In a land of 93 people
lived a preacher and a nun
In a church without a steeple
they professed to 91

The sermon was quite boring
so seven found the door
They left amidst the snoring
leaving only 84

The nun looked to the altar
and the scary hanging Jew
Twice 11 faltered
and that left 62

But the preacher kept on talking
and he didn't skip a line
Then 13 more were walking
leaving only 49

The nun began to worry
as she saw the empty pews
They were leaving in a hurry
by sixes, fours, and twos

A dozen minutes later
they were in the church alone
The ****** masterbater
and his faithful penguin drone

"So what are we supposed to do?"
the preacher asked the nun
They started out with 92
(or was it 91?)

To be honest it was 93
including priest and nun
You'd think that I would know this
as I wrote it in line 1

But the time is getting very late
perhaps I now can sleep
These lines are not so very great
and not so very deep

But they served my shallow purpose
as my eyes begin to close
And since nothing rhymes with purpose
I believe it's time to go

Far off in the distance
I hear her fretful wail
No purpose in resistance
it would be to no avail

Like Sirens from an ancient ode
she heralds my demise
Inviting me to her abode
and all that it implies

As a lamb unto the slaughter
in innocence I go
A manipulated plotter
of a life I could not know

Thus my friend I go to her
and freely seal my fate
I ask that you do not demur
for the hour is getting late

And so I bid the world adieu
and leave this disarray
As for the likes of me and you
there can be no other way

Working on my first folk song*

My demons are many
My angels are few
and the time for redemption
is long overdue
For the songs that we sang
from that merciless pew
were just words from an old
dying tome
But the gates of the garden
are opened at last
and an old voice is calling
me home

So to all of my critics
and all of my friends
I’ve loved every one of you
time and again
But the wheel must turn
from beginning to end
and my time with you
is now fading
For the darkness that
soon overshadows us all
will not long be keeping
me waiting

And finally I must
in good conscience proclaim
that the gods that divide us
are one and the same
And it matters not much
if we call them by name
for the names that we praise
are illusion
For the gods resonate
in reflections of men
and within we will
find absolution

Moses brought the rules
for every sinner saint
and fool
And handed each a portion
of the blame

But a man is only wise
when he begins to realize
that a wise man
never ever plays
the game

Warning! This poem contains foul language and the subject matter is intended for those who share my warped sense of humor (or humour for my European friends). If you are easily offended or devoutly religious, you should probably skip this one. That said, my apologies to Dr. Seuss.



And all the Hos knew there
was something quite odd
about this strange little
self-professed servant
of God



Father Xmas

Every ** down in Hoville
liked ******* a lot
but the Priest who lived
just north of Hoville did not

The Priest hated *******
(at least with the women)
He much preferred cute
little boys for his sinnin'

Why he was so nasty
and hateful and sly
I guess no one really
could understand why

Some said he was born
with only one ball
Some said that his shorts
were two sizes too small

But whatever the reason
his shorts or his *****
He hated the Hos
both the tall and the small

'When the clocks strike eleven
I know just what they’ll do
They will take off their clothes
and commence a ** *****'

'And they’ll ***** and they’ll *****
till their screwers are sore
Then they’ll all take a break
and start ******* some more'

And the more the Priest thought
of the Hos and their *******
the more the priest thought
'they must stop what they're doing'

'I could call the police
Have them taken to jail'
But the Hos knew good lawyers
and would quickly make bail

'Then they’d all wander home
and resume the ** *******
They’d resume the ** hand jobs
They’d resume the ** *******'

Then he threw up his hands
and said 'Oh what the Hell!
If I fancied ***** I’d be
******* as well'

So the Priest left the Hos
to their ****** ploys
and he climbed into bed
with two altar boys.

