God sits on his gem encrusted throne
And watches the world cup
He plants his foot firmly on the heads
Of the subservient dead
And as his infinite wisdom allows
The team he favours to score
His loyal subjects raise their voices
In thanksgiving

On the other side of the world
A child cries out in thirst

Go looks down and says

How dare you ask me for water
When you have tears all over your face?

The priest looks up
Asking the open sky to provide insight and direction
Populating his universe with disapproving father figures

The scientist looks down
Searching for absolute truths hidden by the earth
Catching shadows in bottles and giving them names

The priest looks up
The scientist looks down
But only the philosopher has his eyes open

Running through life
As if in a race
Is pretty silly
There are no winners here
Just people who die slightly later

So excuse me
Whilst I park my bicycle
And look over the edge
Trying to see what lies ahead
Or at least catch a glimpse of the leaders

Some people say
you feel most alive moments from death.
Maybe it is this philosophy
which drives the swollen-eyed
disgruntled teenagers
with hate in their hearts and scars on their wrists
to add to their macabre collections.
When I meet death?
I’m going to crane kick his ugly face.

Tyres screeching on the A69
And like the dew
On my heated rear window
Gone in a flash

It’s not all bad

I met a girl today
Crouched in a café
Sheltering from the ice
Forming on the soles of our boots

You would’ve liked her

But I excused myself
Said my goodbyes
And pounded across the cobbles
Until I reached the bed you share with so many others

I brought you some flowers

Shaken around
Like the loose baccy
At the bottom of the box
Run aground

Three thirty three
And the songs have started
Early birds catching words
Cheery *******

And at four in the morning
When the buzz is wearing off
I shake,
             Rattle
                       And roll
Stifle a cough