I like the view from here
I can see the world
even with eyes closed my dreams are a vision
I like the view from here
she's bent to the toil
exposing too much
I like the view from here
Earth and sky unite
horizons are reached
I like the view from here
innocence is clumsy
a father knows best
I like the view from here
it's the first time
not for her, for me
I like the view from here
her skirt is short
her legs are long
I like the view from here
I can stand now
blurred images long gone
I like the view from here
it's not so far down
unless you fall
I like the view from here
more than back-lit
she's open and honest
I like the view from here
standing alone
a rain shower does not deter
I like the view from here
I could be important
if I could take me more serious
I like the view from here
the tether is light
broken like gossamer
I like the view from here
loneliness exists
but it's not a disease
I like the view from here
words that tumble
not so secret anymore
I like the view from here
distance is nothing
time immaterial
I like the view from here
errors in the past
hindsight is a wonderful thing
I like the view from here.
Friday, July 27, 2012
Monday, July 16, 2012
Beauty is skin deep
as if beyond that a hideous beast lurks just waiting to take form
where a habit becomes the creature
a monkey that won't be shook loose no matter how long you stay from it's want
with talons long and dug through sinew to the very substance that makes up the soul
a conscience
a being.
How it's temptation won't be thwarted
like Devils to a Saint
all lies of joy and satisfaction, that even the simple know won't last beyond expense
where cost is borne on Earth as it might be in the here-after if death is not as final as some might hope.
Where I might wander in darkness
or dwell boiling out sweat in a room turned red
whose walls run with the activity that goes on beyond
that I can only know as fantasy, and wish to partake of when my turn comes
for my turn will come
as promised
unless like much else these words are empty
like the devils would wish my life to be without that which they spruik
they the barkers of the unthinkable
of a return to worlds of ago
and even worlds deeper than those I dared to entertain
where they might force me to ruin
to a place not suitable for man
somewhere the end lurks close by
around the next corner
in the next drink
or in an encounter too costly to face.
as if beyond that a hideous beast lurks just waiting to take form
where a habit becomes the creature
a monkey that won't be shook loose no matter how long you stay from it's want
with talons long and dug through sinew to the very substance that makes up the soul
a conscience
a being.
How it's temptation won't be thwarted
like Devils to a Saint
all lies of joy and satisfaction, that even the simple know won't last beyond expense
where cost is borne on Earth as it might be in the here-after if death is not as final as some might hope.
Where I might wander in darkness
or dwell boiling out sweat in a room turned red
whose walls run with the activity that goes on beyond
that I can only know as fantasy, and wish to partake of when my turn comes
for my turn will come
as promised
unless like much else these words are empty
like the devils would wish my life to be without that which they spruik
they the barkers of the unthinkable
of a return to worlds of ago
and even worlds deeper than those I dared to entertain
where they might force me to ruin
to a place not suitable for man
somewhere the end lurks close by
around the next corner
in the next drink
or in an encounter too costly to face.
Friday, October 28, 2011
Her tender loins so fine and tanned
my gentle touch the trembling hand
a warming breeze, the scented wind
with knees apart I'd squeeze right in.
Eyes closed dreaming you're feeling so proud
the climax that moves you to scream out loud
juices that douse the penetrating heat
that part that you swallow the best of me
wrapped as I am in that part of you
when we're together it's like I always knew.
I feed off your energy as you thaw from my heat
with eyes locked and crying there's no need to speak.
Youthful exuberance meets the jaded and scarred
that moment in time as we ride through the stars
I'd pluck dreams from a moon-beam to put in your hand
as the white-wash that is me pounds your flesh that is sand.
Watching you sleep the rise and the fall
I dare to wake you, to beg for more
you tired eyed and grinning, sighing my name
pliant and willing for more of the same.
If I had a zipper in my chest I'm sure my heart you'd steal
the friends I'd gathered round you'd turn to pigs so they could squeal
these balls of mine you'd chill 'til tears had filled my eyes
my tongue and lips, my gentle hands, would never touch your thighs.
Your pussy that seems so inviting has legs and a life its own
to split its fur and taste its life, I'd take my fill as I went down.
My stiff and aching muscles that fit your hand just right
a treasure trove both yours and mine hides an inch away from sight.
The spikes full of hate that fire up their veins
like memories of friends they'll never see again
makes distance and time too vast to bridge
the truth like sweat that beads on their lips.
Alarm bells unanswered scare life from the night
a cat among pigeons when the able take flight
footprints in sand that vanish in waves
you've all seen the sign that says "Jesus saves"???
How frail the victims mind
solitude with time to find
and end to meaning
what means the end
lies in haste that waste the friend.
