My Death Songs

 man     I’m strung out like never before        my death songs bud ruby on my lips     the voices of ancient lovers        exposed in tender hearts  and bloody groins       sing the song eternal       and their words breathe sexual in my hungry ears         they know the sounds I long to hear      theirs is the music of children’s laughter      mixed with my own foolish lamentations          those tears will always flow      while the burden of love is loss     but the love exultant shall not die         together we shall make time in the choir celestial

 

God Kills

I was high        obscenely naked and high        and she was low with her blows         in her kicking boots         her dirty snake eyed boots       I would not wear such boots       coz I’m an natural  man         and no one poisons my well         no one bleeds me dry        only God can kill me          he’ll have step so lightly      coz I never close my eyes       I rehearse my dreams           and  I have learned to fly

snake eyes

my stones are choking      this pressure is relentless       all men are cursed        some more than others      most are oblivious      others have seen the signs         there’s a dead dog at the side of the road       I’ve seen that sign before…       …pennies in my eyes…       …death is a constant       there are no exceptions       there is no cheating death through liturgy or magic       but I’m headed for cover just the same 

there ain’t no judas goat       tethered to my psyche       my doors are always barricaded        against imposters and thieves        coz I’ve been fucked before      though most of my wounds are self inflicted        that war is over now      I’m just trying to carve out a peace        that don’t stink of defeat        it’s not a question of luck      I’m already consigned to the power that rules my fate       and it’s written in my stars        that I’ll be rolling snake eyes from now on

candy

I learned to embrace my failings       I had little choice      my signature moves are suicidal        but they are carved in stone habitual         I’m just a foolish old man        with a juvenile heart       I made a compact with the devil      I’d struggle all my days         but they’d never be dull

I tried it once or twice      the measured banality        of sacred vows and maximum fidelity      but human bondage wasn’t for me      I’m bone idle          too lazy to play happy families        no sour grapes though     they fed me candy       the taste still lingers         bittersweet       with a hint of almond 

obituary

my shadow lengthens       as the nights draw in       there’s  little warmth       in the distant sun      I’m carving names        it’s tombstone season      our days are numbered        we know not how      so, I wrote my own obituary        I was generous to myself       I gave all I had to give        I took all I had to take        my books are balanced      and inky black        post mortem analysis has revealed        a life misbegotten in the pursuit of pleasure        I  didn’t take life too seriously        I took it for a ride

lycanthropic

 back in the bygone       it was all lumpy gravy      served hand to mouth       but I rarely went without      I fought bitterly for every morsel that fell from the big table      what’s in a man’s blood that makes him so combative?       I cultivated mostly clean thoughts         in my mostly clean mind        but I still dredged up the filth from time to time       there were nameless troubles fomenting behind my back      I had the fear on something chronic        a man can’t live like that       he can only slowly die      I had to get a new gimmick        or maybe a change of skin       I have the power to do that      I can always change my skin 

missing constellations

 I’m out of favour with the cognoscenti        I strike too sombre a tone for the dawn chorus     they say this bird only charms to deceive          but old unhappy far off things       tug at memory with icy hands         I never truly sinned         not in my heart              I’m as good as the next man         as good as I have to be         I’m getting into my beast now       coz it makes no difference to me        what you think       so don’t listen to my shite       I’ll only poison your ears       with rancid prolix     and juvenile posturing      but I’m just an old man       with a young and selfish heart       don’t get me wrong        I wish you well       god grant you goodness and plenty        just not too much       and not too close to me

 

I packed my metaphoricals       time to crash out        this is my last incarnation      I turned indecent shades of buddha        and invalidated my warranty      so they cancelled my subscription       I wasn’t cut out for the worker’s paradise          I don’t get mixed up in it       coz I’m not sure it’s clean        they say I’ve shit on the rules that bind fathers and sons       but I’m a kindly ruin         I’m archaeology        don’t dig me up          I want to be alone         it was all in my head         but long ago        my missing constellations         have long since turned to dust

bridges

day by day        my vibrations grow thinner          I best seal my books        before an inspector         steals my secrets           man, I’m on the frayed edge           it’s combat stress        every weekend         back from the pub       a sorcerer full of secrets          I can speak the old abracadabra        do a little kiss and tell        but I’ll bite my tongue        on my long walk home         I won’t mention you         mum’s the word        no one needs to know        where our bodies are buried           or who has lain with who       there’s no need to worry       I’m strictly confidential         you can bank on my silence        this isn’t my first caper        and it won’t be my last         people are at war          with their inner dimensions       and they ain’t taking prisoners         this close to the front           I know the pain of universal conflict      but I’m not afraid of circumstances        can you smell that?       our bridges are burning        I’ll dance in their ashes        when I’m good and drunk      

tamagotchi warrior

I need       christ how I need      there’s never enough         to fill my need           I got the craving         something chronic       I’m not saying I’m sick          but I’m more than interested          this shit is the filth       there’s always the flip side         every silver lining        wrapped in a shit storm        I count my blessings       but they have edges          lacerating edges            I’m a bloody mess         from coming and going         I plough a straight furrow        but that’s just camouflage        I like to blend with the static 

Bethlehem

 I was reborn      after the big sleep       the deep sleep        the sleep of dreams       I was tired to the bone        and sick of monsters        and men are monsters        who take up arms         these are the days of the beast         the beast tattoos our hearts          with the dread apprehension        and we live in fear       and fear makes us monsters        but there is no defence          from the certainty of death        only the promise of life eternal        in the kingdom to come           for hope springs eternal      here in Bethlehem

submarines

 what a palaver     there’s no doubt      she dished dirt      the full kitchen sink       like some tacky soap       I said lend me your body     I’ll wipe that smile off your face         a little dark humour      from a darker place      you know who you’ll answer to      back indoors         you can’t beat that peach       they bruise too sweet        she was dancing with moondogs         she dances real good           but her mind is gone         still, any old tart in a storm

she was looking for someone         to submerge herself in     someone to redeem her dreams       but life shows little mercy          I didn’t have the space          and her motion made me sick         we was shacked up less than a week       before we sprang one     that’s the trouble with submarines         they are rarely observed         and never experienced        but I’I was in it for the kicks        the rest is propaganda

bona

 it’s those lesser evils       that keep us tuned        to the straight and narrow        we didn’t choose this life       but it’s our bread and butter          god knows we’re bona         good for nothing      good for a laugh       good after bad        so dummy up and shine on this          I’m only saying this for your own benefit        be a shame to stumble          to stumble and fall         on yer fat arse        this late in the game         shape you’re in          shape I’m in         shapes we’re in        we do the best we can        with what we’ve got         wherever we are      we do the best we can         but we’re only as good          as we have to be