lies

 got banged up         for telling porkies                wasn’t the first time           won’t be the last             lies are social lubrication             truth is a pill       that’s hard to swallow       lies are a common human currency            truth is a jewel beyond comparison                       so rare that no-one sees it    if it stares them in the face           I’m saving mine for maximum impact                      it’s my secret weapon          my get out of jail free card                         the final resort         when lies won’t suffice

sister midnight

 she sees meat          where otherwise serpents shine  she carves deep      her bloody policy             seeks only to divide            I knew her long ago     in the once upon a time    but we were never friends            and she’s no kin of mine               here comes the night         the night that bears her name                   this bed of nails was a gift of design she said our wounds would keep us honest                       but that was just  a lie        she left  her mark on me                      and taught me not to promise        things I can’t  deny she came to me a refugee       there was some truth behind her lies           she knew I was a thief        but I never picked her pockets                       and she never asked me why                      but we shared a century of torments                       under midnight skies

purple hearts

 you’ve been busted comrade                  we know where you sleep      we have this place surrounded                        your delusional thinking                will not go unpunished             you are not immaculate                        you are just criminal          and you have no friends                   you shall face the scaffold         totally alone

some say that genius         is an affliction of the mind   that torment inspires beauty       and the hand of god  has blessed the afflicted                with his loving touch                   but they’re yanking your chain              madness is a lesion of the heart              a slashing torment of the soul                 and no-one hands out purple hearts     for self inflicted wounds

Gethsemane

 are you one of the beautiful people?   

were you provided the opportunity to shine?

you need a friend who can hold you up           

I know where you can cut a new deal

but you gotta get righteous

buy the t-shirt

and tread the path

that leads to glory

you’ll find new friends

among old enemies

making deals

in public lavatories

coz loaves and fishes

don’t mean shit

when your pockets are empty

and you’re dying for a fix

Abercorn Beach

 did you get some peace   when peace was offered?   or is your hatred still a sacred cow?    did you stick to your guns   is that a virtue?   yes   I know the words    but I won’t sing along

anger is stupid   and stupidity kills    so dig me a hole   right next to yours    I’m no genius    neither are you   but I can see   that victory is impossible   in a war between friends

there is only losing    in your philosophy    the final blow   will leave us both morbid   and stranded on the shingles    with memories of drowning boys    who were taken away early   by the ebb of a turning tide   

astrology

 bleeding out between the stars

it was written in my sky

that I was born of the night

to be bioelectrically crazy

and idle to the bone

but it’s not such a raw deal

how can I complain?

when midnight serpents shine

in gardens misty wet with rain   

and even the constellations

are pounding out my name

existential

 this place    burns me out                 with wearisome  repetition    its suburban cliché                   weighs heavy       on my doldrums          and I’m drowning          in an ocean     of sundays            I’ve gone native    in the great nocturnal        I’m flying solo       from now on in   but I'll bail out     before I’m found out              for I have deviated         from the norm so blanket me                with tar and feathers                lead me to the killing floor                   I’ve had enough of the social system        my heart is heavy dread and my bloody knees are sore

paint me blue

 I fled my perch        on a promise            dived head first     into your blues        your terrible ocean blues              you were snake oil and gold dust                        half pretence           half mystery             I fell for you  like the sucker         you took me for                        ‘call me sometime’             that’s what you said           but I lost your number                     along with my head                        you seemed  bona fide                  your credentials were good       but I wasn’t committed      just passing through           what was the catalyst            for my change of heart?        I don’t remember        was it something you said?      the lies that you told?               the tears that you shed?                        you painted me blue                      I painted you red                   I can’t reach you now            why would I want to?        your facts were all fictions     I’ve been once bitten                     and that left its mark

raven

 death is the bird            perched on your shoulder                   who counts your days             and marks out your time                that song is mine                 and never grows older               so bake me some cake           that was hard in the making                 this world belongs           to my children and I

I’ve gone alfresco              from no television        I gather my news    straight from the vine               we’re crashing out            to another dimension          these shoes were insured        for sunnier climes         I poured me some sense               from an unopened bottle            and drank me a truth         that won’t be denied

if you see it      you’ll be it     so don’t get excited              this train will roll     to the end of the line               I can hear music        wrapped up in thunder         I know the words    that make us divine              I’m like the raven              that carries you over      and paints you immortal       if you’re so inclined  

 

the ministry of filth

 if you look for dirt               you’re bound  to find it                        like attracts like                   that’s the law  of intent                        did you run out of pockets?       have you lifted                     more than you can chew?        you better give me everything                        before I wind up dead                    the pigs strip searched my mind                    prima facie evidence                   suggested I was ripe                       there’s something wrong with my brain                        it’s a simple mind bender              from way back when                   did you see them?              did you see my pornographic hands?                did you get my text?                      do you finally understand?             this is the ministry of filth                 and you are in command

mister natural

 old acquaintances              can make for strange bed fellows               more like accomplices than lovers             but this is no next time round                  I’m no blast from the past                        I’ve been authenticated                        as 100% organic                        the totally genuine article             issued in nineteen timbuktu                    

I’m not packing remedies             in my duffel bag                        you can’t count on satisfaction        coz I’m just a minor distraction              and strictly pay for view             you got my name and number                        if you ever catch the blues           tho I might not come running               the way you want me to

soot

I’ve got rockets in my pockets        my fingers are black with soot      I have a full load on      and I’m taking a dive      with a head full of feathers      I get so high it’s obscene     when I get my shit together       and I get my shit together     more often than I should

others might turn to god     but I turned to ashes      I tweaked my mind against babylon’s machinery             this is the secret of happiness       disputed through the ages      in a simple benediction         that ancient curse  of the orient       the fabled pipe of peace