Doors they've slammed shut to keep out your cold
the stare of sure eyes, what you're told, "We've been told"
the unseen unending that leads to your door
in a life over-burdened that screamed out for more
in a world where your name became somewhere to hide
to the brink of extinction on the back of a lie.
Times when you felt surrounded by death
both those present and absent having trouble with their breath.
Rats in the nest so hide the young
take to flight on songs unsung.
Thanks unuttered from mouths uncluttered with feelings and without.
The silence yawns like St Peters gate
well used and worn and sworn to hate.
A favourite with favours
a saviour to savor
the messiah pariah
a whipping boy for you.
A whiplash smile and the scars you bear
hibernation
the wear and tear.
Drawn and quartered
fatted
slaughtered.
Feed the armies that march on a stomach
a stomach for war
the stench of gore
a hard-on for the feel of death
the climax on a final breath.
Peeled back and on debut
personal bloodletting in public view
your sins forgiven so forgive yourself.
It's never your fault you were too impressed.
Impressed upon, beyond impression
feelings inside beyond expression.
Monday, September 12, 2011
ROCK
I am not
that what you'd be
or need from me to be
simply cracked shell intact
handled without care or cause
hard black Hell yolks me 'til spent
I combine to be the whole of my waste
hiding myself behind palmed enchanted hands
gales of mystic chill that incise through fate's hope
simply dreaming other manners to use that which is not
mere manipulation of substance unknown 'til now
I would divine to see future from a riven past
to come before the hen of golden promise
risen upon that fountain we may call
as time calls for me to want to be
can I find a reply so perfect
defying reasoned to lie
shapeless words
ovum gorge
back to
ROCK
Against a wall of pastel brown
wearing tanned second skin
legs uncaressed
unmedicated ease
and below the gaze of daisies
so golden
so white
ambidextrous spooning of a Caesar salad into an expectant mouth
strains of Middle-Eastern rock in the warm lunch air
and my pen to the page
dirty plates of my own feast adorning my table/desk.
Far away a voice nudges "Here. Now"
the chilled water drowning lemon slices
entombed beneath the ice
though safe
away from invasive fingers and complete disdain
away from them in their spotlights that seemed to never dim
chewing nicotine dismissal like cheap lives
like early morning caffeine fixes
like the simple shuffle of facts.
She reclines high on a stool
high on the attention
high
and above my mighty
fingering invisible dollars, beckoning forth.
Further back into the wall
reflections
in light
to shade
light, shade
light, shade
light, shade
just a shade of light.
I am not
that what you'd be
or need from me to be
simply cracked shell intact
handled without care or cause
hard black Hell yolks me 'til spent
I combine to be the whole of my waste
hiding myself behind palmed enchanted hands
gales of mystic chill that incise through fate's hope
simply dreaming other manners to use that which is not
mere manipulation of substance unknown 'til now
I would divine to see future from a riven past
to come before the hen of golden promise
risen upon that fountain we may call
as time calls for me to want to be
can I find a reply so perfect
defying reasoned to lie
shapeless words
ovum gorge
back to
ROCK
Against a wall of pastel brown
wearing tanned second skin
legs uncaressed
unmedicated ease
and below the gaze of daisies
so golden
so white
ambidextrous spooning of a Caesar salad into an expectant mouth
strains of Middle-Eastern rock in the warm lunch air
and my pen to the page
dirty plates of my own feast adorning my table/desk.
Far away a voice nudges "Here. Now"
the chilled water drowning lemon slices
entombed beneath the ice
though safe
away from invasive fingers and complete disdain
away from them in their spotlights that seemed to never dim
chewing nicotine dismissal like cheap lives
like early morning caffeine fixes
like the simple shuffle of facts.
She reclines high on a stool
high on the attention
high
and above my mighty
fingering invisible dollars, beckoning forth.
Further back into the wall
reflections
in light
to shade
light, shade
light, shade
light, shade
just a shade of light.
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Lights, camera, wipers.
First, second, fourth, fifth
pedal to the metal, clutch and brake
high beam, low beam, no beam at all
red-line, seat adjust, driving gloves and shades.
Distinction high
distinction
indistinct emotion
affinity on cruise an empathetic over-drive.
Red light, green light, drunken amber flow
hand-brake, tail light, number-plate a name.
'L' plate a state of mind
'P' plate a stainless steel trap.
100, 120, $150 to the mile
150 miles to go.
Glove-box a shoe-box
goggle-box a stop-watch.
Fifth, third, second.
Right-hander, left-hander,
open minded back-hander.
Pit-stop, short-stop, a non-stop crotch-rot
ceaseless, peaceless, deceaseless in pieces.
White-line fever, a smartie-dreamer
ten thousand lights screaming a neon fever.
Footpaths of vacancy
double-clutch complacency
temporary insanity hacked a sacred cow.
