Bliss

I’m not so arrogant
To think I know it all
I suppose in the grand scheme of things I’m pretty fucking small

So I can’t tell you how it is
If two and two make three

I can’t say what has come to pass
Or how it just might be

But one thing before I fade away into the wines abyss
There’s never been a better chance
To find a bit of bliss.


We travel far together looking for the way back home
Recanting tales of how we’ve failed
And every chance we’ve blown

Those moments
Passing moments
That we cast out in the breeze

Forgotten slick of every trick
And talent up our sleeves

Just once before we lose ourselves in fates undying kiss
Let’s take the time to try and find
A little bit of bliss.


A man of many colours but I dream in shades of blue

There’s so much left of life’s hot breath
And so much more to do

Lost lovers by the thousand waiting lazy at the bar

The beauty strolling next to me is going to be a star

And soon for her all this will be a memory long dismissed

Her day will come
She’ll touch the sun
And feel a bit of bliss.


I’m not so arrogant
To think I know it all

I suppose in the grand scheme of things I’m pretty fucking small

But this I know
And this I’m sure

Relax
Revolt
Survive…..

For the dead know only one thing
It’s better to be alive.

So when I go I hope you know it’s this I’m going to miss

For this is love
For this is life

For this is
This is!
Bliss….

Daisy Smiths Adventures in Pornoland

Once upon a Daisy Smith
She met a man with dirty hands
Who offered her ten thousand pounds
If she would take her knickers down

She took them down and he felt blessed
"Ten thousand more to see my chest!"
Said Daisy dressed in just her bra
Pink polka dots that matched her scarf

The pounds were passed and clasps were clipped
His lips fell dry as Daisy stripped
Bewitched he flicked the camera on
and slipped off his old leopard thong

Daisy lay back on plastic sheets
As moustache man licked both her feet
Sucking her toes like they were sweets
And he'd not seen a foot for weeks

With cheeks flush red and eyes abright
He asked for something inpolite
And Daisy said " I'll stay all night
But only if the price is right".

Ass

I was fooled by a Donkey

He gave me the eye...

In the blink of a wink I accepted his lie.

PoP

The convict paints a picture of the want he feels within

He smokes a chain of questions to evoke the muse of night

A star falls through his window and he knows the wind is with him

Who ever thought the dark could be so gracious and forgiving

Last Orders

An Achorite life
In the church of the bar

Stained windows of smoke
mask the passing of time

More wine pleads the loner
Who never goes home
To the house he once shared
with his lover.

An ordurous life
Wearing tar drops and feathers

The whisky is poured
in draconian measures

He drinks by osmosis
He's dead and he knows it
But till the knell sounds
He clings thirsty.

Unholy Smoke

We sit with joints as big as trains
Puffing away our long shot brains
With no good men to pull the reigns
Our carriage speeds to foreign plains

A bomber blew a bloody roar
Unsure if they were still at war
The disco dancers hit the floor
As common sense ran out the door

Before the wave washed them away
A church of God knelt down to pray
Pleading their lord to save the day
And keep the Horseman far at bay

They begged forgiveness from the wind
Renouncing every smoke and sin
When luck ran out they looked within
And let the rain wash over them

The pen was grafted to the sword
A coat of arms adorns the wall
Of every brave that fought the fall
With words defiant to the core

Those moneyed rouges with crimson hands
Living the dream on stolen land
In Castles built from finest sand
They suck their pounds and Kruggerands

The plan was rolled and lost in leaves
A nation robbed became the thief
Now all the saints who still believe
Are counting every breath they breathe

Relief we need from tyrants smiles
A reckoning day upon the tiles
When people come from miles and miles
To share a glass and change the tides

We’ll find a place to reminisce
Embrace our loves and plant a kiss
On every face that knows that this
Is not they way we’re meant to live

Forgive ourselves for what we’ve done
Forget the crimes lay down the Guns
Tomorrow’s peace can still be won
The future dawns with every sun.

Moggy Lover

This is sexually explicit
Quite disturbing in fact
There’s a women in Chiswick
With a hundred black cats

She bought the first one at seven
With a with pound that she found
Now theirs cats on the ceiling
And theirs cats in the lounge

Black Cats in her pockets
Black Cats in her hair
Black Cats in her coffee
Damn Cats everywhere.


