Zombie King

 it calls for an extra dose

on those pale mornings

when my remnant dreams

still cling as shrouds

to another me

in some other world

and the cold grey sun

s – e – e – p – s

little shards of heaven

to prick my sleepless eyes

 

I’m as tired as an old joke

told in a funeral parlour

I feel like a dirty burlap sack

full of ossuary bones

I’m the prolapsed organ

they dare not resuscitate

and quite symptomatic

of a broader demographic

of disenchanted and careless

mercenary vagabonds

 

I could be zombie king

if I so desired

complete with

chocolate toolbox

the amnesia haze

and four flat tires

so give me the reds

give me the blues

give me the yellows

and the white ones too

patch me to that big linear zero

and fill my cranium with soup

we’ll have no thought here

no cognitive assemblage

is necessary

I sense the world

through my arsehole

and its diarrhoea burn

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

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

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

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