"How and why"?
"When and where"?
"Because"!
"Look it's there"
Hill-climb on a dirt-track
a wrong way go back
Speed limit
black comet
bags full of last nights vomit
stenching toxic waste
a tribute to haste
and violence and crime
one day at a time this life of mine.
Windows down, windows up
doors open, doors shut
locked in, central locking
knees to chest to stop the knocking.
A door-bell ring
a petrol thing.
Shuffle third, fifth
burnt out spliff
metallic riff over boogie-boy croon.
In the rearview mirror the brainless passenger
hopeless motivator of the hopeless cause.
Personalised key-tag
name-tags a dog-tag
a black-bag with zipper holds a mothers pride and joy.
Full stop
parking spot
a quick hop to a quick shot
a big shot
a hot shot with a hot dot.
"Bag the buggy"
"What's the hurry"?
It cools the engine as it hums its thanks
these foreign tanks
long forgotten human shanks.
A crash course for a main course
a resource for a race horse
the artistry of the jockey
with a whip as a brush
a Madam Lush
the equine rush of a three horse flush.
Revs up
backs out
tyres squeal like a hero's shout.
Burn out victim a suburban crime
the truncheon swing and the yellowy eyes
the ice-age thawed to a watery grave
the man in motion
the time we save
for more of the same
the old, the new
taking rest-breaks
the smokers knew.
A fingered flying-vee to over crowded buses
ties and suits see short skirts, cotton gussets
lace stocking tops to bulging waists
the snoring ignorer we all hate.
"Tickets please"
"More please"
Open the glass and choke the breeze.
A car alone
handless phone
ET's long gone took the navigators flight.
The dogs bite became a maul
a liquid squall strokes the sanctums pane
blue line, black ink, anonymous name of the one deranged
Twisting through gorges wooded
I'm hooded
in a flesh ravine
with thoughts obscene
a milky-way highway
balls to body dream.
Forget the day and laze
and bathe
in the summer haze before the grey.
In a mane gone rank and file
the tortured while
blackened smile
incisors filed
a worlds beguiled with a hair-piece on skin
the secret knock for an in
and "Out you go"
an expressway phone
blue and for emergencies
my emergence priority.
"Social security" the lady smiled
we talked a while
second knuckle shine
the husbands grunt, the children's whine
over a burger and fires
pizza pie
wood-fired, oven-baked
garlic-bread crumbs flake on red and white cloth
I'm a butterfly to your moth
a dreamer to you schemer
the faithful to all disbelievers
a giver non-receiver
with a penchant for pubic floss
I lap your fruit you drain my loss.
Your pain at my world
I'm the man to your girl
were you woman we'd fuck
Lucked out, snuck in
shrugged shoulders free of sin.
"It's him".
A change of name to hide shame
on the back of fame
the back-door best friends game
that alcohol fuelled "They're all the same"
The lost time a drop in a sterile probe
psyche fused
blackness
darkened hatred shown
exhibited, gossiped, soap-opera'd away
follow the script
a postscript will say "Good riddance to lies"
an immortal dies to fan the flames of dwindling fires.
Wire rimmed frames focus a world to a blur
rock hard and deft as speeches slur.
Back seat
dead meat
short and sweet
a truncheon beat repeat.
she looked neat with blue back scrawl
no mid-western drawl.
A g-string wedgie creased her gates
find me here two beers too late
my liquid smile affixed with froth
a pig-bristle brush
an orange and green toed sloth
hanging from a tripod
toward biped with a beast inside.
In my bed
stroke my shaved head
grip my manhood tight
let your womanhood ooze and seep
and soak the seam
that fountainhead spring a maternal dream.
Money can't buy for you near death
white powder ride an opiate test.
Potatoes distilled in an age-old fashion
hours and hours of verbal, babbling passion
over leather bag the perfect mind
tears, phobias, comparisons left behind.
Stop the traffic
spread arms and fly
that tear I tap from the corner of your eye.
Fake fur for all access Too-tall Jones
falling yin-yang spiral with smile all alone
a passenger seat cum, touching burning flesh
I'm down to drown
tongue-tied filament caress.
The white gate to two-storied Heaven
the status-quo shuffle, the secret brethren
squashed between neighbours domestic and tragic
burning cheap incense and gulping down magic
the virgin white bug cannot ignore
the sight and sound of self-inflicted gore
an offended animal to lay in wait
to carve a sign
broken bones to an ego deflate.
Greasy locks with no key
greasy locks know no comb
a key is the comb to chastity dethroned.
Wipers hold a ticket not a minute overdue
like me and them they're waiting for you.
Times up
times out
move on
move back
the burnt orange walls the hammering cracks.
