Exhumed

This body belongs in sub-human lands,
Deep inside my house of serpents
Where museums of filth archive our expanding desires
Indexing deviance with a smile and a frown,
All laden upon one fleshless face - once bone, now hardened chunks of paint

This cave - this endless canyon of echoed needs,
Need not be fulfilled in this lifetime,
All at once become reality, in a fleeting heartbeat
For one God-awful second,
One vile moment,
Come, the wild horses! Come, the headless, and now unmasked!
Come, decapitate these brutal musings - tear them from me,
Like a dead child from my useless womb,
Or kindness from this empty heart

True venom lies, behind stonebrown eyes,
Made whole from passing mention,
Given life to this sordid creation, that I no longer commit,
No longer control these ugly, audacious passions
Let the storm be calm, for it has ravaged my inside
And nought is left to be seen inside, but exhumed humanity,
With all emotion spent,
This body belongs deep underground,
Inside my house of serpents

You Lit the Flame

You are a hero to many
Going unrecognised by the idiot few
Passed over for glamorous abominations
With despicable imaginations
And a failure to ground those angelic eyes
Into desperate reality

Can it disappear?
Dissipate between these wretched hands?
Imagine the bitter grains of quicksand,
Sucked in by torment and buried beneath trauma
Of an everyday life I made,
And no longer desire

Imagine forgetting what has made you,
When this endless night
wakes you,
Shakes these pale bones and weak skin
And only a fatalistic apparition of unparalleled inspiration
Remains,
A sardonic smile and unconvinced
All-knowing stare,
Stirs a deep guilt and regret,
All this failed disciple needs
Is word of your existence
To keep on burning

You lit the flame,
And I keep on burn, burn, burning


~ For Jude Brigley.

Notes on an Old Hack

Of fate, and faith and whimsy
Notes on a passing day,
That dawn of fleeting passion
Those early scribes of scripture,
Became artisan,
With widened hearts,
Leather-edged,
From being beaten, and beaten
By laughter,
"What will words become you?
Will they see you through the long?"
The never ending daybreak,
But they sang of cuckoo song,
And maiden passage - these early scribes
Romance was not of fashion,
Statements of plain,
Browbeaten by that land of old
Of storms, and God, and all things
Proven,
Asphyxiated by obligation
To stretch into the daybreak,
Of ochre and mauve and chartreuse
And teal,
Those notes,
Predicted vastly

This Boy is More than Just Machine

Twelve points glare
with bewildered terror
Across a box-room
Packed up with jumble and memoir
And other clocks,
That come alive at
The strike of five
And watch with falsetto commentaries,
Tears along their faces
Black and white films, degraded
Base content
Quite animalistic - for a mechanic.

These cogs don't turn
Without a push
With a fire behind to drive
The possibility
Sends a shiver, like a wave
A tsunami of treason
Or some glorious mutiny,
Like the guilletine,
Vile inventions
with Vile intentions

There's that smell again,
Brown woods, oaks and mahoganies
Tin and iron,
That taste,
That dispicable taste
If these cogs don't fit,
And never again, does that face stream
Tick-tock, brother
Nor party without sight
Away from human prying eyes
And imbecilic ears
If his face should freeze
His numbers fade
We'll stand and stare, in twelve hour straits
This sodden mess,
These humble cogs
Will tell us the truth
At least twice a day

Rubies

A contract was drawn then, in the most elusive terms possible, and we parted in the early hours of the morning. We still hadn’t kissed. It didn’t feel rank or sleazy just yet. Oh you will never know the cosmic pleasures I retain from playing the martyr, the modest and the totally self-sacrificing.

Once at home, I collapsed in to bed immediately, delicately pulling the covers over me so not to disturb my sleeping companion. She found herself disturbed nonetheless. Still, she put her arms around me and said nothing.

I Almost Blogged This!

...No wait....I just did...

