houdini

 

here I am again        titanic in proportion       sinking like stone      sweet jesus show some mercy     and bring me back down          I've been on a death trip for a week       a week of bloody tears stinging my eyes     a week of hound dogs on my heels      and that’s a rough ride      for a man in my condition        I have criminal juice boiling black inside of me        I've been rendered meat       hung up on butcher's hooks       and pounded into pulp       slaughtered by my memories        I  can’t escape my memories       I’m shackled by the past      no longer cast as human       I'm just a fraction of a man        staring into dark infinity      my cup is filled with ghosts       I sup it's bitter poison        a fermented  blend of treason      concocted from regret and recrimination         dear lord    I need a fix     to blow away my shrouds        to lift my psyche out of this    I never meant any harm  to anyone       but I'm a prisoner just the same         I'm the last man standing         there's-one else to blame

loup garou

 

I’m an old dog now            and just getting older           all the violence and insanity       has been bleached from my bones           time turns lions into lambs         and melts swords into plowshares           but I won't be corralled       into some holding pen behind the abattoir                 I have the moon in my throat          and blood in my eyes               I could still squeeze out           one more explosion         one more bout of mania              to see me down the road

NSFW

 

they tried to straighten me out        the captains of industry         they wanted to scrape me clean       and strip me of autonomy       they said I was maladjusted        they had to save me from myself          they took down my particulars         and stowed me on the shelf        but I contracted  negativity        from the bullshit that they fed to me       there is no trace of dignity      in their cruel economy        I'm just another victim of industrial disease      I'm a pile of lazy bones        redundant and ill at ease

 

real poets fire blank verse

 

dead horses saddled and flogged         the symbol of futility       ideographs of broken people      damaged and confused              forty years in the harness      dragging for the man      at the end of my bloody tether       I pulled a smash and grab        I stole an ounce of freedom           if only in my head       I took to scrawling words        to score some gravy with my bread         

those first were words ugly       but beautiful just the same        so I rearranged their order          and gave them different names       some they say there's madness in my method       that I have a turn of phrase       but from where I stir the pot        all words look the same        there is no magic incantation       no happy ever after          I may as well tear up those words       and post them down the crapper

hear my voice: "Dagger".

gently turn the tides

 

I ebb and flow         a creature born of circumstance        I apply strictly crooked reasoning         to this strictly crooked world                  I chart the geometry of being          deploying instruments         of my own design           it's an esoteric task       but mine is a ministry          a ministry of one         I'd love to touch the sun              with my banner fully unfurled      but for the moment     I'm consigned to ebb and flow       on the gently turning tide  

I ebb and flow         a captive of coincidence             I speak when I'm spoken to         this is no time for clever  rhetoric               they can lock you up        for speaking too loud       so I mind my own business        and mark my own time        worldly concerns are best left for those          who will carve a new paradigm       from the flotsam of the old        but in the meantime          I simply ebb and flow      while the tide gently turns