A wide open whore
a drooping quick fire
these idols of worship the heights of desire.
The ball joint severed from the pit-creatures touch
bulls with libido locked down, just a shade too much
a shade off white
a shade before black
the shade of the awning over the etched copper plaque.
Grey exhaust
burning oil
a midday nap
behind the wheel slumped, terminally trapped
the twitching nose of a sulphate rat
the hipptiy-hop of a backward cap.
A forward march
gang-plank cast
a hundred lashes bound to a cross-sparred mast.
Miss my wave
My "Hello" a goodbye
a liver infection casts again the yellowy eyes.
A finger pointed
a dead mothers child
toward the Satan in a world gone wild.
Kiss green felt and feel my green kiss
grab rails and cushions
hear my serpents gargled hiss.
Take aim, chin low
stroke slow and even
ram home, screw back
hold back your breathing.
Feel a river on a spine, a tongue tastes salt
no money, no possessions, my valuables locked tight in your vault.
A borrowed cigarette or laugh
champagne is for girls
mixed with orange-juice the giggling flirts.
Lace shirts, lace bras, lace panties discarded
emotions unhitched the drugged up retardants
I'd keep a box full of curls from my barber-shop bathroom
gently and lovingly I could tell that the treasure knew
swollen and staring, daring me on
uncaring, yet pleading, for a flick of the tongue.
A brown paper bag ape a poor second rater
smiling and swigging, a left, right, "Call me later".
More songs of coffee, of caffeine depression
I just thought up and answer to that age old question
the answer is golf
they cry is "Fore"
from tee to green and not a stroke more.
Head down arm straight, see a face in a dimple
two fifty on the fly so perfectly simple.
Chip on, up and down
chip in and around.
"I guessed it you knew it, don't whisper so loud"
So publicly, so blatantly, so often, so what?
"You don't say"
"I heard you the first time"
"Shut up"
"Go away".
Talk stops to a trucks rude intrusion
the smell, the sound, mechanical confusion.
Delusions of grandeur, I'm baptised of Christ
being slowly swallowed by a rising tide
a rip the under-current to the wide open sea
I'm too young to die take it not me
take them not I
take their voices and lies
their hearing their touch
take their stench and sight.
The animals gone mad, mutated cross-breeding
incestuous inbreds a panic stricken mob lacking leading
their skins like pelts, their outer coverings
covered in themselves the open sores need smothering
yellow lymph touched blood in a tie-dye swirl
their quarantine ignored
spread a plague on the world.
Worn tappets misfiring
cylinder four is gone
spark plug is carbon blackened
the fan belt is worn.
Even what's worn is torn
a salute to the fraying edge.
And here's me looking for a hole in the middle.
First, second, fourth, fifth
pedal to the metal, clutch and brake
high beam, low beam, no beam at all
red-line, seat adjust, driving gloves and shades.
Distinction high
distinction
indistinct emotion
affinity on cruise an empathetic over-drive.
Red light, green light, drunken amber flow
hand-brake, tail light, number-plate a name.
'L' plate a state of mind
'P' plate a stainless steel trap.
100, 120, $150 to the mile
150 miles to go.
Glove-box a shoe-box
goggle-box a stop-watch.
Fifth, third, second.
Right-hander, left-hander,
open minded back-hander.
Pit-stop, short-stop, a non-stop crotch-rot
ceaseless, peaceless, deceaseless in pieces.
White-line fever, a smartie-dreamer
ten thousand lights screaming a neon fever.
Footpaths of vacancy
double-clutch complacency
temporary insanity hacked a sacred cow.
"How and why"?
"When and where"?
"Because"!
"Look it's there"
Hill-climb on a dirt-track
a wrong way go back
Speed limit
black comet
bags full of last nights vomit
stenching toxic waste
a tribute to haste
and violence and crime
one day at a time this life of mine.
Windows down, windows up
doors open, doors shut
locked in, central locking
knees to chest to stop the knocking.
A door-bell ring
a petrol thing.
Shuffle third, fifth
burnt out spliff
metallic riff over boogie-boy croon.
In the rearview mirror the brainless passenger
hopeless motivator of the hopeless cause.
Personalised key-tag
name-tags a dog-tag
a black-bag with zipper holds a mothers pride and joy.
Full stop
parking spot
a quick hop to a quick shot
a big shot
a hot shot with a hot dot.
"Bag the buggy"
"What's the hurry"?
It cools the engine as it hums its thanks
these foreign tanks
long forgotten human shanks.
A crash course for a main course
a resource for a race horse
the artistry of the jockey
with a whip as a brush
a Madam Lush
the equine rush of a three horse flush.
Revs up
backs out
tyres squeal like a hero's shout.
