.did you spendlast night diggingin my graveyard of a chest?i seem to have a holethis morning -where did you putyour heart youbitch, i know youmust have one theresomewhere,and when the light letsitself in throughmy bedroom curtains,i will always sayget fuckedfuck offfuck yougo fuck upsomeone else,do you still crackyour knuckles when you'reangry? take twosugars with yourtea, carry a scythe?well i carry the devilin from the car when he's tootired to walk, he tugsat my sleeve with his littlered fists, says i know howhard it is to get closureon somethingthat makes you feelripped wide open, mate,now carry me in i'm tootired for all this tonight -oh, one more thing,the shore can never leavethe seano matter how hardit tries, again andagain, you're going to getfucked by the current,so just go with the flowit gets better,spend the rest of yourlife laying in thatbed you made,spend the rest of yo
.i wantto know about god,which namehe would prefer to go byi want to knowabout the stairwayup to heaven,and why sliding downthe bannister into hellis much more fun(think i tried to climb a step that wasn't there, think i might have died more than once)
.i think in fingerprints and teeth,in skin and lips,i'll try remember better, sir,rubber wrists, a vial?a concrete sore on the flesh of the earth,eats away at the world til it's achingall over - muscle turns to dust andthe clocks self-destruct, i bought afake bouquet -i know the day the month the time,but i don't want -is there some medicine for this?some blue and green, some bittertaste? a stitch or two, some sleep, sometime to grieve, just somethingcheap,psychology and torture?yes we do hang draw and quarter, pop your braindown over there and i will seewhat i can do, take two at night, come backnext week -about this firein my tongue, how much longer willit last? these days i speak smokesignals no one knows and howit hurts,i'm looking white, i'mburning up -go spendsome time downin the ground andwrite it out,don't be amess(dandelions for eyes, scatter them wide)
.think i'm madas a hatter,just becausei want to sit anddrink tea with the deadfor a whileon a sunday afternoon?just cos i like totrace the patterns inthe woodwork onthe table with my fingerswhen we're talking,yes,something has beenhere before,and it's us,with words so wellused that they're nowdamaged andwe can't even tell whatthey mean anymore(still cramming them into the distance though)
.i noticeyou bite the skin ofyour lip, toowhen you're nervousor have nothing tosay -writing is startingto feel a bitlike a disease -just like your brotherdoesyou know you'reexactly the sameas him -one that all thewords in the worldwon't ever cure -i'll just have toget to know youthat way, i guessno don't walkaway -i want the foxto hunt the hound,the badger to cullthe human(let's take a walk down memory lane, let's see if i can finally ditch you)
.my bedroomsuffocates me,so sometimes i climbout the window andcurl up on theroofinstead,there used to be a treedown the side that kept hisarms open for mebut he said i don't thinkyou're ever gonna knowhow it feels to bemidasor medusa,you know you'vealready got a heartof gold and eyesof stonei said nowyoudon't getto touch me(i can drop down into the alley from here, or sit with the cat like a gargoyle)
.dandelion seeds inthe wind,and they're saying,you know you could dothis too -you need to get outif you're going togrow,don't go blowingyour head off though -(tear yourself away from there, go get set somewhere else just like we do)
.there issomethingabouthow you can makeall the animalspart themselveswith one wave ofyourhand,make them opentheir throats andspeakand i think i willfind you sticking pinsthrough the webbingof a bat's wing,cross legged inthe garden withthe snake aroundmy neck,that's how i'd liketo go(the world will shift, a heart will break away from it's chest, tectonic)
.i walk into the garden at3am, find death digginghis own grave in the middleof my lawn, he says he'sdead to me now, he canjust feel it in his bones,points at the mud and saysdirt is dirtit can't pretend that it'sanything else,oh and i found that peg you lost,it was under the conifer,climbs in covers himself and leavesme standing alone(keeps sending me postcards, i wish you were here)
