Meander

Meander
Perhaps it’s time to stop living up there and
Time to start living down here
In the sweat, in the grind
With narrow thoughts, constrained brains

Looking at the smaller picture, or no picture at all
A blank canvas and a concrete wall
Grey plaster, dull brick, utilitarian
Built just to hold up the roof

To box you in and shut out the sky
The light, the air
Everything that’s outside that reminds you
That stirs in you that final hope

That quietened voice, whispering gently
Salacious rumours of another world,
Another way
Shut it out, take the pill

My mind meanders, traipses
Skitters, skips and dances
Through fields and valleys
Flys away at the first stirring of boredom

So brick us in, dig it deep
Throw on the dirt and tighten the shackles
Polish that suit, buff those shoes
It doesn’t pay to think and pay is the way of the world

Convalescence

The sentimentalist, the romantic, the poet
They are all dead, they wandered into streams, their pockets laden with smooth stones
They leapt in front of the locomotive, they stood atop the tallest building,
Waiting for someone to cry out from below
In the silence, in that brief moment of clarity as they stepped towards the edge,
They felt more alive than they ever had and grimly smiled to themselves
As the irony drizzled over their pallet and the pavement rose up to meet them

For this is not their world
This is no place for open hearts or well chosen words
This is a land of the bold, brazen and arrogant
Deceit is a way of life and the others wear the mask so well
Yet it falls from my face, exposing a soft smile and kind eyes
ripe and ready for the other’s knives

So I’ll remain here, clinging to the gaps in the concrete
On all fours, with my fingers bloody and raw, forced in
And gripping to the only solid thing that I know
As she stands over me and whispers in that sickly sweet tone
Words which have never comforted any man, drenched in sugar as they may be

I’m by the river, collecting pebbles and looking down as it trickles past
Without moving my lips I scream a silent tribute to the ones who went before
As another brick breaks across my back and my skin shatters
Twist the knife, I’ll grab the hilt of this metaphor and look into your opalescent eyes as my heart ruptures

Wash your hands in this river as I drift along

The Art Of The Liberal

This is something that only the feline appreciate
How far do we go to set out, throwdown
Everytime I die I see the yellow tint
An eye that bleeds only for silver
Raw and tender to the touch of
Time on scarves, wrapped tight
On the fist of your father
Feelings churn, it’s over, the hope
The pain of generations lost
How many times do we throw down the anchor
Everytime I appreciate your palm on my face
Lies of another man feed on us
Inside your yellow eyes you choke
Before I scream I touch your ear, it’s cold
Empirical, yet our nation falls, our body
Rise, it’s a phallic symbol
And now the yellow, and silver, is all that remains
Lies

Fail

Empires, funeral pyres
Both fall under flames
This ends, begins
Once more, it’s the same
We die, I cry
Break rhythm, this is contrived
A smile creeps over your beak
Heat on the skin as It cracks
Under the weight of the seed prodigy
A leaf on my back nicks the skin
Peace, land and bread, no hallucinogens
This is straight edge, timber plank
We cry and the glass shatters
A mirror that reflects in negative tones
We’re in this desire, a stream
Flanking left and right before the Madonna
Dark veil of the convent, coven, draped across
The altar, consummated, priest outraged
Revolutions flames burn only where there
Is not fire, a life lost over the
Heart’s of fifteen men, a family erased
The hand of God, the body of parliament
The child of industry, the destitute family
Strings pulled, they all fail
For all’s quiet on your front
Heroine needles and small children
Mislead in the heat of a lamb’s passion
A countryside hill and your family, Bolshevism
It’s all over now, you fail

We Wake Now

I feel secure in your shadow now
Isn’t this how it’s always been?
A frail world collapses, we knew this
Pride, like hope, is merely an illusion

Choking, retching
Choke the wretch
I’m all out of prayers now
Kneeling never got me anywhere
Is it odd or sinister that
As a man awaits execution
He assumes the same position
As one asking for holy aid
Our Lord the executioner
We wake now

Mankind’s obstacle in this century
Is to come to terms with the
Knowledge that God is dead
Or no longer cares, either way
We are alone in this universe

Kill this representation of hope
Slice the symbol of our struggle
Worship everybody, worship nobody
Take control of your life, strong man

When metaphors are meaningless
There truly is nothing left

Time

It’s ten years today since
You last felt awake
How many days must you seize
How many leaps of faith

