Fat Bastard

King of the big fat bastards – apologetically corpulent – a sedentary warrior on a motionless battlefield. I’m sick of this shabby body and its flaccid interior. Bashful and shamefaced I pace out my days on the inside. I know where everything is in here – no surprises. They think I’m crazy, but I’m just hungry. Buddha wants me for a dumpling and I can no longer hide my embarrassment behind a jocular disguise – I’m going the full agoraphobic – I might never go out again.

Disfigured, bloated and monumentally fractured. The faulty chemistry, the kink in the grey matter that winds me up to draw me down, has me flip flopping and gasping for air. My stars twinkle softly; they shine low. I eat the silence. The silence allows my delusions to flourish. I can almost buy into them.

The rest of this story for the most part simply withers on the page. I could drone on without meaning or direction, but I won’t. These are the hollow words of a foolish man; too vain to leave the past well enough alone. My days pass so slowly – must be the road I’m on – a road only traveled by the weary and the lost.

*Image ‘Window’ by Fran Yule

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Immaculate

I just hopped off the bus

to fulfil my statutory obligations

I been zapped in the brain pan

by that solar radiation

if she had only seen me

back when I eclipsed the sun

she’d have a little more patience

with her beloved skid row bum

now she was feeling mystic like

and squatting on her haunches

she cast an evil eye on me

so I gave her beer and roses

I was coming off some slick machine

and was very nearly empty

this was in the morning after

on a day of rest and prayer

I played the messianic dope fiend

she made out she didn’t care

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Monsters

there’s no sleep for me
there are monsters in my bed
the creeping sons of chaos
just will not let me rest
.
they’ve fashioned lethal weapons
from my sacred memories
to lacerate my consciousness
with morbid fantasies
.
I plead not for redemption
that’s far beyond my reach
I bargain for the mercy
of eventual release
.
deliver me from kindnesses
invested in by strangers
I have no use for enemies
when friends will steal my tongue
.
this union of erstwhile companions
this compact of seasoned liars
have anointed me with kerosene
and lit my funeral pyre
.

Meat

I could afford to laugh it off

it was only dirt being dished

and I’d heard it all before

my lips were sealed

so my hands were clean

but she had her snout in deep

and was up to her ears in shit

she ought to get herself a read

drop the plastic facsimile

of injured humanity

and learn how to dig deep

for something more substantial

than gaining friends and influence

through her poisonous inquisition

I’ll take no lessons

from some menopausal midlife crisis

and her alky reject fancy man

I could see it in their eyes

no fucking empathy

they see only meat

and they left me feeling raw

down at the bloody end

of their killing floor

.

Mislaid

it’s a tedious chore

and no mistake

around the houses

and home again

the whole rigmarole

a wasted journey

a tortuous trek

in an inclement season

but I’ll find myself

on some darkened side street

soaked to the skin

but no worse for wear

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