the beautiful life

 sometimes it takes an age       for the penny to finally drop     it seems I was the last to know      that I carry the weather in my head        and can only make hay       when the sun shines        this life is short        and that's a fact       there will be pain     you can count on that       I got the call up        to become a believer       but their words are just moonshine     for the gullible and feeble     I could appoint a personal saviour       or simply save myself     and do the world a favour      I might become a human being        or go on toiling as a beast       without ever seeing      that the beautiful life     is the only life worth living

 

valediction

 I fashioned this cruel distemper        from accursed fleshy instruments     and dark intentions        I bit the hand that bled me        and poisoned the well behind me       it’s too late to throw a blanket on my grave          I’m frozen root and thorn        a few will sing my praises        many more will mark my passing             with revelry and scorn

I was the author of misfortune           I was callous and unkind         I was a drunkard and a lecher        a bloody handed sinner         who left no stone untroubled       in the pursuit of a good time         I’m a criminal by nature        and now I have been caught         so commend me to the cold dark earth        without a second thought

13

the thirteenth unlucky apostle     was the bastard son     of a bastard son     and when the lights went out      he was nowhere to be found      no-one knows his name      but I’ve seen his face     I have his number     he’s a little less than holy       but more profound than some      he called himself a drinking man     and there was a certain kudos in that        among the poor and the derelict       and why not?      what else is there to do    here in the city of pain?      he was hard boiled and numb      his patter was filled with blood       but he sometimes pissed the bed     and he reeked of booze and fear     when asked about his friends      he could not recall their names       I think perhaps he lied     he may have been ashamed 

psychiatry

 they altered my prescription          to keep pace with the times       they want to pin me down       to sanitize my mind      but I can't get with that       I'd rather be considered crazy      than join the living dead       who serve their damned machinery            they've devised an inquisition        to cure me of insanity        they say that chemical infusions      will bring me to reality     but  they just want to steal my high       and send me to work in a factory

 

crazy love

so much for easy lovers      who will not heed the call      who measure out necessities       because they’re afraid to fall      I have loved  as others    yes   but I had crazy love     even when it seemed futile      I had the crazy love     and in the face of hate      I dished out crazy love      when I had the hard edge on       and my words were sharp as knives       I did not ration my feelings      I killed for crazy love     and I'll die for crazy love      if you want me to