The Wasp

Words spawned
from the mouth
of a hungry zeitgeist
and delivered
to the fallen and forlorn
Clothed and fed
by the living dead
in a reality torn
by the infernal zealot
A creature most anthropomorphic
Give us this day our daily tablet
and bleach us like forified bread
with words amplified, rarified,
and delectably catalytic
floating upon the cosmic
with yesterdays plastic
whilst stinging like a hornet
I am the white anglo-saxon poet

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The Doors of Deception

Six long weeks
roaming the dry crust
of a sun burnt wilderness.
Nothing but rocks and red dust,
The hot desert winds
that flay the skin
… now murmuring,
with words broken
of souls lost and forsaken.
Best I finally surrender
upon this alien terrain
the haunted trauma
of a time I’ve tried in vain
. . . to never remember.

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The Hawaiian Motel

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I was staying at
the Surfer’s Paradise
Hawaiian Motel
a Wild Turkey in hand
defrosting
in a monastery cell
when the news broke
… the King of Rock
had just fell
He could Rhythm & Blues
He could Rock and Country
from the Heartbreak Hotel
And Gospel
all the way
to the Edge of Reality
Heaven’s pearly gates
now blown to hell
Mosquitoes and neon buzzing
as the ‘No Vacancy’ sign
flickers on
at the Surfer’s Paradise
Hawaiian motel

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