Blog this!
Read the bellows from a billion different pixels
As if I need a slogan to
Encourage my convictions
As if this corporation
Owns the rights to my creations-
Almost

Who of you retain the right
To stand and claim a patent?
Pull back your palm and and hold it firm
In the face of your own talent?-
Almost

What happened to the ink that violently
Puppeteered my passions?
Screamed across the wanton pages
Confessing those dispicable actions?
Burning a fist
To solicit
The dreamscapes that demand me
Blog this! I'm told
As if this hold
Will never again command me

There's flesh a-raw
Ripped in this throat
From crying tears of venom
Spitting hate across the script
Pretending blame had ended
Blog this! I hear,
My swallowed fears, rise to the occasion,
I've found this place,
And in my haste,
Recorded my satisfaction -
Almost

The 99th Apology

Air,
Is empty weight behind a gunpoint resolution,
To allocate blame at all requires no solution
Matters shrouded in deep regret will never be my choice
I will never find my own truth upon someone else's cross
Nor ever achieve enlightenmentPraying to someone else's God
A life lived by false demands is no life that I want
So gravely I turn from lies I've told,
From self defying turmoil
Embrace from now sickening acts of satisfied perversion
Close your ears from bellowed cheers emmanating from within
The fireworks shriek, and tear the skies
For my next and greatest sin
If I appear rejected...and if I may survive your wrath
If I am no longer your kin, because I chose a different path
While it's bile and sadness that consumes me, this
Vitriolic passion,
At least I can say 'my choice alone lead this path to my attraction'
Those deep bells will toll no longer within my cowardly heart,
I avoided full disclosure, and it tore my family apart
No more will I be found kneeling to violet cloths and cloaks
Demise is not a celebration, nor scent hidden by smoke
Let this be my incantation, let me summon the seas
At least I'll know when these lungs collapse that I made this choice for
me
I will never find my own truth nailed upon my grandfather's cross
Nor ever live a full, happy life, obeying a righteous path
The past may have shaped my faith, or what I once had called
If faith was my supposed saviour, then why did I wish to die alone?
To die so fast, and free at last the tragedy of human weakness
March along the pearly path with a holster and a harness,
Partake of my body throughout my breathing life, so damn me for my sick
nature
Eternity too minute, to erase my lack of faith in scripture
I will never find my own truth upon someone else's cross
Nor embrace disbelief for a life I may have lost
Nor ever possess a happy heart preying to someone else's God
I'm sorry Father, but I'll never live
As somebody I'm not

2003

This is my youth. Thoughts that I had hidden...and now readdress years later with a cool head and a healed heart.


Who Are You Now?
Once, I thought I knew you
Before the words were lost to me;
The same words that swirl endlessly in this electrical storm that resides in my head
It used to be easy to remember
The way you do when you're a child
A scraped knee - a faked cry
A poisoned leaf hidden amongst the lettuce
Praying that the salad gets eaten along with the rest of the dinner

I would have placed a ring on your finger
And staked my claim on you
That I could decompose entwined in your body
That I could disassemble on the floor
And place the pieces in a box, locked in your heart

Not so long ago, I could tell stories
You'd call them lies
But the spellbinding storyteller held you rapt
Bound some imaginary ropes
Thicker than blood, thinner than water
Dreams of making love on the seafront-
Oh I held you rapt, my love

And now, all we can do is cry
Me, pitifully in your arms
You, the dragon monster I paint for all the world to see - alone, truly alone
How wrong it is for this to be destroyed, snatched from my hands
How utterly wasteful, hateful
For you to spill ugly paint across our beautiful canvas
And spatter it continously until all vision is blurred,

Who are you now, my love?
I can't even see you

Cuckold, the Cellist
I give my soul away,
Just for kicks
Give my heart to you to get it fixed
So when i get it back
I'll feel better
And when you think of me
You'll think of her

I want to feel my face pressed
In the snow
I want to feel those wheels
Crush my nose
So when I taste the blood dripped
From my lips
I can feel your hands
Pressed to my hips

The cellist
Her hands are bowed
And her fingers are
Part bone
She stamps on me, she
Breaks my nose
Crush my fingers until they're
Part bone

Cuckold, the Cellist
You left me in peace

Let my finger trace
A pattern down
Along your face
And to your hands
I'll give my heart to you
I don't want it back
So keep it untainted
It's got to last

The Safest Place I Ever Knew
Would you welcome back the warrior who'd fled from all the cries?
Tender wounds and open sores placed before your very eyes?
No spear I hold, no, weaponary
No,Just peace of mind - to be homeI
n the safest place I ever knew

