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13 August 2020

Dark Altars

 

 all my life they spat on me    because I dragged the low end    I got used to     fighting for what’s mine    blood of my blood and bone of my bone    I believed in an eye for an eye    I’d gouge away with bloody thumbs    even if it rendered the whole world blind   

everyone is born with love in them    you have to be taught how to hate    each blow that landed was an education    they taught me and I learned it well    I wanted my pound of flesh on the bone    I’d dig my grave right next to yours    to serve the dictates of my primitive heart

the road to hell is paved    with the tenderest intentions    and even monsters  strike loving bargains    which servile souls    guard most jealously     because there are slaves      who kneel at dark altars    they revere their tyrants    and venerate their oppressors    they are only too eager    to wear their master’s collar    because the gods that we ourselves create    are ours to serve forever

 back in the bygone    I got my jollies    pursuing cheap thrills    with drink, drugs and sex    I feasted with the beast    in the house of inequities    I never ever figured    I’d get a gut full of the beast     or that I’d turn punk    and tear loose like a mad dog    

monsters in uniform    are hot on my trail    they can smell me    it’s the rotten blood     that’s stained me deep    I shall get no rest now     the night belongs to killers     and killers never sleep   

we fear the minions     of the bloody beast    as we fear the beast himself    and so we learned     to live as beasts     and follow beastly rules     for we were meant to serve    and are fit for purpose     because we adore the beast    while we despise ourselves



11 August 2020

Monster (Reanimated)

 

unscheduled hallucinations     and psychotic interludes plagued my formative years      and shaped my final destination      my beat bastard subscription has lapsed and just I wish I could lie down        take a fucking telling     I’m so tired right now       I could drag the world with me through dark corridors to the great panopticon           where elastic promises and suicidal compacts are made by strange bedfellows       there are no casual acquaintances in solitary confinement

the girl on the bed had a question       an unkind and supercilious question      but her query resonated in the psychotic regions of a bleached mind      and sounded an echo in memory       something about my missing soul

“What kind of monster are you?”

I suspected it was more a rhetorical device than a question     so I ignored it     but later I got to thinking        what kind of monster am I?       I’m a blind monster or I would have seen her coming        I’m a deaf monster         or I would have heard her lies         I’m a mute monster      because I said nothing       I’m a numb monster because I felt even less      she was one gift horse      I should have given the full dental     those sceptic teeth made ribbons of ambition      I have little time for those awkward manoeuvres        imposed by some milquetoast Mussolini       I have an agenda sublime to accommodate      we each must follow the mandate of our own hearts       I take solace in the fact that I may be a monster       but I’m closer to heaven than hell

9 August 2020

Attritional

 

3 am again
same old

same old

pavlovian routine

the incessant splatter

of bloody raindrops

on my window panes

the drip, drip, drip

of memories predisposed

to the devices

of my wicked

but splendid fallacies


my nights grow fainter

and are spent figuring

memorial alphabets

into novel expressions

that pierce my eardrums

to fill my head

with poisoned splinters

 

a little milk and honey

is all I’m asking

a little milk and honey

to nourish and sustain me

through the bitter hours

before the coming dawn

 

more haste – less speed

the minutes stretch out

racked in terrible instance

tortured in the passing


the throbbing mechanism

of desire

the beatings of fleshy drums

pulse off into nowhere

on and on

and on


the cycle persists

through the dim morning

cold grey light

seeping gently in

through empty windows

framing the silence

with spine chill

and frozen sap

another day of coffin nails

and cellophane smiles

of sleeping lovers

faraway in time


there are three

great mysteries

life, love and death

and they compass all

 

our little knowledge

borne like jewels

is of no advantage

in the face of the unknown


deep in the heart of the sun

the sound of tiny hammers

beating on golden anvils

forged in the fragility of being

ring in a single wavering note


they are pounding out our lives

with the finest of intentions

but I cling to that great curve

with my suicide pants

bunched around my ankles

and my arse hanging in the wind

 

I long ago abandoned

any pretense of modesty

and my protestations of innocence

sound ironic in the circumstances

all I seek in this theatre of distraction

is the instant gratification of minor vices

and the reassurance that I am good people

despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary


6 August 2020

Fungaloid (Green Mind Edit)

























travel me
unravel me
baffle me
turn me out
fix me with a fungal crown
pump it in
pour it out
rub it on
inhale – exhale
spark it up
snuff it out
skin it back
tear it down
anoint my head
with manna from heaven
spike me upward
drag me down
ball my lightning
take me under
turn me on
turn me around

innovate
with my confusion
make me whole
if not holy
bake me outside
in the sun

now and then
I’m a supernova
I’m a lightning strike
an atomic bomb
the Empire State
and the monster Kong
I’m a gushing torrent
a tidal wave
I’m a rattle snake
with a diamond back
I’m the seventh son
I’m a maniac


5 August 2020

Odysseus


I copped me the full dose     and licked the wrapper too     I ramped up the mandy     and downed it with cheap wine     that shit gets complicated     but I don’t seem to mind     it fit me real snug    just like my birthday suit    it was christmas in july    did everything it should     it may be forbidden      but every now and then    it does a little good

got the crank bugs     something chronic     my skin was crawling    with electrical potential    I was jammin’ in a hard place     but that was alright    I’m a lean machine     and I got the numbers     stashed beneath the hood

I was unfolding     into something linear     straight ahead clean    wrapped in a bundle     tighter than my ball sack     and delivered at light speed     I was all jelly bone     and knee tremble    slick with anticipation    surfing in the air      on the cusp of complete delusion    tomorrow  was another  creosote sundae     but the night belonged to me