get tough

 jesus won’t save our children      we have to fend for ourselves       we can’t rely on charity      or count on no-one else     in a world where petty tyrants      push everyone around     don’t let the bastards use you     don’t let them grind you down     it’s time to fight for justice       time to choose your ground       don’t hesitate to agitate      or sing out loud and proud      babylon can’t defeat us       we’ll burn the bastard down       

word pimps

 your coffee is getting old…

 

why don’t you drink it up while you carefully weigh your words     and strip them of feeling      before you press them into your album with them opposable thumbs of yours?    I’m crashing outta here      the night is getting young      and I’ve got fires to start.

 

your words are tired and cold…

 

you suck the life outta them      before committing them to dread asylums      where they are measured for straight jackets and confined to padded cells      never to be heard from again      me – I’m going down to Union Square to scream a lung out

 

this place is a cage…

 

café society is an aviary       where the featherless and loveless perch on the brink of boredom surveying an endless procession of days without names     they say repetition is reassuring     but I don’t like to take the same trip twice – that’s why I never read your stuff.

 

I’m flying this coop…

 

fare-thee-well my fair weather pals      you no longer rock my boat and though it’s been swell    I really think it’s time to split before we come to blows    remember that hippy who told us he’d rather die than fight?     well he did   somebody beat him to death last night     I think I made my point

 

I’m starting fires…

 

in this life I’ve been spiked    stabbed    shot and stamped on    so often it don’t hurt no more      I swallowed more poison and stopped more bullets than Rasputin       I lived to tell the tale and do I have tales to tell     but I didn’t learn them in here    I’m gonna torch this jail before I leave    but you can stay      feel free

coyotes

 I was just saying     I’m at an all time low      I need a new prescription     to lift me off the floor      everybody is on some level      where will I find you?      beyond all moral conventions?     striving to break free?    I have no social ambitions        does that make me a loner?      am I outside of society?    we all get a little lonely      we all need love sometime      where did you get yours?       where do I find mine?       like rivers flow into the ocean       to merge with the deep blue sea       there are things that only pass between      the likes of you and me      

beast

 once a radiant boy      light of my mother’s eyes     I am become a beast     and sparkle darkly now     I am become a beast       what once glowed with fire within       is drowned in blood and gore        old unhappy distant things    the battles of long ago     I am  become a beast     conflict is all I know

 

numbers

 I saw my numbers      etched on someone else’s wall     I don’t know what that means     I don’t suppose it matters       love is a foreign country      a stranger on the bus      it don’t come round here no more     it went out with the wind      and the trees     and my mother’s bones      it whispers soft      it whispers low       but it don’t remember my name       out here in the open      bleached by the summer sun       there’s no need for names        total exposure       the duality of nature    a biological exchange     who lives will see       it doesn’t matter any more

the golden crown

 the birdies are singing       a new day is dawning       sunlight fans across the land       powdered gold lights the treetops         nature issues her one command       there’s a majesty to every season    but summer has reigned      since the world first began

graft

 work without reward is slavery      they say there’s dignity in labour      I must’ve missed that scene    I worked hard for my meat    but never got any satisfaction       I’d rather be a thief than a slave     I’d rather help myself       than receive a weekly wage      I take my pleasure without conscience       coz nothing was ever given me      I had to prize it loose       I bit the hand that fed me    I wouldn’t be the first     I shouldn’t be the last     to shape my own reality      and live by my own graft     

broken brain

 the truth is in the feel      in the root and sinew      the truth is in my gut      twisting in my bowels       I don’t have to think      the truth is in my blood       I have it in my power      to light my own fire      so they tried to lock me up        and quench my flame       in the name of good order     they put a pox on my house      and softly dragged me under       they gave me poisonous pills        to alleviate their pain       but I took their tender ministrations       and flushed them down the crapper       they tell me hell is still half empty     its streets are paved with lies      they say the devil knows my name       which comes as no surprise     

night

 I felt the heat from the stars     radiate across the universe     as I lay in the tall grass        with the good green earth        growing all around me         there, at the end of the world       night reigned supreme       and night seeped        into the heart of me      into my very soul    and I knew my days were numbered       but the nights would last forever

alibi

I came and came      ten thousand times      into warmer embraces than these     through summer’s misadventures      and reckless indiscretions      I once had a life       or so it seemed to me     but you’ll never reach me now      these are my darker days       when I’m perfectly alone       you say the dark don’t bother you       but it sure as hell bothers  me      you can take the load off      but I’ll never be that free       I wish I was loaded       I wish I was high      I wish I was somebody else     coz that’s the perfect alibi 

deathbird

 the cry of night       the sound of the street      deathbird      spread your wings       take me to that other place      but not just now     not for a while       give me space      I only need space      to rest a bit       to gather strength   before the day      so kiss my lids       bless my dreams       don’t murder me     just let me sleep

ten thousand miles

 I’m sick of life in the hobo jungle       I’ll have to concoct an escape    I’ve marshalled my resources      my charms and brittle toys       but nothing’s ever real     so I’ll keep my place       wait for my moment          you don’t need an excuse to be poor      you don’t need a uniform to fight in the war         but you need a little faith    to help you through the night     it’s a long way from cleaning windows       but it’s hardly sunny side up       I’m like you      I have lived in the odd moment     and I remember what you said      in your little voice      you said     “I think I’ve had enough, so thank you and good luck”       I didn’t require your ministrations       I expected no gratitude for mine       but I could have used your hand      these last ten thousand miles