Wednesday 24 August 2011

I fell out of bed

I don't know what you were thinking,
But then I never know what you're thinking,
Unknowable, oh so inscrutable,
And, lucky you, unfailingly beautiful,
I'll put you on a pedestal,
But doing so I must confess,
If I put you on a pedestal,
It's so I can see up your dress,

I fell out of bed,
Cause of all the ideas in my head,

I never thought it could happen,
That a healthy heart could be flattened,
I find I'm writing pop lyrics,
As a way to lift my spirits,
And I never thought I'd be writing,
Of the eternal feminine,
A treatise on gender panic,
With none of the swear words left in,

I fell out of bed,
Cause of all the ideas in my head,

We two sitting dumbly,
Trying to read each other's thoughts,
Shoving all my crosses,
Into your row of noughts,
You would think we were mummies,
Tongues torn out at the root,
A pair of fun sarcopha-guys,
Wrapped up in our bandage suits,




Throw your arms around the world

Got a lot of love to give you but I need to get a little back,
Make a lot of very poor decisions and I let my chin grow slack,
The world is way beneath me, I wear these gilded wings,
Can't keep it all together, sellotape and pins,
I know you want to take it further but I've always been a dozy sort,
Working without map or compass I'm always lost in thought,
Suspended in the mistral my feet don't touch the ground,
Like an old toothpaste commercial, heaven bound,

Throw your arms around the world.

You know that I'm intoxicated, or my inner ears gone wrong,
Can't keep from keeling over, can't keep my trousers on,
The day is way beneath me; mundane, quotidian,
I'm basking in the warmth of your reflection,
Standing over the precipice, the abyss looks into me,
The way it coughs and stutters, I'm not sure what it sees,
The world is way beneath me, no thoughts of suicide,
You're not on earth forever, enjoy the ride,

Throw your arms around the world,

What is a man?

Slugs and snails,
Breath that's stale,
Hard bitten nails,
On wandering hands,
He lies when he smiles,
And he smiles with his eyes,
And his smile is a mile,
Of broken ground,

Tell me if you can,
What is a man?

Knows what he wants,
Nose out of joint,
As he presses the point,
Home or away,
Running on empty,
Water-logged, sedimentary,
The chain handle tempts me,
To flush him away,

Tell me if you can,
What is a man?

She's pricked and pinned by Cecil Beaton,
He masks her face to find the beauty within,
She thinks love is eating or being eaten,
And the deepest part of a man is his skin

Get me back on my knees again

Gonna tell you a story about a man named John,
Camp old nonsense like a "Carry On",
A much better painter than Paul Simenon,
But sagging like wet dough,
Self-absorbed like a shop-soiled Tampax,
As grey and distance as a telescope with cataracts,
Keep your bum-bags but ditch your anoraks,
Feed him beer, watch him go,

Now I'm defeated babe,
Get me back on my knees again,

Gonna lend you some money, buy up your goodwill,
Cause he has more money that you ever will,
Has a gun in his pocket and fingers in the till,
And a ring on every finger,
His eyes are hollow and his lips are full,
Skin like savlon, hair like wool,
Been nailed more times than a Papal Bull,
Did I mention he's a singer,

Now I'm defeated babe,
Get me back on my knees again,

A modern fantasist, like a tumour on a tin-can,
Arrivest archivist; post-modern bin-man,
Flash Harry in a dirty mac,
Lock up the doubters, Johnny's back,

Saturday 20 August 2011

Empty Jester

Empty Jester

I’m smiling on the lip of the abyss,
What can I possibly think about all this?
I don’t look down when I can look up,
But there’s nothing at the bottom or the top,

The grin on the bridge of a moth’s back,
The smiling eyes are empty and black,
The hollows twinkle, a well in space,
Skull white like the light on your face,

Here’s another empty jester,
A line of ash runs the length of my tongue,
Words ring as hollow as a single gold band,
There’s nothing to say now that you’ve gone,

I’m laughing while the joke is on me,
Tears flow freely in company,
Later the bedroom seems to be so empty,
Your pillow lying lengthwise next to me,

Like Hamlet’s famous dummy,
Empty headed with a trap-door jaw,
Alas, in Wonderland, I knew her well,
Can’t say I know her any more,


Here’s another empty jester,
A line of ash runs the length of my tongue,
Words ring as hollow as single gold band,
There’s nothing to say now that you’ve gone




So Haunt Me

So Haunt Me

I’ve always lived with ghosts,
In every book I’ve ever read,
Leafing clammily through M.R. James’,
Curdling stories of creeping dread,

In every film I’ve ever sat through,
Strange apparitions are bound to appear,
“A Christmas Carol” is my favourite Dickens,
“Hamlet” is always the best Shakespeare,

So haunt me, please haunt me,
Melt into the room in a bed-sheet please,
Haunt me, just haunt me,
I want my hairs to prickle and my blood to freeze,
Haunt me, please haunt me,
I haven’t had enough of you yet, you see,

You haunt me every day, anyway,
I hear your voice, see your smiling face,
Your dressing gown on the back of the bath-room door,
It’s you, not your stuff, I want about the place,

Your clothes are still in the cupboards,
I can still just feel your touch,
Come back and put the wind up me,
I just miss you so very much,

So haunt me, please haunt me,
Melt into the room in a bed-sheet please,
Haunt me, just haunt me,
I want my hairs to prickle and my blood to freeze,
Haunt me, please haunt me,
I haven’t had enough of you yet, you see,




The Heart of Melancholy

The Heart of Melancholy

Here in,
The heart of melancholy,
I can’t see out,
To the mother you’ll never be,
The mountains of Mourn,
Rendered so sketchily,
Scrublands are scumbled,
And scratched out finally,

I’ll see you in the long grass,
With your black hair,
And your dark eyes,
I’ll see you in the long grass,
With your pale skin,
And your dark eyes,

Hearing;
The art of melancholy,
Words fall out,
Of mouths that so readily,
Talk of smiling and angels,
Land so heavy, messily,
Worm-casts on sand,
Emptied out faecally,

I’ll see you in the long grass,
With your black hair,
And your dark eyes,
I’ll see you in the long grass,
With your pale skin,
And your dark eyes,

Witless,
The arsehole of brevity,
Takes my hand,
But never once looks at me,
“Comes to us all”,
I goggle incredibly,
The fuckers a hundred,
Why can’t it be he?

I’ll see you in the long grass,
With your black hair,
And your dark eyes,
I’ll see you in the long grass,
With your pale skin,
And your dark eyes,

Wednesday 10 August 2011

Black Sails

Found her and I married her,
Just in time to,
Watch her fall away,
And I’m cradling the pain,

He waits,
Waits for her return,
Candles gutter as they burn,
He waits,
The old man of the sea,
Black sails ahead of me,

Kicking through the sea-spume,
Doomed and waiting,
For that one black sail,
A hard point against the grey,
Squatting underneath the sun,
A pin-prick sticks,
The needle in the vein,
To carry her away,

He waits,
Waits for her return,
Candles gutter as they burn,
He waits,
The old man of the sea,
Black sails ahead of me,

Skies are bruising,
Dark sails ripple,
Moving now,
Moving nearer,

Darkness spreading,
Over waters,
Bleeding black,
Bleeding darkness,

Stephane Prix-D'Escalier

As I was walking down the stair,
I met a man, who wasn’t there,
I said you must be that esprit d’escalier everyone is always going on about…