stones

 now is the time for gathering stones     slay a tyrant or two in the name of freedom      cracked skulls and broken bones   are the price we pay    for disobedience     but in this black economy     only troubles are free

my heart is emptied out      my hands are loaded with bricks      there’s  riot going on inside my head     a revolution on my doorstep      someone fetch a doctor     I’m haemorrhaging violent potential

maybe I’m sick from being locked in       or crazy resentful of being shut out     I need a lover to paint my garlands blue    this ring of roses is slowly choking me      so come share my cup     it could be our last     we’ll dance together one more time    and draw lots for the first stone cast

monsters

 

someone just walked across my grave       maybe they poured a libation on my stone     maybe they just stamped the dirt down     I have to manage my infestation     perhaps I need to up my dose     I hear blades being sharpened    did they find me?    how did they find me?      plots are being hatched that will never reach fruition       these are the  conspirators of an idiot nation        familiar monsters with blood in their eyes

it’s unwise to get foolish at this stage of play    but I have big feet    and clumsy ambitions       all my mirrors vacillate between repulsion and adoration       there’s little there that’s of comfort to me     so I avert my eyes    when I get low      I get high      all I seek is equilibrium     a place to lay my head      and some respite from the monsters

but  it’s not the monsters that offend me    it’s the people who make them       the monsters aren’t  so scary      if you speak the lingo       but their masters possess a murderous reflex and sharp teeth     they have shark like ferocity      and no feelings at all        

empties

 

I might have slept quite peacefully

I simply cannot tell

I may have slipped off gently

on the silky road to hell

 

in the absence of light

some of us take fright

the dark is infested by bogey men

some of them are black as sin

and others pearly white

 

there are countless tribulations

playing on my mind

there are phantoms in those shadows

both ruthless and unkind

 

this is a time of pestilence

and sorrow

a time of fear and pain

you might purge that fear

with fiery drink

but the memories shall remain

Fleabag

 

I’ve seen your bubonic lymph nodes     and your ripper smile   you’ve gone fleabag      and I won’t touch your unclean things       not at these rates       so ring your parish bell     and  roll out your dead         we’ll cart them off to the knacker’s yard        just don’t touch their skin      you’ll catch the dread apprehension from a dead man’s skin

and don’t you lay in a dead man’s bed     there are critters nestled there between those  sheets     that  will bleed you dry    and fill your lungs with broken glass    that’s a gasping wheezing death      a fish out of water    drowning in air    

flesh of my flesh     flowering corruption     what malignant monsters lurk within?      I got the saint vitus itch from a reckless encounter      at an afternoon séance        my death has been scheduled       for a month on sunday   I was lucky to get the slot     it’s their busiest time

listen to the Creature EP

emperor of dystopia

disinfect me a postcard         issue me a missive        I can’t reach you           on this line           and I have no means of transportation            venomous snipers      nest in my shoes   but I have other shoes    and sometimes   I walk         and sometimes      I crawl        and sometimes      I don’t do anything at all             I’m not elastic enough       for a life in limbo       treading  water      dreading  time     I’m cutting out    for an alternative reality   where I’m the emperor of dystopia        the last living giant    on a planet filled with pygmies        our world is dying now       please help us knit a new one       before we run out of wool