What did the time do to that face?
Did sand crawl across the mirror
and slide bug-like in to the earth?
Did you absorb atrocity...timidity...
Did you devour the pain?
Now, the early night comes
Along draw thought's tears, venomous streaks
Across black eyes, along my brown lips
And I sit
And I wait
And I sit
and I wait
Patiently by my desk
Begging, creeping, screaming mouthless oaths for inspiration

Did you house the imbecile?
Shelter the philistine?
Mask the infidel?
Upon my return
Do you unmask what has gone in my place?
Hands down,
Face
My mouth as I speak,
Words that I squeak

Home now,
Its been far too long
Something evil's lurking
But God praise
I'm home

Exeunt, my Love
Wrapped to eachother,
So solidly twined,
I am the the silence that promises life
Here is the stable,
Dead is the dove,
And long came the icicles,
Drawn toward love

What were you looking for?
One eye blind of night,
I am the shadow that promises light
I am the winter,
Bloom just as sweet
Now I am the one who is left incomplete by your
Searing absense
You
Stew on your throne,
I'll hand you the keys and we'll make ourselves known
Shout to the minions
Scuttle along
I am the one who is made complete by your...

You met your maker,
Ennervated pride
Do you need a queen you can strap to your side?
A pocket insanity - to keep ourselves sane
I am the one who will take all the blame
I am the silenceI am the shadow
I am the one who will take it all in shame, your
Searing absense
You
Stew on your throne,
I'll hand you the keys and we'll make ourselves known
We'll lie to eachother
Scuttle along
I am the one who is made complete by your...


Untitled
You'll broil in your idiocy
And nitpicking fantasy
Steal the flesh from eachothers bones;
Bring a head on a plate...and will you be held in greater esteem?
The loathing you experience when the brilliance shines
A reflection to serve a purpose
Which only highlights the dark pieces inside
There's something opaque
Something blocking the light
A great wall of slyness, deceit
Self aggrandization and rat racing
Who will hit the ground first?
You'll broil in your idiocy
Reduce Eden to emptiness;
And then the shame,
Comes thick and fast,
Snapattack, straight to your heart
Are you ashamed?
You'll broil in your idiocy
And I'll be glad



00:35 She Is
She is every muse
Every muscle
Each inch of flesh strewn across cosmic battlegrounds
She is fibre,
And she is matter
Twisting in pain and writhing in ecstacy
But that doesn't matter
At all

She is slipstream
Physics,
Melancholy rollercoasters, pushing through the gate
Sliding in and out of
Time,
Passing through the centuries with nothing to care

She is losing conscience
Her jaws are clamped in static perfection
Over and
Over

She has hands to wipe the tears
Minds of plenty, a plate of fruitful laughter
Ropes, bound
Hearts,Drowned
Poisoned with ethereal beauty,
Arrows
Bone marrow, solid gold
And intergalactic energy,
Unquenchable, insatiable chemistry

This is what we are
This is how we love eachother

Unquenchable,
Insatiable,
Exotic
Chemistry

Distractions....distractions

Make rain with me upon the surface
In the sunlight
And in the moonshine
Take bitter sweetbreads in your mouth
And taste the cataclysmic chasm of serenity
Be calm between my fingers
At the place where knuckles meet
Swirl endlessly down the human drain;
Cling with burnt hands to the inside
Or scrape with hellish talons, if you so wish
Find health and light with me under the salt lake,
Or make yourself an edged rock
With which to pummel me down
The day you choose to beat me,
Will be the day I wake with a smile -
Not a frown.

Changes in DNA Structure

Once, when days were calmer

And mud ran freely across sunnier plains

Where all I needed was lazy thoughts

To block out the many guilts and shames

Introspect was easy then;

To rattle in to woes of unimportance

Repeat and repeat the words without meaning

Take in to myself what I wished, without conscience

The world seems miniscule, never ending now,

Less hells are raised by the waking day

And waking today was not such a chore

It didn't draw agonies, or crush, or bore

No longer does mysticism draw me to its breast

Nor sadly inspire, for things I could not possess

If the world is at my feet

What's left to worship?

What's left?