Beyond the chaos of the border
between reason and disorder
lies a world that ever beckons
to the darkness in my soul

A land of everlasting laughter
that was once and will be after
all the things we thought
we fathomed turn to dust
in granite holes

Take me far beyond the steeple
to a land of unscathed people
where no single rule or concept
dooms us all to God’s abyss

Show me love without condition
without heaven or perdition
where no act of false contrition
guarantees eternal bliss

A bowl

Just a bowl

Empty but for a rotting pear
and the core of a once green
apple

The shadows pass over this table
as the setting sun drifts into
the abyss of an Autumn sky

Darkness now

The bowl all but vanishing
in the solitude of a moonless
transgression

The bottle

Oh yes, the bottle

I can see it's outline
in the forgotten drag
of the day's last cigarette

Amber solace to sooth
a tortured mind and numb
a jaded soul

Until morning...

Once, long ago
I gazed upon
the world with
conformity’s eyes
and found it absurd

And I cursed existence
and my fellow man

I built a wall to defend
the tattered remnants
of the sanity I perceived
I still possessed

I built a wall that quickly
became a desolate prison
standing cold in the face
of forgiveness and love

I ignored beauty’s gentle bliss

I insulted love in the name
of an antiquated morality

Oh spirits
Oh demons
Oh harbingers
of what lies
beyond
perception

It was to you
that I entrusted
my salvation

It was to you that
I prayed in expectation
of deliverance

I begged for naught
but a cessation of being
to relieve the nightmare
of existence

In desperation
I grasped the reins
of intolerance

I drew the sword
of superficial righteousness
carving a swath of condemnation
through the ranks of my brothers
for the sake of a disapproving God

I wounded virtue in the name of heaven

I exchanged reason for faith

I threw compassion to the dogs of indifference

What pain has my existence
brought my fellow man?

My path to salvation lies
hidden among the bones
of those I once held dear

Heaven should not
exact such remuneration
for paradise cannot be
purchased with the blood
of hatred and the
tears of martyred tolerance

I will not kneel before
such an altar

Not again

Never again

A Princess in the castle tower
The night has just begun
A prisoner of beauty's power
lies hidden from the sun
The darkness welcomes loneliness
the moonlight disappears
A north wind sings an ancient song
to reinforce her fears

She offers up a hopeless plea
to any god who cares
While knowing nothing ever came
from unpretentious prayers
Abandoning the waking world
she dreams of being free
Dancing on a pedestal
for everyone to see

But the morning sun appears again
to welcome back her tears
A devastating ray of gold
illuminates her fears
While outside on the windowsill
the jester starts to sing
And gently pulls the curtain closed
to hide the flaxen string

She hears the children laugh and cheer
The jester tells a joke
He wears a hat of silver bells
to camouflage the hoax
The maiden slowly comes to life
beneath the jester’s power
Another grand performance
by the Princess in the tower

I've read that all things in creation
Are the will of the King of Salvation
But given the state
Of man's sorry fate
I believe I'd prefer abdication

There once was a lady named Flo
who sat on Pinocchio
She begged him to lie
then let out a cry...

That was one very satisfied **

Returning last week from the Mass
I ventured to let off some gas
The folks on the bus
Made one helluva fuss
And tossed me right out on my ***

The ancient satin tapestry
hangs ragged on a wall
Depicting scenes of chivalry
that no one can recall

And as the candles flicker out
and shadows disappear
There sits alone in darkened hall
a single Musketeer

He hears again from pits of Hell
a rising steady roar
Beelzebub appears anew
to pound the drums of war

So as in every age of man
with shield and with sword
He leaves his love, his land, his life
to go and fight the horde

And as with ages long ago
he shouts the battle cry
And it never does occur to him
to ask the ******* why

So he fights and kills
for Kings and Queens
who tally up the score
And he thinks by shedding
so much blood
he'll put an end to war

The sun shines
on Portsmouth
but not where
I am
It’s nothing but
wishing on stars
Two thousand five
hundred light years
from home
How did I wander
so far?

