We’ve all got strings
Being played
How did I know
It would end this way?
Bust a lip with black eyes
Broken nose
Packs of ice
Resting on my bones
Till another fight
When will my strings
Be played right
Trying not to be a victim
But I’m feeling dark tonight
One drink for the road
This road I’m on
Mustn’t lose my grip
On the wheel, heading through
A town I know will never heal
Standing against another tidal wave
Taken to my knees again
Fingers curled to grip
The sand that sinks beneath
Losing self and time
Another landslide
A storm waiting
To fall from my eyes
But I’m sad and left bone dry
Trademark
Cigarettes, smoking
An extension of my cancerous sadness
My poetry aint mine
Without the ash at the end of the line
Visions of smoke inhaled
Another hammer to my coffin nail
My body unveiled just as I exhaled
A puff of smoke, another trail
Disappearing before I can be tailed
Setting fire to paper every hour
So that your lungs can harbour resentment
A symbol of beginnings and endings
Drifting clouds of smoke
Burning this moment into ash
A cemetery of butt ends
To remind you that your lungs are black
I’ve got a paper dog
inside my head
leading me astray
a graveyard of cigarette butts
Buried in ashes of grey
the doctors said…
Well, I don’t listen to what they say
and I’ve fallen in and out of love
in less than a day
and this paper dog
Is spewing it’s guts
In my brain
Humping paper dolls
Trying to bust a nut
I should get him done
But…
He’s a friend.
The bird on the wire
She hears the songs that transpire
Electricity in her feet
She knows
She’s the dinosaur
Extinction did not defeat
Sit and listen to
The sound of the pitter patter
That abounds
Like constant white noise
Asserting no significant attention
Just the buzz of human relations
Like the wings of a bee
Humming the language of nations
Industrious working of this socialisation
Working its way through the psyche
Of many generations
While clowns look to the clouds
With wisdom in their jest
And hearts of lions pounding in their chest
Perhaps detained
But noticing every freedom
Has it’s own cage
And seeing that maybe
As caged birds flaps their wings
Can a man surely dare to dream?
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