Burn out victim a suburban crime
the truncheon swing and the yellowy eyes
the ice-age thawed to a watery grave
the man in motion
the time we save
for more of the same
the old, the new
taking rest-breaks
the smokers knew.
A fingered flying-vee to over crowded buses
ties and suits see short skirts, cotton gussets
lace stocking tops to bulging waists
the snoring ignorer we all hate.
"Tickets please"
"More please"
Open the glass and choke the breeze.
A car alone
handless phone
ET's long gone took the navigators flight.
The dogs bite became a maul
a liquid squall strokes the sanctums pane
blue line, black ink, anonymous name of the one deranged
Twisting through gorges wooded
I'm hooded
in a flesh ravine
with thoughts obscene
a milky-way highway
balls to body dream.
Forget the day and laze
and bathe
in the summer haze before the grey.
In a mane gone rank and file
the tortured while
blackened smile
incisors filed
a worlds beguiled with a hair-piece on skin
the secret knock for an in
and "Out you go"
an expressway phone
blue and for emergencies
my emergence priority.
"Social security" the lady smiled
we talked a while
second knuckle shine
the husbands grunt, the children's whine
over a burger and fires
pizza pie
wood-fired, oven-baked
garlic-bread crumbs flake on red and white cloth
I'm a butterfly to your moth
a dreamer to you schemer
the faithful to all disbelievers
a giver non-receiver
with a penchant for pubic floss
I lap your fruit you drain my loss.
Your pain at my world
I'm the man to your girl
were you woman we'd fuck
Lucked out, snuck in
shrugged shoulders free of sin.
"It's him".
A change of name to hide shame
on the back of fame
the back-door best friends game
that alcohol fuelled "They're all the same"
The lost time a drop in a sterile probe
psyche fused
blackness
darkened hatred shown
exhibited, gossiped, soap-opera'd away
follow the script
a postscript will say "Good riddance to lies"
an immortal dies to fan the flames of dwindling fires.
Wire rimmed frames focus a world to a blur
rock hard and deft as speeches slur.
Back seat
dead meat
short and sweet
a truncheon beat repeat.
she looked neat with blue back scrawl
no mid-western drawl.
A g-string wedgie creased her gates
find me here two beers too late
my liquid smile affixed with froth
a pig-bristle brush
an orange and green toed sloth
hanging from a tripod
toward biped with a beast inside.
In my bed
stroke my shaved head
grip my manhood tight
let your womanhood ooze and seep
and soak the seam
that fountainhead spring a maternal dream.
Money can't buy for you near death
white powder ride an opiate test.
Potatoes distilled in an age-old fashion
hours and hours of verbal, babbling passion
over leather bag the perfect mind
tears, phobias, comparisons left behind.
Stop the traffic
spread arms and fly
that tear I tap from the corner of your eye.
Fake fur for all access Too-tall Jones
falling yin-yang spiral with smile all alone
a passenger seat cum, touching burning flesh
I'm down to drown
tongue-tied filament caress.
The white gate to two-storied Heaven
the status-quo shuffle, the secret brethren
squashed between neighbours domestic and tragic
burning cheap incense and gulping down magic
the virgin white bug cannot ignore
the sight and sound of self-inflicted gore
an offended animal to lay in wait
to carve a sign
broken bones to an ego deflate.
Greasy locks with no key
greasy locks know no comb
a key is the comb to chastity dethroned.
Wipers hold a ticket not a minute overdue
like me and them they're waiting for you.
Times up
times out
move on
move back
the burnt orange walls the hammering cracks.
A wide open whore
a drooping quick fire
these idols of worship the heights of desire.
The ball joint severed from the pit-creatures touch
bulls with libido locked down, just a shade too much
a shade off white
a shade before black
the shade of the awning over the etched copper plaque.
Grey exhaust
burning oil
a midday nap
behind the wheel slumped, terminally trapped
the twitching nose of a sulphate rat
the hipptiy-hop of a backward cap.
A forward march
gang-plank cast
a hundred lashes bound to a cross-sparred mast.
Miss my wave
My "Hello" a goodbye
a liver infection casts again the yellowy eyes.
A finger pointed
a dead mothers child
toward the Satan in a world gone wild.
Kiss green felt and feel my green kiss
grab rails and cushions
hear my serpents gargled hiss.
Take aim, chin low
stroke slow and even
ram home, screw back
hold back your breathing.
Feel a river on a spine, a tongue tastes salt
no money, no possessions, my valuables locked tight in your vault.
A borrowed cigarette or laugh
champagne is for girls
mixed with orange-juice the giggling flirts.
Lace shirts, lace bras, lace panties discarded
emotions unhitched the drugged up retardants
I'd keep a box full of curls from my barber-shop bathroom
gently and lovingly I could tell that the treasure knew
swollen and staring, daring me on
uncaring, yet pleading, for a flick of the tongue.
