Monday, January 25, 2010

Potassium Cyanide is Bad for Health

Delightfully dead – like the rain

Like you said – it’s all in vain

Mad and numb and thundered down

And there’s my face – mocking like a clown

Ugly me, the masks were better

Where’s my chain? Oh, where’s my fetter?

And then the fire, sacred and profane

And saints shall whistle to a God, insane

And light is mother and rain brings songs

And home is where my coffin belongs

Now let me dance with my twisted head

For hope is hatred and the trees are dead

Staring down the graves where corpses moan

Deep inside, there’s a telephone

That never rang for a thousand year

The gallows are galleries where blackbirds cheer

Holy books being read

Holy tears being shed

Holy wishes being wished

Holy cockroaches being squished

Dear reader, it’s hidden now

Dear preacher, take a bow

Dear doctor, your medicine cures

Dear monster, I'm all yours

Like I said, it’s all gone by

Close your ears – it’s all a lie!

Words are worthless and rhymes are fake

The snake ate the frog, but who ate the cake?

Torn pages and torn roots and torn flesh and torn blood and torn everything and torn nothing and everything and nothing and nothing and everything and thereby hangs a tale

Kings and Aces

Divine Graces

Queens and Knaves

Fever raves

Dancing with the flame

Shameless, like shame

I know who you are

And everything else is a distant blur….


Like Eden

All these prayers…

Darkness stares

From beneath the stairs

Honestly, who cares?

Dead blankets

Dead trumpets

Dead sunsets

The dead moon masturbates

“Hey, you remember the pain of Resurrection as and when it happened?”

Nah, I was way too busy getting my pencil sharpened

“Do you remember anything else?”

Nothing, but for some distant ringing bells

And of a neonlit sign that read ‘Sex Sells’

And of a warrior princess named Sylvia Plath

And of a storm that left behind flowers in its aftermath

And of blood dripping from a bee-hive

And of a priest named Bob Dylan who died in 1965

And of a god named God who was nothing but a god

And of the Whore of Babylon whose breasts I pawed

And of those creatures of creation – inherently flawed

And of that August-Childhood-Rain that left me awed….

Okay, so now I’m trapped, never to be free

Look into my eyes – can you see me?

And now that all the vows are broken

You can take my love – it’s just a false token

And you can take whatever you want

Bread and butter, dick and cunt

And whatever else, as you may please

As for this breaking down – it’ll never cease…

Finally, it’s time to go

Beyond the pitch-black rainbow

You can either win, or you can lose

Or else, like me, you can choose not to choose…..

Tricked? Aye!

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