Wednesday, 25 April 2012

Mostly Insignificant

Born on the full moon,
The summer of eighty-eight;
Being a baby is always easy,
No value no worth:
His mother even leaves, see. Now
Just keep pounding the street,
He lives on his feet
Living for his soul
His heart, trying to make ends meet;
And he can play around,
But he knows where it lies,
Study the man but you wont find the ties;
A free man, no body,
He lives and he dies.


Incandescent soul, getting brighter and brighter
As you burn my toes with the flame;
Lighter and lighter and
Higher and higher,
As my spirit slips from within this frame.

I peel off the husk of a man misspelt
To be the tumbling Autumn leaf;
Winding through this windy world
I become the wind
In all its majestic invisible relief.

Behind the times the shadow sits,
Dark and dim, standing out like a light,
Against this culture, dark and grim;
A house full of empty heads, and no phone in,
The last surviving in the endless night.

Incandescent soul, getting brighter and brighter;
On scorched earth I stand
In deserts; where no shadows can hide,
And each life sits, waiting for the wind,
Just a grain of sand.

Friday, 20 April 2012

My Faith's On Me

Your rhetoric is pathetic
Leading people blind, blinkered, and blindfolded,
Spawning evil in insolence and ignorance;
You want to pray to a god,
That don't even heed its people,
Sitting on a throne in buildings unequaled,
While the poor man, uneducated and feeble,
Follows the tales in the hope that its real;
Sitting in the slums, he gave his last penny
To a preacher,
Sitting in his nice house, nice car on the drive,
Spouting the bullshit and stealing from the weak
To thrive.
Does your god keep the evil
Well and alive
In the story books you were read as a child;
Did you sit these characters next to Winnie the pooh?
Fuck no! Because they seen weakness in you
To exploit blind faith
And fear and fallacy,
Now you sit there regurgitating your
Hollow hypocrisy;
Why can't you open your eyes
And see whats true,
That there's no afterlife,
Like in your book's scare tactics:
Your jumping at boo!
Why can't you live
Like this life is just billions of you,
No matter who these people:
Want whats right;
Yet instead we have heads
Getting filled with this shite,
You say we are all brothers
Then why aren't we tight,
A unity, looking after each other,
Striving for whats right;
It ain't heaven and hell
Its here and now,
So stand together
For the what and how,
Fuck all the bullshit
They try to feed us all,
Throw them to the street
Its time to stand tall.

Wednesday, 18 April 2012

Lose The Pack (Before You Fall On Your Back)

Boeing seven-three-seven smile,
House-fly lips
Talking against clean glass;
Graffiti stained flesh
The collage of bombs and pieces
From years past by,
The little kid at the family dinner,
Just home from the pantomime.

Doing a Downs Syndrome dance,
Just going on and on;
Bailing from the sea bed
In a thunderstorm.
Done like a war in a far off land,
Covered by a left-wing media;
It was never in hand
And always doomed.

A hedgehog caught out
Next to a foot,
Ball up, fetal,
Stay put, no spikes to see you right!
Boeing seven-three-seven smile;
Where's the wings,
Its time to fly, live a life
Of all things!

Sunday, 15 April 2012

The Dead Bodies of the Grapevine Slayers

We stepped into the bullet-riddled Ford,
Pulled ourselves along Railroad Avenue;
Bullet hole dead, I was,
And the same for you too.

Death has no words in life,
Our dead eyes couldn't see it;
Public enemies, number one;
But in death we couldn't keep it.

Never dead together,
And the Parker's wouldn't have had it;
The robbery and murder
Was always way of habit.

At 9.15 the bullets rained as snow,
On that day of our death.
I would've told you then;
But I didn't have the breath.

I've gone away, our bodies apart,
Into the nothingness after life;
Chestnut and Elizabeth
Could never have been man and wife.

Sweet Ferguson, though in love,
Was married and never divorced him;
And the life with Chestnut
Was always going to end

As it started,
It was
And for ever will be;
A tale macabre and grim.

Saturday, 14 April 2012

Closer, I Can Smell

All that glistens isn't gold,
Came those snowflake eyes,
And the look primed to go;
Don't guild your cottage,
Paint it with lies.

With freedom comes responsibility,
Understand my love;
Make it known, X, Y, Z;
Those underneath,
Those above.

People speak such a lovely shade,
Ride white horses,
And top their towers with a balustrade;
And a net
For the day they fall down.

I see past your words,
Like a deer through the trees;
I don't pigeon-chest this life
Or build myself up,
Because we start and end on our knees.

Friday, 13 April 2012

The Mind Made Up It's Mind

They fill my legs,
Clambering from everywhere
I can't see;
I only notice when they are there,
Under my skin,
Flat, round,
Spidery things;
En masse and slowly filling me.
They will come to killing me,
Feeding on my soul,
I know they can watch;
But I don't know why.
Can they communicate,
Are they talking about me.
Even if they could speak to me
I'd kill them still.
They're filling me up,
If they are even real.

Thursday, 12 April 2012

Don't Paint Us Black (When We Are All)

Black marked leaving black prints,
The tar you brushed me with,
Scrutinise the looking-glass,
Through your dark black tints.

The tar black brush,
Brushed the black on me;
But inside my soul as light as the sun,
My smile as bright as the day.

Your tar black brush
Wont paint me down,
Only baste my spirit, my skin
Thickens; and your time runs thin.

Black marked leaving black prints,
Your tar black paint fueling fire;
And the love red blood
That I breath, live and speak in

Will tar my brush
And stain your flesh,
Flood your lungs,
Burn your soul.

Your tar black brush cant brush away
My beauty and my blood:
Thicker than tar, tremendously strong;
I will always beat you down.

Your tar black brush can't blacken the dawn,
When we will beat you down,
Our souls as light as the sun,
And in our blood, you'll drown.

Memoirs En Masse

Another day of dust blown out
Into the dank dark night,
And in my mellow mind at ease,
Memories form from the shadows of leaves
Resting in the trees, drawing
Notice, twitching in the breeze.
The zephers evoke a zoo of zombies
From within times zeitgeist graves;
In these impeccably innovated irreplaceable images
Invented and installed in-place
Of something quite different altogether,
I see the most beautiful and best,
Brilliant and buxom, bar none.
The heavy dust of another
Dank dark day blown out,
Out into the truthful night
Where all is admitted,
Where there is no light.

Wednesday, 11 April 2012

To Die A Million Deaths

I am a red Dutch Lily,
Or a moonlit Datura.
Just a seed, so plant me;
Lay me in a trough of earth,
Leave her nurture me
And watch me truly grow.

I am a seed, rightful
To be sown back,
Back into my mother womb;
Feed this germ,
Bring it forward, And
Birth this embryo.

Bury me, lets
Decay this rancid husk,
Free this fetus life
From the dead growth
Of what this world has
Weighed upon me.

I am a red Bleeding Heart,
Or a infinitely white Rose.
Just a seed, just a seed;
Just a seed, plant me;
Lay me in a trough of earth,
Watch me grow.