our meeting is imminent
cognizant i will indeed falter
loosen up
you see i need to loosen up
i consider
balmy dreams
of equatorial groves
butterflies
deep spiders
and monkeys lounge
amidst sumptuous vegetation
so lush
fresh apples in your memory
and cool water
drink
step in
swayed by vines
leaves
polished stones
underneath
the sun
penetrates the canopy
and deliciously
your face
little tiny freckles
earthen skin
why, this is happiness
paradise
realize
you are always alone
with nature
animals
and have yet to attain
inhumanness
but
know where redwoods grow
you could climb them
but never to harm
never to harm
or you would feel
the mightiest regret
as you do now
burdened by a lack of perspective
complete attentiveness
to such esoteric detail
do you even remember
to greet the sum with a smile
clouds with a smirk
relish rather than scowl
an eternal breath
passion
is a dripping bees’ nest
slightly unspoken paradigms
of nomadic lusciousness
abound
primal instincts

the essentia of my birth
consciousness
connectivity
remote and peaceful
no need for another
i simply yearn
for such sublime magic
wholly found within
thank you
so impossibly much
someone to share solitude
is an arbitrary system
but works
no formula
a liquid, fluid feeling
changes like the weather
changes the weather
a kingdom of god
is no longer
in sight
only free will
and the power to question
even that.


you kiss me, baby, in the coffee shop
you make me nervous, you gotta stop

overlooked by those seeking masculinity
in all its primal rawness
seemingly understated meek little mouse
dark screaming eyes full of wanting
thin shell of composure spread over
thick, hot blood.
it pulsates through your body
your heart
and your slick fleshy vulva.


you kiss me, baby, in the coffee shop
you make me nervous, you gotta stop

This room has never seen
this kind of thing before
you can tell from the steam
on the windows
and the creaking
of the bed on the floor

But you still have to ask
if I'm just using you
when you see how I shake
and that distant look in my eyes
glazed over smile
and sweat drenched hair

You should know by now
that nothing is conscious
all is instinct,
intuition
and I don't know what it is I say
in the drunken small hours
which we forget in the morning

Perhaps a little too soon

Do you think

if these walls could talk

we'd come in front of a firing squad?


If that's not irony then I don't know what is

I was going through old papers the other day
and saw a girl with long dark hair
at some kind of protest or another
her eyes alight with passion
and a sense of dignity

She was just like you;
Well, just like you might have been
In a different time
With a different morality

I was walking the streets yesterday
and saw a kid bumming a cigarette;
his eyes were dead
I guess he’d seen to much
and didn’t want to see anymore

He was just like me;
Well, just like I might have been
But for a twist of fate
and the grace of God

I was at a bar last night
and saw a couple hand in hand
they were happy and free
like we’d all love to be

They were just like us;
Well, just like we might have been
If not for the pull of decadence
And mutual animosity.


Shane McGowan: I could have been someone
Kirsty MacColl: Well, so could anyone...

a moth landed on a pool of sap
and slow he sunk
to suck the sweet of hidden roots
the solace of the still

then satisfied, he yearned for flight
and shuddering
his sullen wings, he ripped away
and found he could with ease

he leaves his dusted print on me
my flying fuck
once fleeting, now is floundering
beneath a specter's weight

and he who comes and sleeps and sloughs
away the crust
of former bliss is free of me
but, i collect his lust


It's holding the night in its arms
If only for a moment
I can't see the look in its eyes,
But I'm sure it must be laughing

Although I try to forget
the things you said
they're always on my mind
and come back to me
when I'm lying in bed at night

Because
I had this good thing going
and now she's as good as gone
but you always had said
my life was kinda like a country song

Well, meanwhile I've kept on living
doing whatever it is I do
but sometimes I think about how
I haven't seen you in a while
but it'd be a pleasure to

Because
I had this good thing going
and now she's as good as gone
but you always had said
my life was kinda like a country song

Shane McGowan: I could have been someone
Kirsty MacColl: Well, so could anyone...