.i often ask myself questionsand answer them too,maybe tell yourkids this,that i'm the wolf in the woods, i justsaw red and couldn't help it, whatcan i say i've got atemper, i couldn't waitto grip her neck insidemy jaws n shake it, snapit clean, cracked like a twig,you see she was a bitch she was awhore, she had itcoming, with hersweet laugh and her lips, herswaying hips inside, she carrieda rifle in her cloak, she wantedmy pelt for the angry winter,and her old gran? i suckedthe meat fromher lame ribs like she'd have donethe same to mine, i licked mychops and got inbed,had good sweet dreams untilthat axe man, that old drunk,who thought he had some bigger ballscame stumbling in through her frontdoor,they found his gutson the hall floor,and i can stillsmell it amileoff -but what i'm sayingkids, the moral is,there's nothing little bout the amountof red you're gonna see inlife, it's all about whether or notyou've got the stonesto fucking stomach it(
.lies can slipthrough your teethwith ease,the truthgets caught inyour throat(i wish it was a lie, that i'm your flesh and blood and i wish it was the truth, that i hadn't been drinking)
.a mother says to her soncan you feel the world lodgedin your rib? do not tellme you can't, it's right thereand let's not tell godanything about this, let's givehim the silent treatment likehe's giving to us,sometimes i wake up wantingto shred myself into ribbonstie me up in a bow and send myselfto your doorstep with noreturn address and let you deal with it,you're not listening and you're notunderstanding, you're too busytrying to read all the text, buti can go days without speakingone word, got a habit of holding mybreath diving into my own mindfor hours, blue bottomless poolriver veins with the bones of a dreamdrifting through, some stuck on thebanks all dried up and thirsty, thisshark tooth reminds me of you so ipress it in hard, still not one singledrop, a baby raccoon floats by withno life but wide eyes, i know you'llpray the horned god sends himstraight to the sea, drown him outwith that voice that says maybenext year when you search foryourself, yo
.some need to know lifelike the beasts do, the heronthe stray dog the cobra the salmondead in it's stream,but i want to shed out of my skin,don't want to be no white ghost no moreand i met a magician, got rid ofthe dirt in my mind,pulled my memories outof my temple like napkins,made a mess i couldn't clean upon the pavement outside, no tip for him,you're gonna have to excusethe mess in my soul, i wasn'texpecting visitors,been pleading with words for anexplanation, came home late last nightsmelling of someone else's ink,i think i saw the light then buti heard the darkness too, i kicked themout, now it's just me and mycrazy i keep in a tank,watch him grow limbs and climb outover the side, and now sometimeshe sits on my lap and i stroke him,but he's getting too heavy to hold andhe's starting to speak for himself,says don't drink that be goodi need you and you need me and youknow it, i don't think you can evertruly know someone until you can admitto yourself t
.and goddess,this isn't something i cansweat or starve out of me,i'll have to write and it willbe madness,see i've often thought aboutplacing my head in the pestleand mortar, i wonder if i couldgrind out the hell inside, becomea red pulp on the worktop, andeven the oven keeps tutting at me,it's so easy, just open the doorstick your hand in, feel his forkedtongue on your palm,orange lover, youknow you'rea cowardfor thisand it's truethat the dead are never reallysilent, they grunt and they groanin their damp soil sheets,toss and turn overagain(fill the bath with water, and just drop me in it)
.i can almost hearthe soundof everything -foxesweepingon the bodiesof rabbits, idid not meanto, i did notmean -howling andhowling,the deer inthe headlights sayingi told you so(and do you hear that? that's the sound of it all caving in)
.i neverlearned thelanguageof flowers,never knewwhy thenettlespat itswords at mewith venom,why thosegreenforkedtonguesleft asting(i bet the sheep don't lose a wink over the starving wolves, either)
.you still gota heart that beats in halves?a mouth like a bear trap,don't kiss me -that anchor tattooon your foot, it still holding youdown to the earth?that skull on your chest,you still dead in there?i told you i wouldn'tdisappear again,but i kept my eyes fixedon the exit,and if i'm being honesti lied,i spoke in the tongue of my own,i was out of that door like a shotwhat a buzz -a hive full of angry words,queen of the nestfull of hate but the honey issweet when you smoke themall out of the way,get them drunk get themtalking andleaving my mouthin swarms(hope it stings)
.if thesewalls couldtalkthen i'm surethey'd bescreamingget out,burn usdown,we can'tbearto hold youanylonger(been too busy dreaming to get any sleep)
Sweet CornHe shuckedher cleanto the spine.Broke off the gold untilnothingbut the stalk remained;bareand broken open.The ribcage spilledher secretsand gushed her painupon the sheets.She lay in the bloodand wept, for the lieshe had lost.
