abracadabra

 

back in the beginning       when your words were absolute      you spoke my name       and I came to life      my love was formed on your lips      what kind of fiction does that make me?       copyright  notwithstanding            sometimes I’m stony real        others I’m a mere affectation        I’m not sure what that signifies        could be I’m not real at all        just a minor character         in some worn out old story       whispered in the darkness          in the end there was a murmur          when your words were obsolete

hear my voice: 'Dagger' 

the poppy curse

 

I’ve had bags of excuses     I could have quit      but I truth be told      I enjoy this shit       in any case         it could be worse      I could be stricken       with the poppy curse         for people can wither      or so it seems        like poppies wilting       in a field of dreams

listen to 'Dagger' 

the sum of the beast (the slaves of babylon)

 

she bore the mark     we all bore the mark      the crown of sorrow        the sum of the beast      for we were marked for toil      and bloodshed      the stolen children of babylon      grafting in darkness for five bucks an hour

she was a back alley goddess       turning tricks since she was twelve     but all her scars      and pox riddled body      could not conceal     the beauty within      she was marked for exploitation      a plaything for corrupted souls

I turned to her in my hour of solace     free of charge      no strings combined     she was the sun     and its unholy laughter      they stoned her to death      with a needle and spoon       I begged her to stay        she begged me to go

there’s no escaping this concrete accretion        this city is built on murder and greed      it’s foundations are carved in bondage and suffering        so turn to me now     you children of babylon       demons in limousines       are baying for your souls      

hear my voice @ 'Dagger' 

heaven

 

 

I don’t believe in heaven      heaven’s not for me     heaven is a melancholy place     full of desiccated ghosts     longing for the living     and the way things used to be     I have no time for heaven     heaven is for the dead     I know you’re not in heaven       to me you still live on       if only in my head       your name is not forgotten     it’s ever on my lips     and your face will linger      in my memory          for as long as I still breathe       you live on in me

I'll be your gun

 

eye spy      did you scope me real good?     do  you like what you see?        every insecurity, deception, and conceit      exposed         but for your eyes only          and not just for fun        I'm the raw nerve       and baby, you're killing me        lay your cards on the table       coz what you give is what you get     how do you rate my performance?       have you seen enough yet?         if you'll be my mirror       I'll be your gun       we'll paint this town red        but not just for fun

 

  I want to be free       don’t you want to be free?      I want a piece of everything        and everything       I mean everything       from bloody bath water      to the virgin rays of the newly risen sun      signifies something to the human heart          where everything is true            and everything is one            come back to my world          stay for a while     we’ll cook up some action          but not just for fun        you can show me your wounds         and I'll be your gun

 hear my voice: 'Dagger'

the leader

 

heaven beats in tiny breasts         they can trample them all     with their filthy jack boots       but they’ll never extinguish     the source of that flame       brother where is your contribution?        this is the season of atrocity       better get yourself a weapon quick     another messiah is emerging in the east       he says he’s going to save his people      from the spectre of old time fascism         it’s the rhetoric of the strong man       lacking his one weighed ounce of solid soul        he’s the shepherd of our hellish nightmares       the instrument of some demonic design         etching his place in history      in cordite and innocent blood        the leader shall be remembered        as the servant of beelzebub

houdini

 

here I am again        titanic in proportion       sinking like stone      sweet jesus show some mercy     and bring me back down          I've been on a death trip for a week       a week of bloody tears stinging my eyes     a week of hound dogs on my heels      and that’s a rough ride      for a man in my condition        I have criminal juice boiling black inside of me        I've been rendered meat       hung up on butcher's hooks       and pounded into pulp       slaughtered by my memories        I  can’t escape my memories       I’m shackled by the past      no longer cast as human       I'm just a fraction of a man        staring into dark infinity      my cup is filled with ghosts       I sup it's bitter poison        a fermented  blend of treason      concocted from regret and recrimination         dear lord    I need a fix     to blow away my shrouds        to lift my psyche out of this    I never meant any harm  to anyone       but I'm a prisoner just the same         I'm the last man standing         there’s no-one else to blame

hear my voice on the album ‘Dagger’

je suis un zombie

 

I can cruise       six miles over        but you gotta come down      sometime          I got the pulse      electric in my veins         I’m throbbing with static       drowned  in the darkness       and drenched in black rain      this could be a dream        for all I know      I can’t tell the difference      in my somnambulist phase       je suis un zombie        welcome to my nightmare       my up is down       I’m drowning in mirrors       I cut my edge     from the shattered reflections         of the bipolar ripples       that run through my creation       I was moulded in the image of my maker       semi divine        in my mucky enclosure        talk to me now       I’m lost and alone       I’m fighting with shadows      so far from home

Hear my voice on the album 'Dagger'

loup garou

 

I’m an old dog now            and just getting older           all the violence and insanity       has been bleached from my bones           time turns lions into lambs         and melts swords into plowshares           but I won't be corralled       into some holding pen behind the abattoir                 I have the moon in my throat          and blood in my eyes               I could still squeeze out           one more explosion         one more bout of mania              to see me down the road

hear my voice 'Dagger'

NSFW

 

they tried to straighten me out        the captains of industry         they wanted to scrape me clean       and strip me of autonomy       they said I was maladjusted        they had to save me from myself          they took down my particulars         and stowed me on the shelf        but I contracted  negativity        from the bullshit that they fed to me       there is no trace of dignity      in their cruel economy        I'm just another victim of industrial disease      I'm a pile of lazy bones        redundant and ill at ease

 

real poets fire blank verse

 

dead horses saddled and flogged         the symbol of futility       ideographs of broken people      damaged and confused              forty years in the harness      dragging for the man      at the end of my bloody tether       I pulled a smash and grab        I stole an ounce of freedom           if only in my head       I took to scrawling words        to score some gravy with my bread         

those first were words ugly       but beautiful just the same        so I rearranged their order          and gave them different names       some they say there's madness in my method       that I have a turn of phrase       but from where I stir the pot        all words look the same        there is no magic incantation       no happy ever after          I may as well tear up those words       and post them down the crapper

hear my voice: "Dagger".

gently turn the tides

 

I ebb and flow         a creature born of circumstance        I apply strictly crooked reasoning         to this strictly crooked world                  I chart the geometry of being          deploying instruments         of my own design           it's an esoteric task       but mine is a ministry          a ministry of one         I'd love to touch the sun              with my banner fully unfurled      but for the moment     I'm consigned to ebb and flow       on the gently turning tide  

I ebb and flow         a captive of coincidence             I speak when I'm spoken to         this is no time for clever  rhetoric               they can lock you up        for speaking too loud       so I mind my own business        and mark my own time        worldly concerns are best left for those          who will carve a new paradigm       from the flotsam of the old        but in the meantime          I simply ebb and flow      while the tide gently turns

hear my voice: 'DAGGER'