habitat for angry things
his face is a contortionists *******
his fists flex through three hundred versions
of ready but are rendered immaculate by
the thought that binds him to this difficult maze
that there's got to be a way out
there is a light at the end of the tunnel

he suffers from smaller and smaller
versions of self esteem
and as that window slowly closes
his innermost thought is
that someone somewhere holds the key
that somehow at the last possible possum of a second
she will jump out of yonder shrubbery
and save the day
so rather than show the ever watching world
his apparent weaknesses
he will wait for her

reality is playing dead today
and all the goth girls say in
horrible unison
that your cute and all but
i don't date outside my species
could ***** Mae have been less cruel
she wont be coming to save anyone
not even herself

habitat for angry things
his face contorts with the simple pleasures of destruction
and dances with glee over the graves of the once defeated
but in the small hidden room of his soul
he sits in his discomfort chair
and works the meat of his sorrows
with a weeping
a terrible weeping
that fills the cathedral of his hearts broken dream

like a photograph folded in upon itself
one image is the end
one the beginning
but  only the blade separates

and that sound of weeping
that awful sound of weeping
that goes on for hours
that goes on for years
benith it is the sound of creatures
that defy
that are unspeakable
sharp little monsters of thought and feeling
that are contortions of rage
etched forever into his soul

he is buried there in the quiet cemetery
with his rages and sorrows replete
with his soul intact
forever to be in that small dark room
working the meat of his regrets
never to know the solace of her hand
never to know the freedom of forgiveness
it is in his hand
in smaller and smaller versions

bohemian in appearance
his narrow shoes and frilly jacket
are useless in the driving rain
his careworn expression
gave way to alarm
as the depths of depravity
became the fixation of his
neoclassic clique of mouthpeice's
they repeat word for word
the distorted lens and its bent descriptions
they surely the first to be on camera
moments into his meltdown
his bohemian woman
is lead to the gallows by the
politically correct daughters of the
american revolution
they clip her nails and paint them
patriotic colors
but are rebuffed when they go to shave
the star spangled into her crotch hair
aint no revolution happenin down there sweetcheeks
so she battles to beat the band
and wins one for dready's everywhere
you can dictate alot of things
but honeybunches bedroom ain't one of em
his bohemian style looks faded and grey
in the modern light of day
but given the choices
he beats pre-processed sliced cheese product
by a frilly jackets mile

and that shadow passes
like shadows do
and i drift awake to find your smile waiting for me
grab up whats left of our castle of sand
and explode onto the road
cause tomorrow never shines as bright
as that special yesterday
like a penny that gets tossed
like a shinny piece of rain
it just keeps fallin and flying
keeps the heart going
and your smile is all i really need
don't know where we going but we going in style
you wrapped in your Tye-dye blanket
and me in
my Walt Whitman hat
we gonna dance on distant beaches
we gonna tickle eachother on far off mountain tops
we gonna cheer the world on
from our armchairs
and smile for all the beautiful things we can find
cause shadows always come to an end
and that shadow has nearly passed us by
so lets grab up our bits and pieces
and see where that road takes us
see who we can find
baby lets dance on distant beaches
tickle each-other on far away mountaintops
and sleep in the forgiving arms of foreign lush forest

there is some nineteen twenty's blues
playin far too loud on the turntable
and there in the distance
a train horn lends itself to the moment
i run off a few lines
that are just as empty

looks like heaven
but its not
the world is no different
here than it is in your silent room
i would give anything to be there
in your room
perhaps we could talk till dawn
bout George Sanders
Charles Butterworth
and all the big ones
pills
he shot himself
pills
car accident
pills

jez left this morning
she said she needed some time
that relationships are too complex
and she needs to think
and didn't like the idea that
i don't want to marry her
i think
i just no longer have enough faith
that she or anyone could stay
not trade me in for a needle full of drugs
not trade me in for something faster newer
a better model

there is no magic left
i can still dance on the sand till the tide comes in
but there's no magic
shopping carts chase
but its just a lone set of strings
played slow
and deep
like tears

there is some nineteen twenty's blues
playing far too loud on the turntable
but even the five bottles of wine
haven't set the past out to sea
think i should go now
before i say something foolish

the spanish seaside town
as the sun sets
is golden to the eye
and warm to the soul
full of life
and beauty
did not seek this place
but fate sought it for me
she came out of the west
and i was captured the moment i beheld her

spanish goddess
her smile captivates
exquisite true beauty
in the glow of her laugh
with that one small gesture
she is pure sunshine
she is tender and true love
she heals the heart
and frees the soul
spanish goddess
her dark eyes a cage
of smouldering passions
and gentle fires of deep and true loves

spanish goddess
her smile
haunts me
such beauty cannot be contained in my heart
such absolute and mesmerizing perfection
cannot be beheld in such a small place
as one mans simple soul

spanish goddess
i am riven by you and nursed back by you
i am torn apart and mended by you
i am created and destroyed
all in the single moment i am graced by the sweet embrace
of even a mere glance with the touch of a smile of yours

spanish goddess
please please do not let me awaken
from this beautiful dream
let me be forever here
in spanish seaside town
at the setting of the sun
in the perfection of your attentions and kindness
with your beauty and warmth
that is heaven
in every sense of the word

spanish goddess
you have forever changed me
from a lost soul
without hope or direction
to the captain of my future
forever to seek safe harbor
in a spanish seaside town
forever more to thirst for your smile
for your laugh
for you

she breaths
and the shadow of her hours
pass like rain
falling
shatter on the senses softly
like her words
they penetrate with such tender care
they swallow your heart with such slow and sweet thought
and she breaths
and you know she is near
you can feel the heat
you can sense the reality of her

she breaths
and in the exhalation gives life to the creatures
that haunt the dark places in each mans mind
the twisted thing that has no face
the thing that is all teeth
feeds on the soul
she breaths and the cold air is humbled by her presence
death fears her coming

everybody is chatting in the puzzle house
about her narrow mouth
and the spider she ate
her bent frame vomits sounds like pleasure or pain
slow open of her bluejean legs reveals nothing
but implies everything
he barks like a small dog
at the end of his mental leash
and he runs round in a quick circle and
squats before her spread and lets loose
wagging his virtual tail

the madmen run the place
and you can see it in their eyes
they write their version of history
on the walls
nobody can read it
sounds like gibberish
and thats one of the requirements of the job
is to be able to confuse
while looking dignified
at the puzzle house door

the puzzle is the mind
and nothing is more puzzling to me
than what she had in mind bringing me here
its a fun place
with books and games
laughter and joys
medications and dark nurse's
filled with murderous intents
escape the puzzle house if you dare