blackout

 I got my shit together       just in case      my shit is required        but why should it be?      coz the hour grows late        and I grow tired      I’m a surplus being      no strings attached       all I recall      is the rudimentary      no cause for concern     we suspected this much        all along       it starts with a whimper          ends with a bang        you go on ahead         I’ll set my alarm         and wait for the blackout        and my moment of calm

vesuvius

 I aint so good       at hiding my feelings       I sparkle and crackle          there’s a fissure in my mantle         I got blood in my eyes       poison on my tongue         I’m ready to pounce      on the unwary enemies       of my fragile peace         I medicate       I meditate     but to no avail       I laugh     I cry      I rant and rave       I try to keep things sunny side up        but nearly always fail

saint nick

 he knows my name        has that much hold over me         my over friendly beggar         my demon in rags       but when the bottle’s passed       I never wipe  the neck     that’s a sign of disrespect      and so the black wine        passes from his lips to mine        and his eyes are night       and his smile is daylight         and he has my undivided   fascination     I’m his puppet        to lead to heaven        to hell        and other places        you can’t find on maps

 and downtown in the killing fields       he makes my ghosts to dance        that old man reeks of corruption       I found him sleeping in fetid leaves            in the woods      in the damp dark season        when decay rules        and everything dies but death     I met him in the pub one night        ladling on the charisma          buying everyone pints        yeah   I know him well     he’s my mentor         my guru     my homeboy          but we were never friends  

graft

 it’s all graft sure enough      our sweat buys us candy        but there’s little gravy handy       I was a toiler       couldn’t get myself square        but manna flows from heaven        and I know I’m due my share    

I tried to scrape an honest living       but didn’t have a prayer       some call it criminality        but I don’t really care       coz only a fool goes hungry         when there’s gravy stashed somewhere         

faded

 poor boy shone feeble        against a starless sky     before he flickered out          to give up the ghost and die      was there a moment       when he knew his time had come?       did he awaken in some faulty paradise        reserved to losers and bums?      or did he simply blink out       as he spiralled away       on his final moth man trajectory?          prayers were said for him        which fell on deaf ears        the lesser god  of hobos and junkies         was just too stoned to hear      his last gasp went unattended      there were no fond farewells       no intimate gestures         he drowned alone in a pool of vomit      there’s no dignity in that        his sleep was too swift and deep     to allow for human comfort       we held a day of weeping      but his name has long since faded from our lips         no one here remembers his face     and no one really cares       

sailor

 I shied away from the pain       I balled up my grief      and swallowed it whole      I never

 let on        but inside I was dying       you left me here      standing alone       misadventure

 they said      but I knew better      you killed yourself     through reckless abandon         one

 way or the other      you simply didn’t care        

I can’t afford to think about this       it’ll only drag me down     but where can I go      that you haven’t been       down to the shore        and into the water       out to the undertow       where all the drowned sailors      bleached by the sea         huddle together       for comfort and ease

ghosts

 I’m sickening again       I’ve been infected      I have ghosts in my blood        you best roll me a stony      make it a hard one    I got the fear something chronic         but I’ll keep on going        I’m bound to get lucky       I’m prepared to die trying      this world can make you        this world can break you    but there’s no coin in self pity     and there’s no solace in tears        

 

I don’t believe in resurrections        or in tearful reconciliations         the past is gone forever       ghosts take shape in its shade        my head is haunted with that fearful geometry        and the friends undone by time and tide          I’m a single link in the chain forever broken        my heart has formed a compact       between the living and the dead 

 

ghosts come to me     through my own reflection         ghosts come to me    in the wake of my dreams         ghosts come to me     with untimely reminders       this life is hard          and shorter than it seems        so take your best shot        and maybe another       you might win some      but you’ll likely lose more         this life pays out        with diminishing returns      no-one passes this way        with bridges left unburned

 

outside

 I’ve got the deep chill      from standing on the outside      coz while all the world was fast asleep      I was on a bender       and burning out my innards        with jugs of liquid fire           the intrusion sparked the fear within     and I blew a heavy fuse trying to contain it        back in the night       back where the fun begins      I’m all fingers   thumbs    and knotted nerves      but I’m skinning up      and dumbing down        I have avian reflex in beak and eye       but this rooster’s teeth      are worn      from gnawing on old grievances 

 

she always thought       I wore my heart on my sleeve      but she was wrong     only the sleeve was real      the heart was an affectation       heart  or soul    what’s the difference      when they’re both absent?      she said I’d carry that load      through the ages     and that I’d been enslaved    by my own instruments      I serve     but do not know

 

 I learned to run from her sagacity     I need no commentary on my decline   I leave my own words as reference      a salutary lesson in personal abuse      my words are as brittle as my bones       and as hollow as my intent       I didn’t force the world on anyone    I acted as an outsider     a mere observer    in my capacity as counterfeit hero    if my efforts fell short of my bourgeois pretensions       it was more a matter of attention span     and my penchant for the seemingly exotic      than any predilection for deceit    

 

somewhere on my covenanted half-acre of hell     there stands a mausoleum     washed smooth with tears      here the holders of my promissory notes  are interned     along with the wax effigies of former lovers       I lie    but not through intention       I lie from carelessness      and a casual disregard for facts      I have a proven record of self-deception        and quiet ineptitude       may the evidence show  that I was never deliberately cruel    but was perhaps reckless in the pursuit of pleasure     the most damning indictment against me is selfishness      I confess my guilt       but reserve judgment to myself

 

tallyman

 praise be to the tallyman        who sells us back our shirts       and keeps our children hungry      for the sake of democracy        the nation’s books are balanced        on our broken backs        we make believe while making do       that we hang on in together       and he provides the glue

tonic

 I waited up all night          by the telephone         when you eventually called       I said I wasn’t home         I’m sorry for that now       coz baby I need your prayers         I need your readies too        there’s been a blues revival       I’ve been chemically castrated      stitched into my blankets    and left out in the rain        maybe something I desired      crossed that invisible line     I offered my contrition          they stoned me just the same         and left me still        yet still       conflicted bruised and torn     subject to the tender mercies       of the compassionately numb          save me from do gooders           who would save me from myself        I just need a tonic       to improve my mental health      

the taj mahal

when I get low     I get high       I’m not gambling for salvation       indifference is my prize       when the sun sets on the good and clean       the geeks and freaks and junkies      join the medicine show      our bankrupt ideals      and crooked jungle rules     weave loathsome pinprick tapestries     that stain us to the soul           and the wonders of the world      dissolve on our dirty spoons     to be regurgitated     in an idiot geometry      in the catch as catch can        where our flight is stunted       with leaden wings           in another shabby paradise        not the advertised      cool blue nile      or the taj mahal     with the lover of our dreams       but instead the squalid nightmare        of endlessly repetitious junkydom          and the eventual release        of that fatal final dose

 

radio rental

they say everyday is a school day      and that knowledge is power        so why are we ruled by apes?     am I evolving?       being?    becoming?     what the fuck am I becoming?  

I’ve been playing hooky          they say I’m radio rental              but I never burned a book      I’m just a well intentioned idiot       trying to carve   an identity from bars of soap      I’m none the wiser       but at least I’m clean      some of the time        we’re all filthy now       our carbon footprints      lead straight to the gates of hell      

 if we’re lucky we’ll end up in a museum        but no-one here gets lucky        unless by accident      I played the hand they dealt me       it kept me in the game        but I’m on a losing streak       the whole world feels the same       the world has gone radio rental        we’re all of us insane