Faith, fate and other illusions
Taunt and needle, grinding you down
Far quicker than those bastards who
You swore would never get to you

If you snatch victory from the jaws of defeat
If you seize a day, or a spear, and wield it as a weapon
Where does that really get you when
No survivors set the world on fire

You’re a rodent, we’re all rats
And we’re racing, on rails
Towards our final day
Sit down, feel the grass, sniff the daisies
While you still can, before you’re pushing them up

Elegance

Familiar structures rise, despised
But always growing, evolving, creating
Environments consistently uninspired and uniform
Yet comforting in their monotony

She sits, at the desk, by the door
Near the window, with a mirror
Daubing the thin paint across her narrow lips
She will taste flesh tonight, as her pores fill with dust

She bought it, she’s worth it
He buys it, the best a man can get
He stands, it strokes across his chin
A thin line of bare skin shines through

Their eyes meet, finding a mate at the fifth time of asking
Wandering, tracing, grinding across each other’s frames
His breath hot in her ears, her hand in his
Montague and Capulet, or a new kind of whore, no one ever wins

The facade falls
The silk and lace lay on the floor
The mask hangs nonchalantly off the bed post
Now we see what sits beneath it all

Lies, smoke, mirrors and a young man’s heart
All crashing, cracking, crushed under foot
Stripped bare, bones and hair
The sweat sticks to the skin, it begins

Life bursts forth from busy lips
The midwife sighs, it begins

Stay Your Own Road

There has never been as good a time as this

There will never be a better place than now

Yet, for the life of me, I can’t think how

To begin, there are no words, just the crackling of lungs

 

Maybe, sweetheart, you’re all just a little too used to the cliche

Or perhaps, words will always fail where swords once talked

Where we once had knights, we now have empty days

I stand exhausted, without moving a muscle

 

So sit there preening, polishing, blushing

See what good it does you, see what good it does any of us

When push comes to shove and shit splatters over the fan

What do any of us have except for ourselves, our fragile lumps of flesh

 

We’re all desensitized, deaf and dumb.

We’re poetic and lack etiquette and this is our lot

The fact is, sweetheart, you’ve heard every single word

I could muster, you’ve felt every emotion before

 

There is nothing else to say or to do

When language fails us and grand gestures are as dead

As we are soon to be, how do we seize the day

Do we just stay our own road

As the tarmac meets the horizon 

Keep Left

Racehorse can’t race a course backward
Ever seen a horse act awkward?
I grip on and work with your words
But they can’t sate me, can’t hold me

Loving you is like cutting glass
The sparks and lights are blinding
But make a mistake and you’re sliced in half

The vodka and pills numb the razor
So you can’t feel it
But I can, and I don’t know
How much more patience I have for this game

If death cures the disease
Known as life then what is this
Is your hollow gift a prize or punishment
Coldly, I ask myself should we cherish death

As my arms grow stronger they embrace
The rose you left wilting on my chest
The beat, the tremor, silenced as you draw closer
As life draws close to it’s end

It’ll make your heart beat that little bit faster
It’ll make your blood run that little bit colder
Keep left, keep it going long down the line
The blood runs thinner this time

Awaken and hold this flower
Cast out and cast down, hollowed out
And unhallowed, falling further from grace
But closer to the core of your self

Come round and scream
Confused, retching, like this is
New, the first time you’ve felt this way
I’m tired, i’m done, are you?

Pray the Angels

I’m praying for the weak,
They’ve found another martyr,
And the blood is screaming through the floor
Hell, it’s a shame that life is too tame,
I’ll liven it up with a hint of white noise

As the skin around your eyes rots and falls from your face
The smell of burning comes shrieking into life
Retching in the darkness, wires run farther into the grave
Revenge, one cold, white male
Strafing, darkening, we learn from such an early age

The widow suffocates and, crawling towards the door
The flames run higher, embracing weakness
You lay in it’s thrall
Annihilation, paving a path so weak it’ll crumble under my weight
And where will I lay then, some dark place with nothing but faith in fists
And the light reflected from my blade

You’re dripping piss into the soil
Far from the depths of suicide
I hold up your face and look into those eyes
Pulsing, dimming, shuddering out the lies

I’m praying for the weak,
They’ve found another martyr,
And the blood is screaming through the ground
Hell its a shame that life is too tame,
I’ll liven it up with a hint of white noise
I’m dreaming