my bones ache
I’m infected
with ghosts
the kind that grind
a man to dust
this confinement
withers me
desiccated notes
and ancient rituals
crowd my nights
with recollection
I shield my eyes
from the righteous
dread vibrations
of straw witnesses
and trial by radiation
the committee gave me
the full inquisition
but my numbers were good
so I got a pat on the back
and sent on my way
they couldn’t tell
I’d cooked the books
to an old family recipe
where the left hand don’t know
who the right hand is screwing
I’m not dishonest
I’m just being realistic
everybody does it
and only a fool would starve
when there’s gravy to be had
I’m not a greedy man
I don’t take enough
to get myself noticed
I simply skim the cream
on its way to the top
the light from distant suns
shines on when they are gone
but when our day is done
will our lights shine on?
shall the lights of men
ever be seen again?
or will others of our kind
say that we were blind?
steal me a blanket
and let me lay down
there’s no grace in heaven
none that I’ve found
twelve strange disciples
from holier ground
sold me some garbage
and an antique crown
I’m lord of this shithole
and king of the clowns
thought is the most courageous crime
but you must go beyond the static of the tribe
and their blandishments of mediocrity
you best conduct your business in ciphers
or they will know you ain’t from round here
because they don’t take to outsiders
they ain’t intimidated by reason
and they’re offended by science
they have a wizard to guide them
all facts are false and reality is negotiable
in his machiavellian flea circus
he says jump and they ask how high?
they do as they’re told
but they don’t know why
.
I’m awake
I get your algebraic
you talk in tongues
a greasy word salad
of butchered truths
and fantastic remedies
that signify your filth
and lack of imagination
just another outrigger
of the one big lie
you are totally artificial
and your computations
always add up to zero
we were all witnesses
to your empty promise
that we’d stand together
when game got rough
but where were you
when we were singing
our death songs?
the origins of chaos
lay far beyond the stars
and issue wicked messengers
who ride on trojan horses
as minions of the beast
to visit hell upon us
and render us as meat
these forces of entropy
amplify our fears
and wash our orphan faces
with soft and bitter tears
daily bulletins
solemn in tone
spoon fed the public
in their private cells
they spoke of unity
and pulling together
they were organising
punishment squads
for the less enthusiastic
that’s how it begins
with a consensus
forged in fear
in a crueller world
we indulge in the
animal satisfaction
of stolen meat
and take succour
in bitter news
from next door
I’m getting shady looks
from the boys in blue
they know a viral load
when they see one
I always kept to myself
I guess I deviated
from the herd immune
I’m a marked man
at risk and alone
the seekers informed me
that everything that is
emanates from a single source
but they had no plan
no method
or application
to take them there
they told me faith
was their single solution
and that faith was magical
they pointed to their books
saying all truth resided there
and that belief was enough
to vouchsafe a ticket
for the kingdom to come
but I am of this world
not of the next
and my connections
are all paid for
through direct experience
are we just bunkered up
beside our television sets
quarantined in our tombs?
are we but maggot food
served on viral platters?
we don’t have to go anywhere
this microbial apocalypse
will be delivered to ours doors
just like Moses did of old
I hear no wailing in the night
the streets are oppressed
in quiet apprehension
as the world settles into sleep
to dream perhaps eternally
not everyone shall see morning
some shall be taken in the night
and we shall mourn them
in the grey and silent dawn
we put all our eggs
in a single basket
and cast our lot
with the viral load
but there’s nowhere
to run in the great pandemic
nothing to do but hunker low
some say we’re judged by God
or that nature has rejected us
we sift for patterns
in the random chaos
and set to sea in thin rafts
woven together by promises
launched onto turbulent waters
more in hope than expectation
poor boy’s all fucked up
he has a runny nose
he got hit in the face
with a horseshoe bat
but went undiagnosed
they called for isolation
but he was last to know
he only picks up static
on his clockwork radio
the devil stole his breath
but no one gave a shit
until they’d tasted death
and everyone was sick