She’s a doctor of physics
With no grasp of the stars
And I saw through her gimmick
When she took off her bra

I’d could say she’s not special
But why lie to yourself
I was bad for her image
She was bad for my health

Day dreams in her diary
Day dreams in her stare
Day dreams on her pillow
Damn Dreams everywhere


We we’re drunk and complicit
In the crimes of our youth
Now we do not exhibit
any love for the truth

So we meet up on Sundays
When her husbands at church
Pull the curtains across
And grind bones till it hurts

Handcuffs on the table
Dark Rum by the chair
Car Keys on the carpet
Damn coins everywhere

My first day at school

“Do you believe in the devil?” the black widow said
As she kicked at my friend to make sure she was dead

I replied with a glare of disgust and defeat
And then closed the scared eyes of the girl at my feet .

The cries of the babies howl loud though my ears
I'd cry with them too but I've used up my tears

I watch as the ghosts move the lost from the living
The guns look like toys in the hands of the women.

A boy tries to run but he's caught by the scruff
She hit's him twice hard as if one wasn't enough.

The bandit strolls round shouting curse after curse
My stomach screams empty and lips shake with thirst

A sudden explosion rips concrete and glass
I cover my face from the heat of the blast

The smell of flesh searing and fresh burning wood
Is the last thing I feel for I taste my own blood.

In this place that a cold hearted God has abandoned
I hear a prayer whispered
And silently strangled.

I once saw a film of a far away war
Grey soldiers and ships fighting brave on the shore

My father said Son that's a glorious thing

But there's no glory here
In the dark Beslan gym....

The Death of Me

I’ve wandered far
So far from home
The skies a different blue

My lips can’t write
Or rhymes recite
The smoke I see in you.

This candle’s burnt
He knows his fate
But looks for second chances

She smiles his way
His sea legs sway
and break down as she dances.

I should have lost
This holocaust
I should have bit the bullet

Now every door’s
Like every girl
I feel the need to pull it.

When will I learn
When will I burn
When will the drinks be free

Raise up your glass
Knock that back fast
And toast the death of me



I’ve wandered far
So far from home
The seas a different swim

She called me deep
Five kinds of cheap
All I could do was grin.

The smirk ran cold
I smelt her soul
And sensed a vibe so vicious

She quoted blames
I called her names
It all got quite malicious.

What is the cost
Of coins you toss
What morals can you muster

Does crumbling art
By crumbled hearts
Cause your black eyes to flutter.

Why do you weep
Why can’t I sleep
Why don’t I turn and flee

Are you still here
Swig down that beer
And taste the death of me

Something in the Tea

Arthur Miller came to me inside a boozy dream
He passed a note on which he’d wrote “I wish I was James Dean”

I wrote one back in ink so black the words took on new meaning
It said “Arthur my pen is dry and I can’t shake this feeling”

Then someone whispered in my ear "Is this the train to reason?"
I looked at him and offered him gin though brandy was in season

He talked of of signs and Nazca lines I loved him like a brother
The sun came up he’d talked too much so I’d laid with another


Wheels shifted gears I’d aged ten years but looked like I’d gained twenty
The glass was full and flowing but my mind was drown and empty

Two children played around the grave of poems I had written
A simple cross to mark the loss of daydreams I'd once spitten


It struck me hard when that scene passed and I was east of Saturn
I saw the world from such a height I thought I’d found a pattern

Then God showed up and told me “Son I don’t believe in Jesus”
But wish to hell someone would tell these misinformed believers

The moon came round as I split town and headed for the city
Those fishnet tights in neon lights I’d always found them pretty

I've seen some things to make heads spin but never danced with perfect
They say that sin is communist and if so can’t we share it


Another time a different face I’d lost my hair and marbles
The floors awash with autographs and borrowed hotel bibles

Champagne on ice and games of dice unfinished and unspoken
This honest theif with lung of leaf and teeth ground down and broken

The Dutch

“Every cigarette has a point” she said
I rolled my eyes and wrote

A line about how right she was
although she didn't smoke.

