the lovers

if you ain’t dealing with power      you ain’t in the game      I know that now      coz she schooled me the hard way      in a world of tyrants, pimps and whores    we chose to be  lovers      that’s always a roll of the dice      but love don’t hurt     it’s losing power that hurts       all human beings deal in power     it don’t make them wicked      but it can make them crazy     it’s all about control       people have emotions      and emotions can be manipulated     she was utterly ruthless with her affections       her love fretted my heart     I died a thousand times on her pillow     but I gave as good as I got     I’ll admit to being cruel      lovers can be cruel      but I don’t regret my crimes     in fact I’m bound to commit some more

 

 

lovin' cup

 

I have to drag so far     to find out what I’m made of     sun bakes down     the streets are hot     can’t find my people      but I can’t shadow down     not with the heat I  got       I walked a million miles      before I got lost      got no blues     got no reds     I best buckle under before I get robbed     it’s been a hard drop     but I broke no bones      write to me      in the hospital      where I get treatment      like everyone else       don’t lock me down       don’t wind me up     fix me in situ     from your loving cup

resurrectionist

 

yesterday’s blues     are a kick in the bollocks     I try to avoid them     but they still burn me down      they poisoned my blood    with a dubious concoction    they said it was an accident      I say it was foolishness      but we all agree something went wrong        because I died on the pillow     while my mind birthed a nightmare        I was walking in my sleep     casting heavy shadows        but I could not escape       they’d locked all the doors

I really can’t recall       everything that happened     but hallucinatory fragments coalesce in horror     a gory exhumation        the dead and near dead rising    I conversed with demons who seemed familiar and fluid    and feasted with ghosts who once were friends of mine       it’s a reoccurring dream      an affliction of memory    I’ve tasted my death and it plays on my mind 

runaway

 

I’ve had thirty years      to perfect my excuses      but sometimes things just happen       for no particular reason       one day I rolled up empty        my heart was no longer in it         that place was slowly killing me         I had to escape my fate      I had to get away      

you can call me selfish      but I was made that way through pressure     I could not face the future the world had planned for me      I visited you today       to put fresh flowers on your grave         and I wondered again what might have been        if I had not run that day

how to be a man

 

the genie is out of the bottle      all magical thought is bogus      I’ll take no comfort there        I’m as good as my conscience dictates      as good as reason allows     anyway, I have nothing to defend      my ambitions are explicit    I’m striving to be human    I have no expectation of a heavenly reward      I am both innocent and worldly      blessed and cursed in equal measure      but I have it in my power to give my life meaning         the only thing that interests me now     is how to be a man

blooded

 

I fought  hard and long     I’m due my day of rest       coz I lived through my darkest hour    and I’m the stronger for it       I once had the curse      I had it something chronic     I developed me some moves     which were totally suicidal        I made an awful mess of things    and don’t expect to be forgiven     but it doesn’t really matter now    I’m just grateful for the experience        it’s been an education       I can move on with my life now      bloody nose and all

 

mystery girl

 

she was cool     a studied cool     way too cool for me     she ate me up for lunch     before she set me free     her killer vice was obvious       foot loose and fancy free        she came on like a viper        just my cup of tea      I thought this was my game      but it was not to be       perhaps I was not ready      maybe I acted foolishly       but I felt we were alike      the mystery girl and me

flat face

 

stumbled again      bashed in my napper     shook a few loose       battling with shadows     but I’m alright      I can take a kicking      I’ll be back for more      soon as my face has mended       a man must learn forbearance      if he wants to earn his freedom      he has to beat the count      every time they knock him down

beggar

 

they beat me into submission        with subtle forms of violence      and the promise of jelly roll       they found out what I was made of      and made me pay for more      I struggled to repay my debts     my back was against the wall     I couldn’t catch a break     there was no relief at all     but I did not fade away      I hung on by a thread       while the ladies of the parish      furnished me with bread     their kindness and generosity     meant I did not freeze      coz there’s no justice in a system      that keeps a man on his knees     

benediction

 

they say the darkest hour

is right before the dawn

they say all kinds of things

most of them are wrong

I’m making progress now

I’m beginning to see the light

no-one is going to save me

least of all Jesus Christ

coz the god I don’t believe in  

may be benevolent and wise

but he don’t hear my prayers

and I don’t spread his lies

 

killing time

 

solitaire again     I cheat when no one’s looking     it’s my modus operandi       I’m habitually dishonest      even with myself     have I said too much already?       do you take me for a liar?    I’ve been known to stretch the truth     in order to make a point    but don’t let that fool you    I have nothing to conceal       still, every now and then     I like to stir the pot         I could tell you stories       we all have dirty stories         if you read between the lines      I’ve shared my darkest secrets      I don’t go into details      the devil’s in the details      I’m only sketching shadows       my way of killing time  

spilled milk

 

cursed with the dark charisma        I’ve often played the villain     but I was only ever fooling      I’m not that self-important        and I don’t really care      what the world is saying     I’ve always done as I pleased      some considered me immoral        I’m not shackled by their thinking       this isn’t my soap opera        I refuse to get involved in episodic drama    milk was spilled       tears were shed      but the tears in my eyes - were from laughter