We're all on a road to somewhere.
. . . and the Glam Rock
A child playing
with wildfire rebellion
The tailor who fits you up
swiftly twisting
sweet venom on the tongue
with chemical smoke rising
In the ghetto of the soul
a toxic river flowing
Body and spirit
within the echo of a scream
a tangled web
of a deceptive dream
For heaven’s sake
sleepwalkers awake
Is it ever too late
to make a break?
Who’s pulling the strings?
Can you hear the truth
when the Elvis of God sings?
Summer Venicea
a hothouse
frozen in time
then suspended
in a saltwater museum
The despised tourists
on the dock
by the boatload
disgorging
Then they queue
for religious relics
and pay 5 euros
just to see them
Once they would’ve all
been led for free
and fed into the Colosseum
Like foreigners
who walk around
saying … “Gidday!”
Barbarians well known
to pisciare in the bidet
Junk in school
Junk on the street
Junk is lurking
every place
that people meet
There’s nowhere safe
Can you stand the heat?
Best be cool
and fast on your feet
Junk that cheats
and is hard to beat
Junk piling up
in every place
Landfills full
of fetid waste
A natural habitat
for the human race?
Cockroaches and rats
are where junk’s at
Junk is ‘it’
in cyberspace
Junk all across
the internet
Breadcrumbing junk
Catfishing a flunk
junk that’s funk
gone kaput
and goes kerplunk
What the junk
The relic
from a Junk museum
drunk on junk
upon a rickety podium
giving it a tweet
talking the junk
Hellbent and spiked
like a Cosbied drink
The pulpit subterranean
molten junk is flowing
Junk out of sight
Junk micturating
from a great height
upon the shuffling throng
where junk makes right
Junk opinions
everybody’s got one
Junk in fashion
worn with style and grace
Junk just happens
Junk’s in your face
“Keep on walking!”
I saw a werewolf
with a hymn book in his hand
prowling around
sniffing the ground
from Jonestown to Gaza
He’s that well manicured gent
Some say he’s heaven sent
I’d like to meet his tailor
You can hear him howling
on your television set
Better not turn it on
Little old lady got bitten
late last night
Werewolves of oblivion, again
View original post 379 more words
USED LOVER BLUES
(Mercy & Grace me please Ulysses)
Once I had a lover
Was it all that wrong?
She done me like a crime
against all reason and rhyme
But she knew how to play
my favourite song
There was a time It seemed
she would haunt my dreams
and the days were
just way too long
But tell me
what can you do
when you ain’t that strong?
Lord, I’m tired of paying
these dues …
them used lover blues
Her mythology . . .
all Greek to me
Was the pounding
on Chaos’s anvil
more than a mere mortal
could ever handle?
Continue reading “Used Lover Blues”
“I saw the best minds of my generation
destroyed by madness, starving hysterical
naked, dragging themselves through
the negro streets at dawn
looking for an angry fix.” ~ Allen Ginsberg
The Persistence
The gleaning
seeking fallen fruit
after the harvesting
Neither sowing small
nor reaping big
The art
of just surviving
Street wise
to disguise
the festering fever
of hidden trauma
Is this life a test?
A trial by fire?
‘Eye-Rachnophobia’