Barb WireYour barb-wired brainwon't let me in,and I'm getting cuttrying to jumpthe fence.
fourdo not wish upona star, the starsare dead; the skyis filled with corpses
.What do you want to be when you grow up?They ask it like a dare.As if letting your unlikely dreamsslip from the safety of your mindcould bring their owna little closer to reality.
The Family Has Been InformedBullets that are too far away to hear back homeBut words that will forever ring just as loud in my earsDelivered from the lips of a uniformed manThe sympathetic sentence any mother fears to hearI turn away as if ignoring his presenceWill make this unwanted reality go awayBut he repeats that he is sorry for my lossThose words are the last thing I remember of that dayI find myself looking out of the back yard windowOn the swings in the garden I still see my boy playI am bringing drinks out to him and his brothersUnder the sun, on the grass, on endless summer daysThose memories like photographs in frames on the wallNow show my son with a wife and child of his ownA husband and father torn from their loving armsIn to the mass grave-in-waiting of a war zoneHis old bedroom was already a shrine to himEven before his blood soaked deep in to the desert sandsWe waited for him to return from his first tourKnowing the boy we’d said goodbye to would come home a manAlthough
GoodbyeI want to mutter a million things,but they’re catching in my throatAnd my heart is heavy in my chest,with a weight that holds a heavy loadThis weight is not a pound of gold,but rather a pound of worthless rocksAnd now I’m spitting bits of gravelas I try to talk
Glove Slap!I am a shackled man,Links from my head to my toes.Don't even ask how I got them,Man, I don't even know!But one thing is very clear to me,I'll whisper it too...These aren't here to protect me son,They're here to protect you!For if I wasn't chained, If I wasn't locked down tight-I'd have my hands up, Taking you on as my next fight.'Cause all I know is fighting,Either fittin' or spittin'You better take up your stance,Or I'll be startin' the hittin',And ain't no chance for quittin'!No tappin' or the ref stop.Because it's time to teach you,How we really do hip-hop!-Chennie, 12th May 2014
you should be home by nowlast tuesday the house took my hand & said,it's more of a hurricane than a firesince he broke in & burnedmy curtainsmy floorsmy bridgesmy selfbut sometimes I see her with a lighter& she finishes what he didn't do(I think she's afraidof settling in,being quiet)but last tuesday I realized that she kept the lights onto frighten away the bridges & the peopleso no one will come inside& smash the teacups, steal the pipesbecause since he burnt her beds outno one lives there anymore
unfetteredWhen we metI was shoving rootsinto the ground.Anchors braided thickand strong so I couldstretch my dreamstoward the heavens:quivering and fearful intheir green naivete.But you were makingbirds in the palmof your hand,tiny faith-filled wingsfluttering as theylearned the fallfrom your fingertipswasn't that bad,and the ground wasalways softerthan in looked.I buried your memorydeep beneath mein hopes thatI could drink you in,and one dayloose my worrieseven if I could neverlet go of you.
.tonight across the street i sawthe devil sneak into god's garden;he took trowel in hand, planted seedsin the earth, grinned real wide andshut the white gate behind him(gonna come up smelling of roses)