Another time, a different place
I’d pull out all the stops

Write notes and do the pots for her
while she was down the shops.

But I don’t play the game these days
or feel the urge to thank her

And from the outside looking in
I must seem like a wanker.

I maybe am
I understand
But fuck you twice for saying

I did not take your name in vain
When your ego was swaying.

The Doctor said “Get thee to bed”
“And take these with your lunch”

“Your smile is fake
“Your fingers shake”
“I think you’ve got the Dutch”

The Last Days of Decadence

When the champagne flutes sing empty
and the cocaine mirrors crack

When the Chinese food tastes like week old gruel
When your lungs are old and black.

Will you sit with tea and biscuits
On a night that’s yet to pass

Reminisce these days of Decadence
when your lips touched every glass.

Will you smell that marijuana
Like you smoked it yesterday

All the tales you spun with the long lost friends
You hoped would not fade away.

Will your eyes ignite and sparkle
At the thought every kiss

All the ones whose name escapes you
And the few that you still miss.

Will the music still be flooding
From the carpet to the roof

Will you raise your hands to the songs you sang
In the dancehalls of your youth.

Will you still embrace desire
Will your heart still beat your head

Will you lie with lust and feeling
In your lovers noisy bed.

Will you sleep with peaceful conscience
That you fought on sides of right

Will you rest on withered laurels
or keep raging at the light.

Will you dream of words unfinished
Will the dark clouds rain regret

Will those carefree days of decadence
be the last thing you forget.

Bucket Kicker

Dead in cashmere
as I cradle my beer
Crying ladles of tears
on the inside

Dead as you are
Just a slave to the bar
and the scar on your heart
that you can’t hide.

Dead on your feet
With no hope of relief
From  the Jaws of defeat
I hear grinding

Dead in the chair
You see Death everywhere
But you’re too cool to care
That you’re dying.

Gung-ho till the grave

The gravy train is rolling through the streets of Babylon
My whisky arm is tired but I’ll toast a protest song

There’s Thunder on the mountain (or at least that’s what Bob says)
He prunes a pencil moustache as he mourns our wicked ways.

I feel like terrorizing, blowing up some party balloons
Go dancing in the desert with the girl who studies moons

My blood is thick and salty; I should drink some water down
Her eyes show no reflection, she’s a vampire on the town.

I’m down ten cigarettes but I’ve got ten more left to smoke
Your killers come with smiles; they feed you pies and watch you choke

They talk of liberty but liberty is bought and sold
The price of human life is not as precious as the gold.

A howling wind is whistling, through my window I see lust
Affairs and misdemeanours, still a man does what he must.

My sleeves are full of rabbits and I’ve got a bag of tricks
Don’t make plans for tomorrow, it’s the great Apocalypse!

I’ll leave the dirty dishes to go mouldy on the sink
I’d paint the ceiling purple but I need this time to think.

The workers are sleep walking to the desktop and the lathe
A soldier bites his lip and writes 'I'm gung ho till the grave'

Write a pretty proper poem

Breathless eyes
She beckons me

Her innocence
envelops me

My strangled soul
My black hearts plea

To part her lips
by Olive trees.


Breathless words
She burns for me

The sunlight splits
as shadows meet

With guiding hands
Our passions weave

In rhyme and time
We buck and breathe.

Times

I lit up a Joint in nineteen ninety six
and I cannot recall a damn thing ever since

There’ve been drinks
There’ve been laughs
and some dancing I think...

But I’m not sure that it all wasn’t dreaming.


My memory has shrank to the size of a pea
Every woman I’ve loved is a mystery to me

I’ve forgotten their names
and the taste of their kiss
Though I know in my heart I was grateful.

Villanelle Villainy

I killed a Man
Boiled up his wife
Plucked out my fork
Sharpened my knife

Sliced off a cut
Of thick Rich Meat

The taste
Sublime!
It can’t be beat.

I must confess
I ate the teats

Sucked blood
and bones
through leaner weeks

The brains
Quite Strange
But nice with leeks

Her two fried Eggs
On toasted cheeks