In February I bought some opium incense 

Didn't know that that was once your brand

Each Solstice I`d spark it to erase the scent

Of that cold and sadistic man.

You healed your bruises with cigarettes

And drove for hours through that fog

To be where there were no cruel epithets

Where men wouldn't sniff you out like dogs.

If just once you'd told me that you

Don't like men who treat you like dirt

Who slipped you drugs intended to seduce 

That burrowed deep and caused you hurt

Which often leads to a disgrace

You learned to hide all the contempt

Instead of celebrating your face 

You`d lend it out to each of them.

I wonder how the Pharaoh knew

He had to save himself for you

And when I got to take his place

I`d praise the years that burned his face.....

Dismal

"If you want a picture of the future,imagine a boot stamping on a human face- for ever."

Dream Machine

"You can have any colour,as long as it`s black"
 That`s what Henry Ford said in nineteen ten
 But I`m not so sure............
 That he wasn`t talking about the minds of men
 Who were brainwashed and trained just for an attack.

 These routes are a map of their emotional destinations
 But a map is not the territory in my estimation
 So do yourself a favour,and let the path grow over
 Let the bubbles settle in the bottom of the kettle
 And all of that calcium will fertilise the clover.

 You can landscape Eden`s garden all you want
 With a spade and a shovel and a forkful of detente
 So let that path grow over,and do yourself a favour
 Let the old ways be lost.................
 And find a new ideology to follow and savour.

The circuit

   He awoke with a start and sat up in bed,eyes open.If someone had spoken,it could only be her.
   People who talk in their sleep can`t help but say true things,the truths they have inside them.It was impossible to tell lies or stretch the truth in a dream state,because one is defenceless when asleep,as helpless and innocent as a child.
   A man can live a hundred years at a woman`s side,sleep with her,have children with her,breathe the same air as her,and think he knows her as well as humanly possible,and still,in the end,feel as though he never really knows what she is like deep inside.
 

 

The Smoke

  So London was calling from a far away town
  The spires and the steeples,and all of the people
  The dust and the rush...the smiles and the frowns
  And inky black taxis.....scurrying like beetles.

  A magnet for magpies,both the young and the old
  Raven dark strangers seeking streets paved with gold
  Like flotsam and jetsam caught down by the quays
  Fallen fruit on the ground under the Tyburn tree.

  Well,a walk down the banks of Old Father Thames
  Whilst watching the red sun descend and descend
  Can be a magical place...a start to a story
 `Cos one can`t put one`s arms around a memory.

 

4 lines of burning fire

Oh Lord of Flies repeat repeat
For this is the time of the horses feet
As the riders gallop
We stare at the eclipse
Dazzled.......Blinded......
Surfing our own apocalypse.

Steel Eagle

If we each had a black box that can show what`s inside
Those clouds would be lifted
Or perhaps
Before flesh became twisted
Those sable dark feelings could be pushed to one side.

Now I know in the past there have been some events
Known just by some numbers.....
Maybe 370
That rend a steel bird asunder
Caused by a blind pilot depressed by his descent.

We all have our daemons...some have more than a few
To drag us six feet under
Torn off at the lid
Well...I just wanna rhumba
Or at least dance with the Devil as he glides out of view.