her voice is one of many       all asking the same question    do you now   or did you ever   possess an ounce of soul?

 

 

Formless

He’d once been a pariah, an untouchable. He had a definite shape, but it was asymmetrical. He was composed of acute and awkward angles, ragged contours and sharp edges. Cutting edges. He had always felt at odds with nature, a square peg in a universe of round holes.

He felt powerless in his predicament. There was no panacea, no prescription, no discipline, or philosophy to ease his discomfort. There was not even a name for what ailed him, no diagnosis for his wayward geometry.

His was the difficult path and he stumbled often, and sometimes he fell. But over the years his angles were chipped away and his edges were made smooth through collision and erosion. So that one day he awakened to discover that he was practically formless.

.

The Temple of a Thousand Buddhas

On the first day of summer,
In the Temple of a Thousand Buddhas,
You turned and said to me;
“Your smile is a blessing to my heart”
That was long ago, but I’m smiling still.

.

Coydogs

Do you see those ferals over there? They are my murder squad and that’s my blood on their sandals. They must have gotten my number from some old directory, because I’m unlisted now.

They came to chasten me for some mythic infraction in the by gone, but it’s never too late to deliver bad news. Apparently I had robbed some whore to feed some bitch. I can’t recall the details; they were pretty inchoate with their charges.

I was all negotiable, but they were not. We reached an accommodation where I shut the fuck up in exchange for a kicking. However, I take succour from the knowledge that they will one day turn on the hand that now feeds them.

.

Panthers

the sickly hours draw near       I’ve been out on the prowl     feasting with panthers      and laying with the low        life bleeds out from my promiscuous regions     my seed, the gift of our benefactor      was spilled on vulgar ground      a menagerie of brightly polished fossils     perched four and twenty deep on a blackened bow      each was perfectly honed       to provide the keen edges a boy could shred his soul on

 

there’s a laboratory in my mind       where pornographic experimentations are crudely coupled with shameful memories     so I make meat in wee small hours to feed the fire that burns in my loins     ever the same incessant pounding of a thousand heartbeats      a tide of lovers float into memory      people like us know what we’re doing       people like us have rapacious hearts

Puppets

I may exaggerate
from time to time
stretch the truth a little
for the sake of the narrative
but there’s no soup here
and no side story
what you see
you might not get
just ask Yo Yo and Psycho Sue
everybody knows my name
even if they can’t place the face
you dummied up nice
but you don’t listen so good
I don’t hold any papers
and I never did
back in the once upon a time
I gave the world a little distance
just enough space to think straight
I have demons to contend with
but I can stand their scrutiny
if they can stand mine
everyone is tyrannised by something
fear is the prime motivator
name that fear
and you name the man
.

Modern Romance

no-one gets their jollies on the night shift

unless they’re sniffing boot polish

or drinking the windolene

there’s a lot of it about

some like to spank monkeys

while others drag the low end

trawling for the mantovani

but it’s sometimes hard to tell

cats from dogs in the virtual

and often a suspect package

is mistaken for exotic booty

in some sort of synthetic romance

only the lonely care to understand

.