death squads

 

your narrative is a dud         a huge disappointment         you should scrub it clean         and hang it out  with your dirty sheets        bleached for sunday       soiled again by monday       you can try again      if you dare        or you can conserve your heat         before you die of exhaustion          there are death squads         lurking behind your TV        that’s a bargain get out        combat the cost of living        with a cheap and cheerful funeral plan       because you are fading episodically        dying by degrees        the gravity of your armchair        the inertia of habit          your midlife anticlimax         has you on your knees  

dreamer

 

they say that fortune favours the bold         that quiet courage wins wars          but that only love can conquer all    

I’m told pride comes before a fall      that the harder they come        the louder they bawl

I tell you that death lurks        right there in your living room        where vicarious thrills          are no thrill at all

someone once told me that life is a dream       so where does that leave me?        am I the dreamer?          or am I merely the dream?     

 

puddles

 

sticky black puddles radiate       where unknown gods baptize       soft soothing words feather weight        in luxurious  and soft velvet sighs        on clouds of expelled opiate         to recombine and synthesize        soothing songs in tones sedate        tell beautiful and welcome lies

woody

 

woody was an artist       he stole his supplies       from the council depot          he said he knew the score     he sketched it out for me       with red paint       and an old tooth brush      he said life was bloody        as was death       and that the old world had to die         to make room for the new       I asked him what the new world would be like     “like new”     he answered     and walked away knowingly        woody was heavily charismatic       he’d never been called an arsehole

when he’d gone I took the opportunity to scope out his latest work        it was a murderous apocalypse of a painting         it was still wet       and I got some red on my fingers        I left my incriminating prints all over the death of the old world         or was it the birth of the new?       I was a criminal in the both worlds      it seemed         this and the next

 *painting by Picasso

jack the lad

 some moments live with you       some moments linger on     like that first morning        our great false dawn       when I tipped head first into your coffee cup and dissolved    sweetly       later    looking back    we’d call it love at first sight       we had talked all night       I loved the sound of your voice       and mine       

but the mechanisms of disclosure       are often misleading       you played the angel of mercy        and I the prince of thieves       there were few flies on me        I was keen as a blade     I pulled a stroke now and then       coz I loved a spot of gravy        when there was gravy to be had       

from here to there       wasn’t so far         but from there to here      I spent some agonising hours           I bled out between your sheets      what’s that the symbol of?        a pattern of self denial?         or some form fatalistic love?        I was only seventeen        and I could touch the sky      but my hope and my despair        walked together       hand in glove 

time has dried our eyes       you moved on       and so did I      I’m a creature of habit        my life is an open book       you’ve read this one before        with the turning of each page       I gradually metamorphosed      into the ebb and flow

now I crack with the dawn       to bark with the crows     it’s an angular song      with no melody        but it sounds my name       and suits my clothes       I’ve been on the high serenity        since I busted the final taboo      I’ve lived long enough now to perfect my illusion      you could call me a modern man       but I have standards to uphold        

they say that we only see       just what we want to see         well    I’ve seen enough to know          and know enough to hold my peace        I opted for peace I didn’t like the power dynamic        that some people wanted to cut from my cliché      I’m a rarefied species         the once in a blood red moon            I’m the one who cheated life         through the needle and the spoon