West End

the skag palaces
and liquor dungeons
of my youth
are now gastro pubs
and organic eateries
but the streets
are the same
there's a score
on every corner
flesh or drug
just name your tune
and some cunt
will dance to it
.

The Final Bulletin

Glad Rag
and
Mouse Trap
were here for a while
they just came by
to ring my bell
and drink my tea
they had cloth and candles
and were all kitted out
for the final big bulletin
the news was sadly
postponed indefinitely
nothing will happen
during prime time
no-one will stem
the systematic
appropriation
of the factual
all elected officers
will report to mommy
there’s been a spill
much milk was shed
some were crying
others laughed
a mixed bag
of metaphors
escaped into the crowd
Glad Rag and Mouse Trap
were first among them
.

Shades

Rab was wearing his cheap sun glasses. He was always wearing dark glasses. He claimed he was photo-sensitive, but he just didn't want any cunt tae see his eyes. They say the eyes are the windows of the soul and that cunt had no soul; but he had Mo. I'd have given my own soul tae be with Mo.

"Nah Johnny, Maureen will do her dinger if I'm late hame again."

"One wee drink cannae dae nae hairm Rab. We'll just be a minute."

"Aye, and if she finds oot ah was drinkin..."

"Who's goany tell her like? C'mon, one wee drink."

Rab relented, I knew he would. Nae alky can refuse free drink. Rab had it bad. The doctor had warned him that he was drinking himself into an early grave, but that wasn't deterrent enough for Rab. You'd think the thought of losing Mo might inspire him, but he took her for granted. He always had. She had carried him for twenty years or more. The cunt had never done a day’s work in his life. Rab just lurched fae one crisis tae the next while Mo skivvied for him; picking up his broken pieces and tending his wounds.

Maureen was a beautiful woman and I had loved her from afar since Rab first introduced us two decades before. We were best mates Rab and I. We still were, as far as Rab was concerned, but I watched him drain the soul from that woman and I wished him gone.

"Another pint Rab?" - we'd had four already.

"No thanks Johnny - ah've got tae head hame. Maureen will be worried..."

"One mair for the road then - one last pint - then we go."

"Maureen will freak if she smells the drink oan me."

"Get some mints oan the way home - and for fucks sake dinnae tell her I was buying - I'll never hear the end of it."

"I widnae grass ye up Johnny - we're mates, right?"

"Aye, we're mates Rab."

.

Drenched

I lost another lover

from standing in the rain

I leached the colour out of her

and flushed her down the drain

I saw the whole thing coming

I recognised the signs

she had some changes planned

when I read between the lines

there's no explaining some things

and there are some things best unspoken

like the crooked words that justify

the promises I've broken

Universal

Imagine a universe too big for gods. Where the angels are heretic and the saints are junkie hookers. You're getting the size of it. Bigger than a breadbox, but perhaps smaller than the human soul. Something large, but finite.

What were you betting on? Reincarnation? Resurrection? Did you opt for those desolate mansions and the companionship of ghosts? Perhaps you sought comfort from the cool indifference of the merciless universal? Where will we be when our benefactor finally calls our number? Would we even understand the answer - if we were ever shown?

.

Casey Jones

down between
the railway tracks
amidst the newts
and the sticklebacks
dead monuments
to industrial might
gather shadows
deep as night

in the kingdom
of heavy rust
where empires bloomed
then turned to dust
the bindlestiffs
and feral types
come out to play
in the dread of night
only to fade away once more
before the breaking day

there are ghosts
they boast
in these old yards
in shallow graves
that no-one guards
where evil deeds
lie undiscovered
beneath the weeds
where their cries
were smothered
.

Monkey Business

some slipped away    incognito   others turned sour    their cream had curdled    I don't give a fuck     I had a good time     I got my own     monkey business     and a boneyard     for my bygones     what's buried there       is buried real deep      and locked up tight         so it don't bring me down       I live in the now       it's the only space left me       and I like to make hay       while the sun still shines

Solitary

the threat of silence eternal
will not drive me
into the arms
of honorific whores
who perform gratis
acts of quiet desperation
in the hopeless quest
for something more substantial
.
I'm a solitary instrument
who keeps his own council
I'll never impart my sorry tale
to another living soul
I buried my burdens deep
but I watch them all the while
for there are promises I keep
and promises I deny
.

Daisies

them trombone dildos     are masked and ready    they got the swing   that don’t mean a thing    they’re just grateful    for the company      in their jism schism     there’s rhythm    in their method      and they play real music      for the nectar sockets    in a dance best performed      on the horizontal plane     or bent over double      bareback for your trouble    in unholy carnal daisy chains    necessities children     have no need of names    just a stranger’s hand    with a loving touch    and they don’t mind paying   but not too much           

Hangover

we’re running low on drinks

this party’s hit the doldrums

and as the morning sinks

we godless frozen forms

pitch headlong into ashtrays

and empty bottles counted

then recycled in the telling

like the evidence that’s mounted

in the stories you’ve been selling

so paint me black in tales of woe

and fabricate the reason

to justify the fatal blow

and your final act of treason

.