my brand new friend

 

people can fuck you up

tell me if you’ve heard this one before

I didn’t know her face     but her moves were familiar    she said she needed to be loved      but she wasn’t ready to bleed for it       I understood that       I’d done my share of bleeding     I’ve drowned in my own tears

I don’t let that shit in my house       this poor boy don’t believe in romance       but I’ll adhere to anything        that makes me feel real      life gives me all I need       and I don’t ask for much       I’m just looking for a friend      not a nursemaid       or  a crutch

x ray words

 

I found some raw material      

on the back seat of the bus    

a thousand original recipes     

written from the heart      

I’ll smother them in gravy     

and pass them off as my own     

isn’t fiction just a kernel of truth hidden in a lie?    aren’t all writers prostitutes and thieves?      some words are designed to mislead      but other words have x ray powers    that penetrate the soul     

I  want to write in those words    

in crazy neon letters ten feet tall     

I know I’d get off on that      

let me tell you why     

I stood up  to this life      and I want to get that down on paper          one day I’ll find the words I’m looking for       and leave them on the bus     for some other sucker to find     it’ll be my message in a bottle     my little gift to posterity     much of it will be bullshit       but some of it will be me

 

cogito, ergo sum

when I was young

I hurt my eyes

staring into the sun

for days after

the image of the sun

was fused into my mind…

I came out of nowhere      but that don’t mean a thing      when you’re twelve years old    I was always a book worm     because knowledge is power      while ignorance only forges shackles      every saturday morning I’d head to the library      always the library      the temple of knowledge     my sanctum sanctorum        the source of my power      where the blinding light of reason       flooded my busy retinas       and fed my hungry mind       I was sparked into being       in the cauldron of ideas       I learned to question everything        as everything questioned me      to think about my thinking     because that’s what I am       that’s what I understand

  

mr nice

 

they tell me bad is back

but that’s not where I’m at

I just stepped outside

the sun spoke to me

she said ‘get high’

and I’m glad to comply

why don’t you step out too?

shed your aggravations

get yourself a new gimmick

it’s nice to be nice

and I like to feel nice, don’t you?

 

Loser

 

I’ll salt my beer

with my own fucking tears

I tried everything twice

it always turned out bogus

why can’t I be forgiven?

who made me the enemy?

I don’t want to be on the outside

nose pressed against the window

so who wrote the rules

that made me the loser?

maybe we’re all fucking losers

did you ever think of that?

still, you’d rather lose a lover    

than love a fucking loser

don’t mind me

I’m not bitter

I’m not sweet either

I’ve been rolling snake eyes

since the game began

I can’t win for losing

it’s the story of my life

totally fucked up

 I’m totally fucked up

it’s more than an excuse

it’s symptomatic

I’m totally fucked up

but I’m not alone.

the whole world is fucked up

as is everyone in it

we’ve all been damaged

beaten and abused

draw your own conclusions

everywhere you turn you lose

coz this old world plays rough

you know how people talk

people love to talk

of life and love and liberty

but the world has heard enough

the world don’t care who you are

or how big you dream

they’re gonna monetise you

they’re gonna monetise you

if they have to crush your soul

Tommy Gun

 

I let it rip with psychic bullets   

from my imaginary tommy gun     

I don’t mean to hurt nobody     

but I won’t let up until I’m done

I massacre my friends and neighbours     

I kill ‘em off one by one    

I don’t play god

I have no favourites

I got bullets enough for everyone

I don’t bear them any malice     

it’s just my way of having fun

 

unconditional love

 

you were always my friend

my patient companion

didn’t you feed my hunger?

didn’t you nurse my fever?

indulge my childish schemes?

haven’t you always stood by me

no matter what I’d done?

if I ever seemed ungrateful

I’m sorry for it

I’m sorry I lost myself

I think I thought

I was someone else

someone less deserving

of your unconditional love

I just wanted you to know

I treasure that sentiment

more than I cherish life itself

near dead poets

 

the only good poet     is a dead poet

isn’t that what you said?

well, I died on the pillow

I died a thousand times

does that make me Buddha

or just some lesser brand?

crimson stains on virgin sheets

bad blood pulsed through my brain

lithium once was my friend

now my deadly enemy

‘do you know where you are?’

‘in the hospital’

‘where?’

‘everywhere’

the hospital is everywhere     stretching around me    like a bloody caul   a labyrinth of endless umbilical corridors      leading off into infinity      into the dark wards       the ghost wards       of ossified patients        and patient medics        tending to the dead     

but I have words

choice words

futile words

scribbled in the shadows

falsified in blood

just another near dead poet

wallowing in the mire

tsunami

 

I have a surge on   babelogue    scripture in the mother tongue   I love the weight    the rhythm    the cadence   of the words   as they accost the senses   a cymbal’s clash    the lightning flash     the rap of the machine gun     fuse in the imagination       is this some kind of magic?     is there substance to words?   how can they fill me up?    I’m fit to burst with the teeming    spilling    explosion of them    out there in the world there are tiny silences    little gaps    begging to be filled     in here there’s a cacophony of sound and colour screaming to get out    my head is a rain forest    a railway station    an ocean reef     I surf on a tsunami of words    crashing onto the snow white page

anecdotal

 

thanks for the coffee

and the stories too

in a world of actors

you hold your own

but I aint buying

I’m selling

I’m not a consumer

I’m purely product

this shit doesn’t just happen

I had to stitch each piece by hand

it took some time

and a little imagination

but just feel the quality of the material

my fiction has an unlikely provenance

a thousand hands sculpted its features

with brute force and ignorance

but the lies contained herein

were honestly acquired

 

punch drunk

 

every story needs a villain      might as well be me       coz I’m no fucking good      but you’re stuck with me     all I want from you is the killer blow      the coup de grace     another round       one more drink     should kill me off     don’t worry, I won’t blame you       I have a conscience      but it’s slender       no, I wouldn’t blame you      I’d blame myself     I’m getting that heavy feeling again     I’m all beat up      totally punched out      I’m not the man I thought I was        that cunt thought he could fly       but I’m paralysed      from the neck up      too many blows to the head       too much poison in my cup     I feel I’m halfway dead     I do believe I’ve had enough