I’m in deep too deep subterranean tunnelling in the dark sifting shit for a living if you can call it living I’m inclined to think I’m beyond that I was pronounced dead by the committee and the committee ought to know this could be my hell or some other phony religious device I’ve got to get out of this hole before it becomes my nest I’m loaded with dynamite I just don’t have no matches but one day I’ll explode catalysed by friction and I’ll see you all again in the kingdom yet to come
I fell for the psycho-sexual intrigue again it was fucked up but she said I was her man who was I to disagree? did you ever get the déjà vu? the feeling that you met before? I’m a sucker for that shit I guess we’re all the same my alarm bells were ringing but I didn’t listen I tried to tell myself I was only in it for the ride I’d take it as it comes coz I’m that kind of guy but I’m a sucker just the same that cannot be denied
slowly turn the tides to ebb and flow in darkness what’s the spread today? am I gonna make it? coz I feel low like I’m definitely sinking there’s a pattern to my days they grow darker in procession I’ve been blunted and the sun barely reaches into the hole I’m digging it could be darker that’s the way it’s heading my progress is relentless the darkness unforgiving
we made a compact right from the very start we’d be secret lovers with no strings attached we were just two thieves playing with stolen time and what we shared together remains buried in our hearts but I sometimes speak your name when there’s no one else around I whisper that I love you but hardly make a sound
I stared in the mirror until I no longer recognised my face but saw in my
reflection that friday’s child is a trumpet of peace and a sword of
deliverance from the forces of darkness
I laid me down by the still waters an oasis of life in the motherless waste the wisest of fools will surrender their hearts to the love universal
I’ve been turned out with no brass in my pockets but I count the stars as personal wealth my home is heaven this born again loser who supped with the devil and drank to his health
too many
hyenas not enough lions no individuals left in this menagerie our tribal brothers fuelled on junk and weed are waiting to cut us down to size but I shall not
be shamed by another’s words or deeds I
am now consigned to the power that
rules my fate there’s nothing
left to fear in the face of certain
death
I am centred now
on myself alone and on the
accumulation
of personal power I stand as a singular entity empty
and without form I require no validation I have no points to score I sacrificed my pretentions and freed up the space between myself and the world to polish my connection to the man within
sometimes in
the moment I forget to think about
myself and it feels good to be
that free I’m tired of looking in
distorted mirrors and preening my interior with
the kind of self perception that flatters to
deceive
I don’t want to escape I simply want tuned
in I don’t know where I’m going I do know where I’ve been I no longer worry over the
inconsequential and it’s all
inconsequential as far as I can see and
I can see quite far on any given day
I do my own thing
it’s the only path that suits me it’s the path that leads to
freedom no one showed
me I have no
method I have no
teachers it’s easier
that way I
am inconspicuous and self possessed and
that’s the form of freedom that matters most to
me
there are some graves you cannot fill with drink or drugs or sacred vows some things die from no good cause and our grief blossoms with black and blue petals
we poisoned our prayers with bitter intentions and lived to reap the spoils of conflict our bloody wounds are constant reminders that the pain we deal out will one day find us
breakfast time dawn streams through your blistered eyes somebody got lucky last night but it wasn’t you so pull up yer drawers and dry your eyes
don’t make yourself sick
you’ve done no harm today
well, nothing that will stick
so take a shower roll a
joint get yer metal fixed
hey dreamer! on
yer toes don’t space out they’ll go through your pockets leave you with hee haw it’s a long walk home when you’re empty
you stole a little pleasure your action was real slick you
had yourself a good time god knows
you felt no pain but now it’s
time to scuttle home before they make you pay
I think a black cat crossed my wires and cast me the evil eye it may have fucked with my mojo but I don’t seem to mind coz there’s turmoil in my pockets and gear on every corner I have time enough to burn and the urge is something fierce
all I need is a dab to lubricate my illusion and liberate my ego I
lost faith in my identity and
confidence in my face I’m just a
slab of ancient mutton well past my sell by date I’m
totally out of contention and no longer play that game
I‘ve become a jelly man neck
deep in heavy dope author of a
comfortable oblivion myopically forgetful empty headed and exempt rendered
completely harmless through drug induced psychosis and
I’m easy with that vibe but only when
I’m high
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
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
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
