Archive for September, 2014

The Shit

Most that you write
It’s gonna be shit.
There’s a start & an end
& a SHITE! middle bit…
Most that you write
It’s gonna be shit.
But, that doesn’t mean
There won’t be a bit
Out of what you might write
That might just be THE SHIT!

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Scares

So. Man?
You ran from a prostitute in Amsterdam
Back then.
And the idea of kids still scares you too.
Electric cigarette. Wham Bam.
Getting older
And a bit aloner
Long time man?
Boy girl middle age breakup.
No mortgage, not normal.
Day job fakeup.
Scares of not having
The things that normals bring
To the table of that
Boy, man, middle age wakeup.

Years

All those years
Of love and hate and broken plates.
Sex and tears.
Piss and vinegar.
Early morning tea making,
And the TV!
Movies we watched through-
Good and bad. Me and you.
Best sex. Less sex. No sex.
Sad but through.

A Damn Poem

Here’s a damn poem

I wish it was good

I wash that it could

And maybe I would

If it weren’t for the noises

That say that it should

Fuck them damn noises

It is what it is and

Screw all the voices

We’ll schlep through the muck

Instead

On Hearing of the Death of Robert Young

Loaded was one of the first things I pianoed.
Something about it sympathised.
Later than everyone else, I screamadelicised.
Tried to convert my metal mates over rizla king size.

I remember the time when someone said:
‘Hey, this sounds good even when you’re not off your head’
It felt like a personal victory, of my taste at least.
Moving on Up indeed.

We both jumped from bass into guitar,
You had Les, I got a jaguar.
You, however, made the better fist
I cried at your slide when I was pissed.

And now, that’s it. Nothing left to do
But spin Swastika Eyes
And pray thank you.

Bad Meat Blues

Bad Meat Blues

Cheap meat chunks hurl down dark drains

Cramping on ceramic swearing never again

If it walks like a duck and if it smells like a fish

If it costs half a fuck magic bean dream wish

This is no bargain peppersteak dish

It’s the Bad Meat Blues

It’s the Bad Meat Blues

It’s the Bad Fuckin’ Meat Blues for who’s

Ever stupid enough to swallow the crap

That The Cat that launched a thousand plate raids

Loves a bad Chinese meal bin invade

Now can’t find the inclination to air a nose near

Full on tail flick feline disdain steer clear

Of the Bad Meat Blues

It’s the Bad Meat Blues

It’s the Bad Fuckin’ Meat Blues it brews

Nasty gastrointestinal drive-thru spews

Crusting to the innards of the bowl

So crawl & mince & bone & roll

Retch retch against the dying of the light

Bad Meat Blues uptight gut night