Blues Booze Whatever You Choose

Roaming throughout the city in heat,

Beat and mostly drunk. Bridges burnt down,

Ideas of life and love bedamned

This life, is an eternity

Tall electric monsters wailing from the skies

Rats scamper through the depths of heart

Rats die but unlike me rats do not think of death.

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Waves bring pirates closer to heart

Roach infested heart. Big booming heart.

I’ve seen wolves sniffing at the stale sky

I’ve seen wolves scraping meat off the floors of this chamber within

Even the wolves of the world are going crazy

Surely, these are dark times.

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Dogshit all along the street from here till where the sun sets

One thick Calcutta, thicker than my reddish brown flesh

Showing its ass at god and gasping like a huge whore

With tits pressed against the earth and against the dogshit

On macadam.

In and out of this sinuous monstrosity we wander

We’re bored. We kiss because we are bored.

We rise up to meet the sweaty rainsong skies because we are bored.

We’re all bastard children of boredom that bore us till it got pissed and hurled us out.

This city is bored as well, way more bored than us.

It lies, indifferent to the sweetness and to this pain.

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No dope or alcohol can benumb the soul so much as boredom can

Echelons of fiery whores raped into eternal silence rage through the mind

Trampling the roses of the heart

Ravaging through the virgin tracts of brain

The mind that was once an old wisdom-tree

Shall no more be

What it was.

It’s all a hazy blur of blue

And it’s all so fucking true.

The phonecalls have stopped since a few weeks now

Butcherknives get sharper every passing hour of mourning

And guts get ready for that pure awful battle.

I get goosebumps every now and then

But i’m too strong for all these, i know.

Crowds of fake poets with false teeth and long hair

old lechers with their shiny yellow eyes

staring at little girls who chase butterflies.

The gods should’ve killed them off long long ago

The hookers are chasing my heart down instead

And this fucked music keeps on whirling across the skies

In blue electric fury –

Roaring and ready to unleash hounds from behind the clouds of glorious doom.

Come to me child, let’s forget all these and let me paint you a rainbow instead.   

The bottomline being

If this boredom doesn’t get to you, you will get to it soon enough.

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This strange sound coming up from the centre of the earth

In dreary blue fumes, the sharp bright monotone that gathers pitch

As oceans borrow speech from purple reptiles

And statues loom above rivers

And rivers shoot through neurons in jets of electricity

And before long, spreads throughout

It’s as if festive revolutions have erupted from the sidewalks of the stars

And sidewalks of the moon have burst out through these toxic veins

to wash all the venom off.

 So, then she called and then there was this beam of fresh white light like white flowers in white mornings meeting the darkness of black flowers on black nights and zeroing it all out to get me here, static, with sore bums sore heart sore status quo all puss & blood oozing out and sore boils getting poof! And poof!

(honestly, it feels like being inside a thick fat Tolkien and taking shots at objective neutrality)

Soon, notwithstanding the last kicks and jerks of the light that changes colours and one huge frightening God shakes it all and gulps in all down God who gives all takes all takes all.

And lights were dim

And then the lights were off it the birds came back

And their wings covered even the stars up and sad peace rested on rooftops and sad rain fell on sad streets foggy and deathsome and terribly cold.     

And then there was i and there were the birds a thousand a million birds all silent and ominous just like peace is. Or maybe this is just the fear of burning out speaking.

Whichever it is, i don’t care.

I’m here

The birds are here

The stars are not here

She is there

She is not here.

And then, all is silent

Zenith reaches nadir

Foxes and rabbits sleep between flowers

Flowers have fangs.

Silence freezes the skies up into dark chunks of ether

And it all starts freezing out: roofs, walls, floors, bars, chains: all.

It’s all a massacre, a rebellion, a broad declaration of incensed insolence.

I’m here and I’m living.

And then i’m here and I’m dying

And then i’m here and i’m dead

And then i’m here and i’m not living

And then i’m not here and i am dead.   

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 This sure is a strange world

The disgusting ones get disgusted

The boring ones bored

The frustrating ones frustrated

And the maddening ones pure fucking loony

There was a time i used to cry because of this

And then the time i used to laugh at it

And now it’s all chicken shit and i don’t give a flying duckling.

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Jamboree puking out glowing green love

Senses shitting their load off inside the skull

It’s a like celebration of karma culminating in sacrifice of the soul

The soul, that smells of urine,

and is trapped within this framework of mind body and senses,

notices a little crack on the walls and rushes to get out

And dashes against the walls and everything starts shaking

and bells start tolling and me, trapped within this fatal doom

observes: detached, burning, cold.

Before long, we’re all back to square one and we’re all neurotic stoics

reaching out for photon-life, binary-throbs and magnetic pulsation

oblivious to the creatures with sharply burning eyes that observe us from the murky forests all around with fixed gaze.

And then the anti-loop

The town and the sky changes positions

And moon leans down over the ocean

And it’s all upside down,

Frog-tongues roll forward to let loose an army of flying insects that cover up the sky and thunderclaps roll backwards in fear and awe.

Frogs of the world are fighting against the universe

and are triumphing like a garrison phenomenal heroes. I see them and i grow strong.

Soon it will be my turn.

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Roll calendar roll

Tigers on lemon trees

Postcards for hearts of love

Shaken in pure delight

Taken in by blunt assumptions

A train moves inside my brain

Isn’t that a mighty allure?

All the beauty of the world makes me weep.

Thinking of sad women inside lonely palaces

Beauty to me is associated with a sense of loss and with all the sorrow of the world that perches on the roofs of my heart every night

Ugliness of the world makes me feel like being a part of it

There’s no sorrow or dejection or desolation involved here

Ugliness and me: we’re good friends and we have beer together and we whistle at the nude girls and we get smashed and we feel pretty good about ourselves.

And then of course we shake hands and part ways.

Next, i’m on a homebound train

The train moves inside my brain.

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