A brown paper bag ape a poor second rater
smiling and swigging, a left, right, "Call me later".
More songs of coffee, of caffeine depression
I just thought up and answer to that age old question
the answer is golf
they cry is "Fore"
from tee to green and not a stroke more.
Head down arm straight, see a face in a dimple
two fifty on the fly so perfectly simple.
Chip on, up and down
chip in and around.
"I guessed it you knew it, don't whisper so loud"
So publicly, so blatantly, so often, so what?
"You don't say"
"I heard you the first time"
"Shut up"
"Go away".
Talk stops to a trucks rude intrusion
the smell, the sound, mechanical confusion.
Delusions of grandeur, I'm baptised of Christ
being slowly swallowed by a rising tide
a rip the under-current to the wide open sea
I'm too young to die take it not me
take them not I
take their voices and lies
their hearing their touch
take their stench and sight.
The animals gone mad, mutated cross-breeding
incestuous inbreds a panic stricken mob lacking leading
their skins like pelts, their outer coverings
covered in themselves the open sores need smothering
yellow lymph touched blood in a tie-dye swirl
their quarantine ignored
spread a plague on the world.
Worn tappets misfiring
cylinder four is gone
spark plug is carbon blackened
the fan belt is worn.
Even what's worn is torn
a salute to the fraying edge.
And here's me looking for a hole in the middle.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
The screaming 7 year old begs for ejection and a posterior-humongous flails blindly in the hope of a hit.
A Welsh lilt fresh from valley Clare, a thousand years from a coal pit, smiles an accusation that raises the guilt.
The joint venture pays dividends almost immediately and on the big day a collect was anticipated with a salivating tongue.
"Quiver me five big ones dappled in sweat".
All the hatred in the world lands on a doorstep on the hunt for a home and is unceremoniously put to the sword until swollen fit to burst.
Jealousy drove a van into the back of an unseen truck and hit fame in a column in the the classifieds. Watching, smiling, on the floor in the back, the ex of an ex long since immortalised on a million bed-sheets and at the fingertips of untried desperates.
Don't smile as if nothing has happened.
Buried tongue-deep in love he'd found words hard to come by and had had his mind read aloud by a non-intelligent ex-Catholic sacrifice to a priests need for holy compunction..
On a hill overlooking the country of God they impaled the fatherless like Vlad on holidays all in the name of the name with the punishment of shame and self-flagellated pain.
Gin blossoms a quart of tears and angels wipe dirt from smiles very nearly lost in the rush.
A dragonfly attempts to become a mosquito in the hope of staying hydrated at a loners misfortune.
The sleepy-eyed no-hoper dwelt over bottle-tops and depression kitchens sweating out needs in a bed-sit hollow so deep as to make escape impossible. Caught at six in the morning by a hard-up gym junkie wearing cheap aftershave and an attractive line of drug enticement he'd fallen to knees and accepted the company of his new found idol in stone.
Disbelief ruled the streets like the iron-fisted dictator all no change and no common decency.
Disbelief took a bride in bandanna to a green bound world of ultimate bliss.
When the returning shows all to be exactly how it is they shall tremble before their obvious limitations.
The can't states that a won't is impossible and takes it to the grave.
"Squeal piggy-boy squeal"
How could you share their omnipotence?
How could you play the silent fool so easily?
How now can you laugh so loud?
A Welsh lilt fresh from valley Clare, a thousand years from a coal pit, smiles an accusation that raises the guilt.
The joint venture pays dividends almost immediately and on the big day a collect was anticipated with a salivating tongue.
"Quiver me five big ones dappled in sweat".
All the hatred in the world lands on a doorstep on the hunt for a home and is unceremoniously put to the sword until swollen fit to burst.
Jealousy drove a van into the back of an unseen truck and hit fame in a column in the the classifieds. Watching, smiling, on the floor in the back, the ex of an ex long since immortalised on a million bed-sheets and at the fingertips of untried desperates.
Don't smile as if nothing has happened.
Buried tongue-deep in love he'd found words hard to come by and had had his mind read aloud by a non-intelligent ex-Catholic sacrifice to a priests need for holy compunction..
On a hill overlooking the country of God they impaled the fatherless like Vlad on holidays all in the name of the name with the punishment of shame and self-flagellated pain.
Gin blossoms a quart of tears and angels wipe dirt from smiles very nearly lost in the rush.
A dragonfly attempts to become a mosquito in the hope of staying hydrated at a loners misfortune.
