Throw back

It all began in the snow storm
The mint snow glistened like money
I said I wish life was this soft
She said you know it is honey

The dream of Geronitis was smitten
By the half seagull ghosts who were bitten
By the bug at the end of the cotton wool thread
When you know what you seemed was a mirror to the dead

Come black beads, tie your goose fat wives
Upon the bed leg
Throw back the tides of guiltless lives
Back into the faces of the unsaid

Night Bus

Night bus, night bus coming down the road

Coming like a troubled truss, for our woes to unload

Night bus in the water, in the river with the toad

Night bus its double trust, all your thoughts its knowed

Night bus on the Danube, down Bartók Béla, crossing near to Blaha Lujza utca

Crossing over the border, crossing lines and crossing hairs

To get her in your sight

Yet you know she!s not the target

Target of the night

Night bus rolling strongly like an unstoppable force

Filling with the people of the party

Flowing out like a river’s course

Filling up like sardines

Filling up like kippers,

Making me sleep your night bus dreams

While I put on my slippers

Getting out in the rain, in the heart filled night

In the mountains of my youth

The moon burns big and bright

In the architecture of desire, the buildings are taking shape

They fall and quake into one another

A new home to make

Night bus brewing merrily,

Like a kettle a boil

Steaming down the wet rainy streets

With the night busman’s toil

This kind of love

I don't believe in this kind of love

The kind that starts with a kiss

You are like a blue bottled fly

Buzzing around in a bottle of piss

I don't believe in organized religion

Nor the voice’s call from above

What if I did? I would fall into Oblivion

No, I don't believe in this kind of love

I don't have hours to waste in the bedroom

To spend on the desk or the ironing board

I don't have days to paste in your gloom

Or to paint white varnish over vampire hoards

I am a sick man of heaven

I am pirate of certain death

I have eleven tigers in the basement

And they are all raging holding their breath

I am a giant of Germanic literature

Fooling my guardian angel in step

She is a giant of cemetery censure

She will not allow me to see my own death

There are two fuses broken in the basement

One is the love of everything ordinary

The other is ordinance of every kind of love

And if you leave me I will fix the circuitry

But that still won't light up all of heaven above

I am a sick man full of pestilence and war

I hold in my hands the keys to the poor

I have locked them from riches and gold

I'm sorry they never told me the time to let go

I have a fire truck spitting its fire

I have a lake full of burning desire

I walk right through it, even on the water

Just to get a glimpse of Moses' daughter

Desire

If I could say what I really wanted
Oh what a world that would be
One in which nobody wanted to pressurize me
One in which it is clear to see
What is important and what is just
The flotsam floating on the sea

If only such life sucking corals didn't tear
At my knee
When I try the shallow waters and wade into the beach
Into the inner lands of uncertainty

Where it is safer you might have thought
To be on dry land
Crossing my Ts
Dotting my 'i's
And drawing up noughts

Than out, out in the treachery of the wide open ocean
Where freedom hails the sharks from their homes
In caves beneath the surface emotions

Where jellyfish stingers of regret or guilt
Can pull down into the sinkhole
The very galleons they have built

That slow turtles of a mild day's cares
Come drifting by without hurry
Without trouble just the joy of being there
And then you ask me
Is this what you want??

Do I want life on an ocean of calm
Or one of boiling tumult?
I can tell you I want neither
Neither if they either cause you harm
But mostly I see no way out
Of such suffering
We are the pigs or the chickens
on Animal Farm

It is as inevitable as death and taxes
And sometimes it seems such is the weight of this
And yet we both are free are we not?
Both free to choose,
But not to love
Because that is paramount
Of top most concern
That I love you, you and, and you do not scorn
No I believe in the potential of this love
It is just I do not believe in the current flow between us
Sometimes it is DC, Sometimes AC and I must
Confess I turn off the power
When you blow a fuse in the basement
I can't find the fuse box, I'm looking in the medicine cabinet
Search for something to heal the ailment
In my soul or your soul
But sometimes I get confused which fuse is blown
Who I need to fix you or I
When you lose control
And let the house plants fly

I wonder what nether land of unearthly desire
I have stumbled upon
Or cut my hand
I watch it bleed in to your fire
And blood burns bitter not sweet
When it feels the unnatural heat
And sometimes it can no longer flow
Like a candle gone out
After the last blow
After all the screams and shouts
I cannot know
Which side of Eden I am about
Or whether to hold on
Or just let go
But I can't

The city lights

All of these mysteries come circling like vultures
Trying to braid art into our many cultures
Seeing what the vibrato voice can really do
Try looking down the wishing well
You will see myself with you

Even when the weather's holy
As a sacred cow
And the brown paper bag
Is tethered to the crow
Even then my monopoly
On you is far from swift
I can hold you in my hands
But you cannot be my gift

Even when I see you together
With that other man
I fall between the pavement cracks
And my legs won't stand
Even when I hurt so bad
I can barely tell
One side of Trinidad from the other side of hell

This place is making me a little sick in the head
Like a feather from the crow flying from the land of the dead
Even when the weather's bad I remember the words you said
That we would be together through the nights
Through the streets
Through all the nights and streets
And the city lights that sped

up to you

Dead weights
In islands of my mind
Songs listing
Like Galleons in a storm
An armada of choices
Awash with indiscretion
Garlands of hubris
To crown myself in

The Fs and Rs
Are Happy Gs
Jest, it is Just
Ket, cat
Caterine, the rine
Of the cat

Nice Sky

Its a nice sky
What colour is it?
A kind of pinky orange, like a fish's scales
It hangs there like a tapestry over
the flats of a certain destiny
High rise in intensity
The dreams of Gherkins brought to courgettes
Ghengus Khan's children
Inadvertently under-esteemed
Until the Empire is just
This painted cloud castle
Where he rides his chariot
Drawing the sun, like he
Drew the close of day
On an age of magic