Red Letter Days

Let the dust settle down

Let the air rush in

The fury and the sound

To bear anything

I have ten thousand pounds

And it rests on a king

If I pull out an ace

I’ll ruin everything

It’s a hard, hard place

When you’ve everything to win

And you’re in the wrong place

To even begin

You’re on a rock out in space

Circling the moon

And you fall from grace

Though you’re born with a silver spoon

It’s a hundred lives

All traced back to one

Just the circus of the humans

All under the sun

It’s a red letter day

And a star crossed bun

That you bake in the oven

And you give to someone

The tree lines are endless

And the birds circle round

The bridges and the pigeons rattle with sound

The banks of the river back up in green

And you think you should shoot them

There are ten thousand actors
and hundreds of scenes

And ten thousand lives
All condensed into one
The red letter lives lived under the sun

They bring you the chapters

To their latest books

You read them, close them

Give them a second look

There are ten thousand pages

And ten measly words

That mean anything to you

Beyond swollen dead birds

She used to eat roses

She used to eat roses

For the feel of love

To imbibe in her body

The rich sensual stuff

To embalm by her tongue

The death roll of arms

The dying of the light

In the passionate night’s charms

She used to eat roses I’m told

Those figures in poses

All wrapped up in gold

Glowing in the prescience of a dream

But her roses were not what they seemed

Now that she’s grown and tasted love

And lost love in the passing wind

She grows roses in her garden

Tends them with her green fingers

Bruised down to the bone

The constant feeling of earth and weed

We must remove what we don’t need

After brutality the rose may grow

Unimpeded, only after the brutal blow

She used to eat roses I know

Now she sits in her garden,

Where row after row

She watches the breeze blow

through her roses

The house of the Wolf

All the houses are dug like wolverines

The opening lines of smug underlings

Fall by the wayside of a certain despair

They know no happy endings

They forgo repair

I salute the happy cats

The bold bright eyes

The pigs even fly

Above their sties

And such are the cornered hues

When heaven lets go her deluge

Upon the unsuspecting folk

Dragged out and beaten put in yoke

I looked for humility in the hands of those I knew

Looked for a caring touch, but they were few

The salad days are over too

And looking back now I’m older

It seems colder there though almost new

The lucky ones with tickets to this life

Get to ride the train without much strife

Those of us without the fare

must dodge the inspector

When he comes to claim his ware

We must slip between the tracks, jump the carriages

Hold on tight to cracks, as the train rumbles past

Like thunder we shall ride the lightning last

Some of us must choose marriage

For that is the building block of society

By that token you earn your keep

In the land of peaceful sleep

And yet if you choose to rebel

What is there left which you can sell?

Nobody wants what you can give

A humorous life is what you live

Then is it better to live in drama

Of the fading corpse?

You know the deal, you’ve seen the scene

In the movie of course

It will be a re-run, of such pride eroding toil

That would break the back of camels

Sent out to walk on sandy soil

It would be a desert dry

And yet I think that I could try

For there is something left in the sky or land

That speaks of rain

And then a little rain could come

And freshen up the hopes of one

Whose confidence had been hard done

Under such a blazing sun

Silver Bullets

Your silver bullets have not killed me yet
Meet me in the morning
In the land of no regret
Shoot me dead at midnight
When I am the beast and yet
The werewolf in the wardrobe is not dressed to kill
But easy to forget

Sometimes I like to dress up. Halloween spook
Or crazy vet
Your silver bullets hit me
In the centre of the chest
Luckily my heart had moved
To my mouth or maybe my feet
You left me there in a pool of blood
As the moonlight swam in your eyes
And all those silver fish of lies
Came out about the carpet

You left me there in the moonlight
Your silver bullets in my chest
A stake through my heart
A crucifix to digest
But I woke up to smell the coffee
Your silver bullets haven't killed me yet

People of the setting sun

People of the setting sun
Look upon what you have done
The beauty fades in your eyes
Look once into their dying skies

People of the setting sun
I have come to walk among
The fire branded soulful ones
Out in the street as night comes

See their flags sail high
In the western breeze
Hear their trumpets sound retreat
To the Mountains and the trees

Know the customs of the Hun
People of the setting sun
East meets West invested in
The bloody tide of Hungry skin

Far beneath where shadows shun
All the curtain calls begun
The cast walk out on to the stage
The setting scene for another age

Open up the cuts which run
Deep red blood of dying sun
Flowing from the mother
Down to her son
In the streets, the budding streets
People of the setting Sun

Ladles of Letters, Sandals of Sand

What light through adjacent window breaks?
Smother me in all your kisses speak
Of soft nothings in my ear
Gertrude was my love in all the wild west
My Wind in all the eves
She spoke as angels do from bed clothes
Irons the sheet music of  METAL DAWN
rOBOTS KNELT WHEN SHE OPENED
Her mouth to yawn
Yes she was queen bee to me

The moths and spiders knew her as Frank
They stole her ignition keys
St Agnes and Ignacio stank
Of the filthy knowledge they were rich in

And blue bottle flies sang her tune
Above a jazz city under a full moon
All interstate numbers were re-registered DOOM
As Columbus fingered the jury

He spoke without looking blind was his faith
His East was his West, phenomenologically obtuse
Dialectical materialism versus un-real proof
THat God is a sandwich and love is his roof

Because in the house of the sung out praise
All oil paintings are dripping with the last days
The sign of the times, The Zeds in a road
That Zig-Zag like a yellow brick trail to Oz

The Label of Love

Something in the blue slit of sky
Something there beneath the horses hoof
Trodden into the mud a foot print of proof
That love lives, in its many colours
In its perennial return as a weed in the garden of Eden
But who calls love a weed?
Most call it a rose, and tend to it nurture it
But is this passion?
This thorny crown of roses we grow
Is it this sex that pushes up all the daisies?
This unearthing of the forgotten death
We sweep under the carpet
Speak of in hushed breath
In quiet tones when we are alone
And face what passes for fear
Of ourselves