We’re finally at the end of the crazy-June! Leaving us still with 2 months of silly season (English summer) to go… Where that will take us who can possibly know?!
June Oh June
With your bitch, full, blue moon.
You run on in pieces
in drips so drab
and break up the fun
that we waited to have.
You tyrannous slut
of a month
– Cat June!
Bringing the promise of sun and fun
to dash them and crush us –
you run on and run.
So you’ll guess I’m not pleased with you;
guess we’re not growing
to love your foul days of rain,
while you hide the suns glowing!
What have you become
now so late and wet
were you once called the sun?
I cry for you, baby
and the tears sting my cheeks!
I cry everyday
through your long blasted weeks.
Can’t get enough of that magic you do!
Stocks are broke
Oil’s all down the drain
you too get the feeling you’re here once again?
Standby – hold tight –
We’ll shoot when it’s time
wait for the clamour of bangs on the line.
Here’s the latest
We’ve forgiven Iran
The Soviets too.
Out of their madness and out of their heads
Our greatest have failed
to lead us to death.
You’re not due yet
There’s time to drop bombs
Our gods hedging his bets
Stately you wait on
The pride of good taste
Please be in no hurry
to rush with the race.
Warm as love – blood spurts from the fresh flesh wounds of cancers fading shadows! As sharply as the bones of my belief shattered a year ago, so my dreams of idylls splinter freely today. Here, like the glove too tight for comfort (stretches clean and webs in yellow), memories of fun cling longingly to the curves of my lightless brain.
So it is, here among my playful shadows, the blisters of yesterdays scratching; the flake of my worn-dry skin, prove achingly alien to any tender caress… Painfully barren of others touch or kiss, just sore from neglect. Where else could my thoughts wear down such sumptuous solitude? Long since forgotten, left to scar – somehow free through these peels of skin, transparent as the wafer-thin meat itself. Myself!
I am left only with the memories of pain (which hurts more?). So in this ache of reminiscence, and the lurch to escape, time (heavy as my eyelids) hammers out the tune of our minute and ticks me reeling into the arms of my tomorrow.
In a metal box that rocks
with metal from it’s rock boxes
White Stacey cries it’s alive
in black rhymes and lies
oh White Stacey, who were
you rocking in that metal rockbox?
Oh White Stacey, with their
grim impress still fresh on your yellow locks!
From low down the top end of town
old curling burley slope-headed blokes
snarl freely as Stacey bounces by in her box
back to flat pints of watery beer
back to the sticky games of
stuck down pool
wiping leering chops of drooling shots up
lining pints up
Yet somehow never cheering up.
Oh scroats! Oh unhappy ‘happy-hour’ scroats
How many you number
And mass riches you squander.
Drowning in pool, sliding on cue!
To the sticky end of
your bitter fed night!
Such dedication from so many stars and this medication to stick up their arse how full and engaging the mighty play lights entertaining ideas that take most of the night. Where musical reasons take second seats back for the cat thieves and bread men who smell their attack! Well late and unstable a morbid curl comes rolling eyes wide and licking air just as well… Oh! Too late indeed for your eye-licking frenzy and caught by a lash these tears painfully leave.
Out of the reach of love
Standing clear of the paths that others dream of
How did you get so lost?
So far from warm hearts in this long frost
When worlds get close enough to touch
Your lonely tide draws all heat off
Here’s no blind old preacher
Crushed by the weight of a heart breached!
Just turning the other cheek
Keeping thoughts clear and pain out of reach
A rising chorus of lovers wail
for lost chance and misdirection
Somehow your drive is stuck on fail
When teased with a threat of emotion
And this shield that is fear’s
Some coarse protection
Unwilling to tempt a hope of union
So you stand clear of the
rough hewn path
And let those pass
Who promise what love desires…
Tremors of confusion wrack your mind
And you’re too bonkers lost to think in time
So taking your own misery
Too seriously to grin
The laps of speedy craziness
Spiral around then in
Other peoples’ screams of joy seep
Through a split ‘tween glass and wood
Where in your house
The echoes of this delight
Bounce round your ears
And shake them good
But it’s not happiness you gleen from this
As sour grit grinds your grinding teeth
Even as the rest of town
Erupts, lost in excitement,
The tears that smear your moribund cheeks
Are not loose with relief
Oh poisoned mind
Dumb angry blind
For another swift day
Why waste these thoughts
Why curse your time
Live your way.