V2 (carnage edition)

 

in appropriate order    the processional disconnect     mixed horses in midstream     an incessant pouring of cats and dogs     a menagerie of cold calls and strange encounters     to tell the truth     I’m having a V2 moment      earth shattering in its hellish brilliance     the cause of my ceilings cracked

I was cold-cocked      and lynched     by mercenary hyenas      then left to decompose in my own slime      my rotting bones ached with the stench of old ghosts    my cup overflowed with the heartache that burns     I was drowning in yet another tsunami of shit     I was stretched beyond breaking     with no place to lay my head      this was my Golgotha      my funeral pyre       I stand now in the ashes      bewildered and deathly tired     my friend Ross said it best when he told me he’d been carpet bombed       but had somehow survived

 

don’t remember me      not this way     put fresh flowers on my grave      pour ointment on my stone    smooth my sleep     and stamp my dirt down     you won’t meet me in heaven     my subscription has expired     I won’t be reaching for eternity     I’m imprisoned in this fleshy tomb        by my primitive vision of corporeal bliss        there will be no resurrection       I believe I’ve had enough of this

 

hear my voice

The Calculus Of Rage

hear my voice

 

it’s me

I did it again

I made a cunt of myself

for no real reason

that spike through my heart

the faulty adrenal gland

sent acidic transmissions

through my mind and body

I could tear my skin off, fuck!

 

I spiraled on terrible trajectories

like that moth in the bathroom

on its fatal final flight

an elongated spasm racked

and viciously surged

with a reckless head load of poison

acrid in my mouth

 

my words have cancer

cutting words, killing words

no balance attenuated

or room for reason

all passive strategy

lies in wait for the unwary

then pounces ferocious

into the maelstrom

fuck you!

fuck you

and fuck you too

 

I’ll smash your face in

eat your entrails for breakfast

tear the stars from their sockets

and grind them to dust

don’t come in

I did something nasty

I damaged my being

with psychotic clubs

 

treatment is symptomatic

there is no cure

no wonder drug

no universal panacea

just elemental narcotics

to ease the pain

of twisted nerves

in a deviant body

a sickened soul

in a broken man

who conjured up this

slouching abomination?

my furrowed brow

and unnatural posture

speak of untold burdens

 

so feed me, free me

turn me loose

put a bullet in my brain pan

and bid me farewell

 

somebody call the cops

the suicide squad

oh man

I think I’ve lost the plot

 

I’m negotiating with forces

that are only ever found

beyond the pleasure principle

in the bloodiest recesses

of the human heart

 

I’ve arranged my killing stones

where they come easily to hand

my eyes are filled with blood

and where I once saw beauty

I now see meat and murder

 

like every loser I ever met

I have embraced the beast

and follow its commands

 

I won’t fake out here

I often pled innocence

due to diminished responsibility

 

but the servants of the beast

are purely instrumental

in their brutal applications

 

and the calculus of rage

is relentless and unforgiving

.

 

The Well Of Despair

The pursuit of pleasure led you here. You wanted the cool solution to your inner pain. You sought the ultimate high to fry your beans in; closer to death than you are meant to be.

Touch the cloth and kiss the ring. Do you love your man? Show me your money. Are you ready for that act of faith? Are you abased before your personal messiah?

This stuff is poison. They cut it with strychnine and weevil husks. The trick is to cook it well in lemon juice. Neutralise it so it don’t burn your brain. The last thing you want is a dirty hit sickening your veins. You just seek a little ease and a glimpse of immortality.

Just a spoonful of medicine helps ease the shit going down. A little inner fire will stifle the gag reflex before it chokes your mind. You’ve been self administering for so long now that you’ve forgotten what ails you. This cure will kill you, but there are worse ways to go. You say you feel no pain – I hope that’s true. I mean no harm to lepers like you. So come back soon. I know you will. The path of least resistance leads to the well of despair.

Insomniac

 

There are voices black with laughter harsh as crows barking. They call me by name while I cringe in an unholy place to await their passing. I will not face them in the dark of night, nor confront them in the light of day. I fear their taunts and rebukes. Their arrows are unerring and practiced. I will not struggle against them, for they are my children. They are the offspring of my failings.

When the evening tide wanes in vile bilious waves; I settle behind curtains drawn to pray to my hollow god that something/anything will happen to relieve the isolation of my republic of pain. All I seek is some other channel where my ghosts can rest in peace and I can get some sleep.

Cinnamon

Listen to Cinnamon here

https://open.spotify.com/track/23n1N1lAOcVA1jmojjg5om

she took a piece

delicious little tart

I spun her some yarn

on the off chance

she still harboured

any romantic illusions

 

I dished out

some tired old boiler plate

straight from the top shelf

an awkward confection

of fractured truths

and outright posture

I could sell snow

to the Eskimos

 

I know my face

is my best device

so I still throw it in

though it’s seen better days

I don’t rehearse

I do it alfresco

but it all joins up

in the ancient ritual

and no-one gets hurt

there’s no crime committed

 

she said somebody

stole her cinnamon

but that someone wasn’t me

by the time I got to her

she was shelling it gratis

to every punk drifter

who cast a glad eye

 

I thought it was a good thing

but I didn’t realise

she had ghosts in her blood

and absinthe in her eyes

we were never really lovers

but we fucked once in a while

 

I was aware of her derelict status

and her approximate  cliché

 she’d cut a raw deal from life

she dreamed of adulation

but settled for acceptance

 

it was always quid pro quo with her

she always returned affection

because she felt obliged

I told her she was easy

but she did not reply

 

she was wearing thin by this stage

she still had last year’s flavour

no-one remembers her number

she was a day away from stony

and another from the street

so I let her crash at my place

Buddha’s Clothes

you caught me

picking Buddha’s pockets

wearing Buddha’s clothing

and eating Buddha’s lunch

 

you heard me

speaking Buddha’s words

in the Buddha’s voice

and claiming Buddha’s mind

 

but you know

you needn’t look around

or ask who Buddha is

I’m stashing Buddha’s loot

and pleading innocence again

 

Casanova

I’ve seen your data

you need sunshine

so come over here

to share in the light

and we’ll roll together

our limbs entwined

I have total control

over fleshy geometry

I can read the signs

that others can’t find

and I know the secrets

you keep confined

I’ll hold you tight

but love you looser

we’ll bump

slip and grind

into the future

and take our place

with those of our kind

I’ll be your pupil

you’ll be my tutor

tongues might wag

but we won’t mind

for true love is deaf

and lovers are blind

Temporarily Buddha

 

man

I was stitched up

like a fucking kipper

they were in cahoots

my erstwhile friends

spiked me with a ton

of LSD in my fucking tea

a malicious prank perhaps

or an assassination attempt

on my fucking psyche

what could I do?

you can’t fight these things

so I went all Alan Watts

totally transcendental

 

I was mousetrapped

and locked within my closet

my eyes were sewn wide shut

by myriad instructors

I fell from the gravy train

and lost all my luggage

my scribbled entries

were smudged by tears

and washed away in traffic

I was tippexed out

I had mislaid my name

and had to start again 

temporarily Buddha 

left out in the rain