The sleepy-eyed no-hoper dwelt over bottle-tops and depression kitchens sweating out needs in a bed-sit hollow so deep as to make escape impossible. Caught at six in the morning by a hard-up gym junkie wearing cheap aftershave and an attractive line of drug enticement he'd fallen to knees and accepted the company of his new found idol in stone.
Disbelief ruled the streets like the iron-fisted dictator all no change and no common decency.
Disbelief took a bride in bandanna to a green bound world of ultimate bliss.
When the returning shows all to be exactly how it is they shall tremble before their obvious limitations.
The can't states that a won't is impossible and takes it to the grave.
"Squeal piggy-boy squeal"
How could you share their omnipotence?
How could you play the silent fool so easily?
How now can you laugh so loud?
Friday, June 17, 2011
I perused a short note from Irving of Berlin, a small time piano player I met decades ago stroking ribald tunes on an upright in the corner of the "Half a Century Too Long Ago" bar, as can-can corners on a coaster tore themselves apart under my touch.
"Don't tarnish the ivories" it read and I immediately drew lips closed around my newly purchased dental offerings.
I asked for a straw from the strawberry-blonde in stars and stripes thigh-high skirt and she pulled a sterling-silver tube of about 2 inches in length from between her plastic-factory breasts and offered it up for inspection in the glow from the twin candles that sat on the table.
"For my drink"
She snorted at the air like the doped favourite in race 6 when it's locked in the starting gate with a stewards overpaid finger stuck up its arse waiting for the gate to open so it can attempt a kick at the digital sodomites head in the name of a flying start.
She pirouetted on a sharpened stiletto and two mounds of glutinous-maximus jiggled away from me as they fought over a mint-drop and which of them would get to tear my wrapper into the longest strip.
I ducked as a handful of 6 inch plastic tubes flew the intervening distance between mine hostess with the mostest and me..
She wouldn't have understood the warning, and how could I explain that Irving had never been wrong before. Not since that night by the wall when the sweet Fraulein from bunker 12 had offered herself on the whisper of a name sounding some-what Aryan, atop a brown shirt bearing seams fit to burst. I'd seen Irving sink to the waist, then chest to knee, then neck to ankle deep, and saw the smile in his eyes and the glow on his lips as his hair stood on end and an unholy scream fell around us. As God is my witness.
I hadn't seen Irving since that moment but had continued to find endless scraps of paper with tips and pearls of wisdom strewn throughout my travels in his scrawl.
On a losing lottery ticket in a near desserted newsagent I'd spied a chance in a million at a poodle toting socialite gone to Valium and midday television. Irving had written "Raise the shade" and with this in mind I proceeded to take infinite pleasure from trying to find suture scars behind ears and the point of entry into the upper thighs and buttocks where the gym had failed.
As a toy-boy I make good Lego and as a lover I make good Irish stew, all meat and vegetables with lashings of magic ingredients.
I plucked a straw from the pile on the table and no other straw moved so I took another, still none moved and so I kept picking until I'd built a complete replica Cutty Sark in blue plastic tubes without anyone catching me move a single straw. I thought one moved once but with the flickering light I gave myself the benefit of the doubt and picked on regardless.
Strawberry-stripes-forever comes with apologies to the Beatles and all those girls whose Catholic school education precludes the shaving of thighs and higher as I slurp the last of the liquid through the nights first ice.
She stands waiting for the unenviable chore of replacing what I've just finished knowing full well I'm going to peer dazedly after her departure.
The blinding light of day gores the dark and through gate 13 comes not one, not 2, but 3 all time, wild-haired swamp-cats on the verge of a quicksand bath at the hands of Harry our quite sensorially handicapped barman. Harry pours by weight and selects ice from the bucket by name and bottles from the shelf by their percentage over content. I once ordered bourbon with no ice and a little coke and ended up drinking some woman named Susan, with and ex-husband, dry over easy with the rind removed, on a terrace overlooking long dammed country canals.
Harry's the kind of barman who knows. Know what I mean?
My drink's come back as it's twin and from the way I know Harry if there isn't a late gestation, grain-fed, dream-machine hidden somewhere below a blinking Elvis effigy pumping out clones ad infinitum then Irving lives in a shack beachside hunting blood-worms with rancid meat and used stockings.
"Sit with me Strawberry"
She lowers herself like a goods lift at lunch time all hardness against skin, all business and bullshit about an early afternoon appointment with Chairman Cheese and Tomato toasted just brown, an orange juice to go because the mobile is ringing and I'm late for life.
Just like that woman from what seems like days but is probably months ago she has this habit of crossing and uncrossing then recrossing her legs as if in some way she'll relieve the boredom. Me I'm fine spectating the first onset of age that bubbles on the underside of her thighs up where her skirt rides highest and thrills seem trickiest.