the sight

wreckage surveyor
how misery delights
enough to slow your gravelly roll
but not enough to halt
although the blood-smeared headlights
spill blood light on the asphalt -
for you to wade through, cautiously
for you to play in, nauseously


It's holding the night in its arms
If only for a moment
I can't see the look in its eyes,
But I'm sure it must be laughing

And once again
the wine is gone
when you wake up to find
you're here with me again
you make your excuses
and leave before six
smoking another of my cigarettes

and once again you're gone
and I don't know what to do
not that I'm not used to it
I guess I just expect more from you

and once agin I'll wake up
wondering how I ended up
at your house
lying next to you
and get my clothes
and shoot off home
and call in a couple of days
or maybe not

and again you lie there wondering
if it was something that you said
and questioning my motives
for taking you to bed


but it's a force of habit
a cycle we can't break
ingrained reactions
a couple of drunken whores
stuck in our ways

let's stay together
sometime
for a change


Lotto: It's like a stock market for the poor! - The Onion

the killer bee,
joseph cornell eating vials of honey
thick chalky mud
underneath his fingernails
scratching at the suitcases
only to discover
nine different browns.
oskar sends his regards, joseph,
and highballs stuffed
with amorphous energy and gin.
tack on a stamp
with the picture of a pope
tongue full of glue
and daschund hairs
eating them like you eat
your butterflies, your moths
fork and knife cut like butter
cut like dripping meats
incisors snap through.
gold teeth of love,
gypsies raid your insides
with an old newspaper
and a copper coin
bull tells me all his friends are dead
i hand him a feather
'go to the horizon and seek peace'
his horns hang
and knows to bury himself in the sand
to survive the night.


you kiss me, baby, in the coffee shop
you make me nervous, you gotta stop

And the first one was a member
of my older brothers' friends
who chewed me up and spat me out
until I stood up and surrendered
and did it over again
because that's what I thought love was
well that's all it was to me
but now I think I'm getting smarter
and won't make that mistake again
so I've cast her aside
with a wave of my hand

but the next one was a sweet girl
who didn't deserve that kind of thing
but man she got it anyway
and she got it pretty bad
but forgave me all the same
there's a lesson there in that
which I suppose I forgot already
but that's the way it goes
when you're young and drunk and laughing
at everything that passes
between you and someone else

So the third one was much older
and as older ones tend to do
she took me in and taught me
all that she once knew
but I knew those things already
and politely took my leave
and she went back to where she came from
a coastal town across the sea
doubtlessly with bad thoughts of our love
but that's all that we were worth

and yet the fourth one was a mixture
of all that came before
and we'd get drunk and roll around
and end up on the floor
and yeah everything was happy
but then everything was sad
until one day she left here
saying 'you're the best I ever had
but now don't hold this against me
cause it's all that I can do
to leave with what I have
and let you keep what's left of you'

so the last one was a sister
of a certain friend of mine
and I took her from her lover
and relieved her of her mind
but when we were standing naked
she could be heard to say
'I wish I'd been much wiser now
than I had been yesterday'
but nothing can be perfect
and then everything was lost
so we went our separate ways
and no one thought about the cost
because we are young and pretty
well, as pretty as we'll be
and though people talk,
people talk, it's nothing to do with me

and I’m still yet to say I’m sorry
for all the things I might have done
but you can never tell who’s worth it
or who's as worthless as yourself
so I’ll go on blindly sighing spitting
at anything I see
safe in the knowledge fate will guide me
from problem A back to point Z
cause it’s nobodies fault we’re heedless
to the lessons of the past
cause when you’re young and drunk and mindless
you want to learn them for yourself

so the next one will be different
as we each say every time
she'll be sweet and smart and sober
with nothing better for her time
and we could lie together happy
playing records in the dark
and there'll be no more need for codeine
acid and absinthe
and no more need of anyone
to tell us what we're worth
well hey a boy can dream
and I do so everyday
that someday things could be different
so don't take my dreams away

(with apologies to Jeff Mangum)

Lotto: It's like a stock market for the poor! - The Onion