the years
give
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 I tell no one what I’m feeling coz feelings come and go you can’t own love no, love owns you it’s a deal you can’t refuse when you’re tired of being alone
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
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?
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
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
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
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
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
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