For each uncross back to a recross a flash of unclad forest sneaks past her knees to my knees and then through the bush telegraph to my eyes blinking in time with the movement of her legs and the candles dancing flames so as not to miss even the slightest bit of excitement. It's become hypnotic and I'm tranced, with one hand locked around a glass stuck to the bottom lip, while the other hand pushes insinuation away from a lap threatening to cause a scene.
Strawberry smiles a smile full of teenage-braces and Irving scrawls again somewhere ahead for me to find.
"Don't tarnish the ivories" it read and I immediately drew lips closed around my newly purchased dental offerings.
I asked for a straw from the strawberry-blonde in stars and stripes thigh-high skirt and she pulled a sterling-silver tube of about 2 inches in length from between her plastic-factory breasts and offered it up for inspection in the glow from the twin candles that sat on the table.
"For my drink"
She snorted at the air like the doped favourite in race 6 when it's locked in the starting gate with a stewards overpaid finger stuck up its arse waiting for the gate to open so it can attempt a kick at the digital sodomites head in the name of a flying start.
She pirouetted on a sharpened stiletto and two mounds of glutinous-maximus jiggled away from me as they fought over a mint-drop and which of them would get to tear my wrapper into the longest strip.
I ducked as a handful of 6 inch plastic tubes flew the intervening distance between mine hostess with the mostest and me..
She wouldn't have understood the warning, and how could I explain that Irving had never been wrong before. Not since that night by the wall when the sweet Fraulein from bunker 12 had offered herself on the whisper of a name sounding some-what Aryan, atop a brown shirt bearing seams fit to burst. I'd seen Irving sink to the waist, then chest to knee, then neck to ankle deep, and saw the smile in his eyes and the glow on his lips as his hair stood on end and an unholy scream fell around us. As God is my witness.
I hadn't seen Irving since that moment but had continued to find endless scraps of paper with tips and pearls of wisdom strewn throughout my travels in his scrawl.
On a losing lottery ticket in a near desserted newsagent I'd spied a chance in a million at a poodle toting socialite gone to Valium and midday television. Irving had written "Raise the shade" and with this in mind I proceeded to take infinite pleasure from trying to find suture scars behind ears and the point of entry into the upper thighs and buttocks where the gym had failed.
As a toy-boy I make good Lego and as a lover I make good Irish stew, all meat and vegetables with lashings of magic ingredients.
I plucked a straw from the pile on the table and no other straw moved so I took another, still none moved and so I kept picking until I'd built a complete replica Cutty Sark in blue plastic tubes without anyone catching me move a single straw. I thought one moved once but with the flickering light I gave myself the benefit of the doubt and picked on regardless.
Strawberry-stripes-forever comes with apologies to the Beatles and all those girls whose Catholic school education precludes the shaving of thighs and higher as I slurp the last of the liquid through the nights first ice.
She stands waiting for the unenviable chore of replacing what I've just finished knowing full well I'm going to peer dazedly after her departure.
The blinding light of day gores the dark and through gate 13 comes not one, not 2, but 3 all time, wild-haired swamp-cats on the verge of a quicksand bath at the hands of Harry our quite sensorially handicapped barman. Harry pours by weight and selects ice from the bucket by name and bottles from the shelf by their percentage over content. I once ordered bourbon with no ice and a little coke and ended up drinking some woman named Susan, with and ex-husband, dry over easy with the rind removed, on a terrace overlooking long dammed country canals.
Harry's the kind of barman who knows. Know what I mean?
My drink's come back as it's twin and from the way I know Harry if there isn't a late gestation, grain-fed, dream-machine hidden somewhere below a blinking Elvis effigy pumping out clones ad infinitum then Irving lives in a shack beachside hunting blood-worms with rancid meat and used stockings.
"Sit with me Strawberry"
She lowers herself like a goods lift at lunch time all hardness against skin, all business and bullshit about an early afternoon appointment with Chairman Cheese and Tomato toasted just brown, an orange juice to go because the mobile is ringing and I'm late for life.
Just like that woman from what seems like days but is probably months ago she has this habit of crossing and uncrossing then recrossing her legs as if in some way she'll relieve the boredom. Me I'm fine spectating the first onset of age that bubbles on the underside of her thighs up where her skirt rides highest and thrills seem trickiest.
For each uncross back to a recross a flash of unclad forest sneaks past her knees to my knees and then through the bush telegraph to my eyes blinking in time with the movement of her legs and the candles dancing flames so as not to miss even the slightest bit of excitement. It's become hypnotic and I'm tranced, with one hand locked around a glass stuck to the bottom lip, while the other hand pushes insinuation away from a lap threatening to cause a scene.
Strawberry smiles a smile full of teenage-braces and Irving scrawls again somewhere ahead for me to find.
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