there ain’t no partial truths
there ain’t no might have beens
it’s either true or false
there ain’t no in-betweens
they say the truth will set you free
but first, it’ll fuck with your head
if you can’t deal with that
you may as well be blind
coz the truth’s a revolution
fomenting in your mind
it only becomes apparent
when heart and head align
being special is nothing special everybody is special to somebody I draw no conclusions and I don’t get specific this world is a wonder if you’re paying attention the people who live here are beautiful
and terrible none of them were born
alone no matter what they tell
you every mother’s son had a bosom for a pillow no one walks the earth alone
Ain’t it hard
just to live? There’s no accounting for people or what passes for right and
wrong. I’d been shooting my mouth off. I was up to no good with nowhere to turn
but bad. I’d deviated from the norm. I’d
been scaring the neighbours. Somebody called the cops. Yeah, somebody called
the cops. But I know my rights.
“You have the
right to obey. Compliance is mandatory. There is only one rule: obey all the
rules.”
They held me
on trumped-up charges of lewd behaviour and vagrancy. They confiscated my shoelaces. They
confiscated my humanity. They took me to a doctor who said,
“What’s wrong
with his head is anybody’s guess. He needs to be disinfected. He’s channelling
subversive vibrations. We’d better lock
him up; I think that’s for the best.”
They put me
in the quiet room, where I’d plan for my escape. I’d tiptoe right out of
there. I’ve learned to play their game.
I level up
heavy again and again. But I don’t complain. That’s just my lot; it’s always been
this way. Mania is a gift from the cosmos.
The truth don’t stop. It’s rolling on hard, like the driven rain. I have a face
for every season. They can’t take that from me.
I’m flowering in heaven though my roots are in hell I’ve come into remission from sorrow and regret I no longer freak out at the slightest provocation I’ve achieved harmony in heart and mind it’s time to loosen up create a new space for my peace the world is big and full of woes I could be cut down at any moment but I’m free for now and that’s enough for me
I was not easy to help but I was helped for some my illness was seen a a failure or even a betrayal but my world was broken and I reached out for a new one no one would condemn a cancer victim saying ‘he brought it on himself’ but my friends diminished in number those are the perverse mathematics of life I don’t mind being ghosted I live for myself to hell with everyone else I’ve forgiven those erstwhile friends who could only see the surface of things I don’t require validation I made it on my own I’m an individual now a man of some distinction
we were a pack
and we made meat but we had to
be ruthless with those who could
not we would dance in the sacred
manner horizontally with the shades down private individuals living in a private world
I got the blame when it all fell apart and maybe I deserved it paint
me wicked everyone does it’s easier that way there are too many pigments in the other picture I grieved for that cabal of erstwhile friends and lovers when
they fell on me like wolves to tear
the world apart
the years
take
I’m docile
now
polished
smooth
I wouldn’t
leave a ripple
if you
dropped me in the ocean
I could be
making waves
but I’m
coasting from here on in
I’ve made my
choices
what is a life
but a series
of choices?
I live
according to my nature
it’s too
late now
for anything
else
becalmed once again deep in the fucking doldrums went to the doctor he told me to lighten up but that cunt’s a fool this time I’m dying slowly, by degrees it’s the dead of liquid night I’m adrift on the tides of memory half in shadow, half in light I sometimes hear your voice can you still hear mine?
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
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
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
