The Prodigal Son

you should never have returned

there is nothing for you here

this is a land of ghosts

where people come

to bury their dreams

under layers of denial

and silent despair

.

Biblioclast

I was in the building

when the auditors arrived

year zero

lights out

advanced decay

the news was grim

no-one survived

all reader enquiries

were stuffed into body bags

and buried in the basement

with the unclassified documents

I swabbed the whole apparatus

with anti-static juice

but the questions

just kept rolling in

they were arriving

on the October timetable

though this was early June

I tried to make up the distance

before my arrest

closed me down

then they decided

that to save the library

they had to burn all the books

it smelled of hopelessness

and it smelled of betrayal

it smelled of Auschwitz

and it smelled of fear

.

Animus

there may have been

some reason

for my wild elation

I think I had forgotten

to take my medication

I simply don’t remember

I try not to forget

but if there’s method

to my mania

I haven’t found it yet

and I was high

so very high

on the night we met

you made it easy for me

to cross the killing floor

you told me with some certainty

that we had met before

we coupled in a frenzy

we had a physical rapport

and shared the kind of passion

that left me wanting more

but your words were less than kind

and cut me to the core

you said you’d had enough of me

and showed me to the door

.

Sauce

poor boy is on the sauce again

but he shall fear no evil

coz he’s the coolest pilgrim

who ever took this ride

he rarely does the verbal shit

but when he sometimes does

it floats as sweet and delicate

as manna from above

he never has a point to make

and nothing to defend

poor boy doesn’t give a shit

he’s everybody’s friend

.

World On Fire

we set the fire

and shall harvest the ashes

out in the yard

they are flogging dead horses

swearing death oaths

and burying hope

they bury it deep

and stamp the dirt down

there’s scant hope of resurrection

into a world of carbon

further down the road

where the sun don’t shine no more

the names of our children

are scratched on stones

and the ghost machines are grinding out

obituaries no one shall ever read

.

Shoved

in the bitter end

she simply shot on through

with the benefit of hindsight

it was the obvious move

her life was a burning building

she had nowhere left to turn

the papers said she jumped

but I say she was shoved

.

The Great Worm

I’ve been cutting about
with the sharpest metaphoricals
and audaciously deployed similes
which drip from my tongue
as cool as porcelain
and clear as glass
I’m unfettered by traditional gravity
some think I’ve caught religion
but that’s the death of imagination
and the refuge of villains and fools
I shall not be seeking absolution
the great worm does not absolve
it renders men to meat
and then picks their bones clean
regardless of their beliefs
I’m already consigned to the power
that wields the bloody fangs
that tear the life from flesh
but until that final butchery
I’ll live as a free man
standing on my own two feet
and not a fucking slave
on my bended knees
.

Islands

I was never sectioned. I went in voluntarily. Still, getting in was easier than getting out again. I had to play a game of incremental improvement - softly, softly catchee monkey. I spent a month in that shithole, pretending to get well. I never felt so isolated in my life. The wards of that crumbling old hospital were named after Scottish islands. That seemed appropriate, because the people in there were islands too.

Moonbeams

did you hear the moonbeams sing?

it was a low, soft, shimmering song

the silver filaments of night

coated the earth in honeydew

and the moon sighed

as she revealed

the secret feast nocturnal

and you and I 

replete in our birthday suits

shivered in the cool air

cascading droplets

from our midnight swim

and the unspoken promises

of all the lovers

in all the world

never touched our lips

Incremental

the coroner     ruled it misadventure      an accidental overdose     of pills and booze     but I knew better     this was the final act     of an incremental suicide       he’d been reaching for oblivion     for most of his adult life      too much was never enough     to feed the tyrant       that reigned as sovereign      over some secret portion     of a heavy heart     but who could name that beast       or explain its design       for here was a lonely man      who was never alone     who was well loved         and loved well in return

Over Easy

Tea Bag and Leaky Dave

made lunatic enquiries

from the edge

of the frying pan

and you can get singed

at the edge

of the frying pan

but what do poor boys do

when their alternatives

have shrunk?

some said it was a compact

others said that

they were drunk

and everybody wondered

were they pushed

until they jumped?

Crumbs

these here

are just crumbs

I keep the cookies stashed

back at the gallows tree

I sneaked a peek

in your pyjama case

I see that you’re a stayer

but I’m about to leave

my bus is late

that’s not news

I forked out for a ticket

that may not be of use

I’ve grown used to delays

this entire route

is littered with no returns

stranded in transit stops

I’ve seen all I’ve seen

an eternity on the omni

takes a moment to discover

but a lifetime to express