The east wind
is blowing
The anchor
is weighed
I’m turning
my back to
the gale
With a flask
on my hip
and a prayer
on my lip
and a promising
wind in my sail

And maybe
I’ll make it
or maybe
I won’t
The future
is so hard
to see
Too much
has happened
and so much
is lost
and I don't know
who I’m supposed
to be

It's 2am
and I'm still here
I should have skipped
that second beer
Perhaps the third
and forth ones too
I swear my drinking
days are through

What's that?
McFarland bought a round?
He never buys!
The filthy hound!
Then I'll drink that one
and gladly go
It'd be quite rude
to just say 'no'

Alright I'm done
It's been a ball
What's that you say?
The final call?
In that case
give me one to go
It'll be my last
I swear it's so

Oh Jesus
Where's that ****** door?
And how'd I wind up
on the floor?
And when did morning
come to pass?
Oh Heaven,
save my sorry ***

My woman,
Lord I'm in so deep
She'll knock my brains
into next week
She'll show no love
or sympathy
Save me lord!
Oh woe is me!

Whatever am
I going to do?
I really haven't
got a clue
What's that?
You open up at four?
Then I guess I'll stay
and have one more

The character appearing in this work is fictitious but then again, aren't we all?


Like Humpty Dumpty
on the wall
My shell is cracked
and that ain't all
Below the neck
I'm hunky dory
While up above is
another story

What sits on top
is food for crows
Don't ask me why
I do not know
Perhaps I fell
upon my head
while sleeping
on a waterbed

To tell the truth
it doesn't matter
why the little
neurons scatter
every time
I try to focus
on the world
that's passing
by

But in my head
it's rather cozy
Everything is
bright and rosy
So I shall
remain in here
Beyond the
Sadness
and the fear

Through the centuries, ecclesiastical types have called poets deviants and inferred we would burn in Hell for our heresy. I've often wondered what the rhymes of a condemned poet might look like...*


#1
The serpent got
a ***** wrap
as well as did
the Jews
And if you read
between the lines
you won't believe
The news

#2
As I'm not
a Christian
I think it
quite odd
That I should
be punished
by a biblical
God

#3
God the father
and his boy
appear to find
the greatest joy
deciding who
will sing or fry
in pits of Hell
or Heaven’s sky
Me thinks I’d
rather burn in Hell
for truth be told
I don't sing well
Besides in Heaven’s
realm I hear they’ve
put a ban on wine
and beer

#4
Scribbled notes
on wrinkled pages
offer up my
rants and rages
To the gods
both big
and small
who really
don't exist
at all

#5
Going to Hell
is not my intention
For Hell I believe
is your little
invention
Ingeniously
Crafted for
scaring the
masses
By threatening
Flame if they
don't kiss your
*****.

#6
Such a simple
happenstance
No books to
study true
No condemning
sermons from
the everlasting
Jew
And since
His love
is only for
the chosen
and the few
I think I'll pass
on Sunday Mass
I've better things
to do

#7
Galileo’s castrated
brilliance shackled
to an empty cross
as demonic paramours
burn in the city square

#8
Rest assured
the herd will
follow the absurd
proclamations’
and the institution's
philosophical solution
to the daily grind
that binds us all
to this stalled
morality we
have mistaken
for God

#9
'Peace on earth
and love thy neighbor'
Cried the man with
cross and saber
Even as he slaughtered
millions for the crime
of pagan birth

#10
Cups and saucers
filled with gold
but not a cent
may we behold
for we are not
among the few
selected by the
ancient Jew

Another song. I really need to see about recording these things. All I need is a band and a studio...lol


verse

We scratch and we claw for the answer
but no one pays heed to the dancer
Her movements convey revelation
but we still kneel and pray for salvation

Will we ever see?
No we’ll only see what we want

Will it ever be?
It’ll never be what we want

verse

At the end of it all I envision
the truth will demand a decision
Will you quote from the book of delusion?
Or admit that it’s all an illusion

Yes I truly do
believe that you will see

But it’ll be too late
for the likes of you and me

verse

In the depth of our soul we remember
But the flame's burning down to an ember
In our heart lies our own absolution
But we look to the sky for solutions

Yes I truly do
believe that you will see

But it’ll be too late
for the likes of you and me

up tempo, bridge

Tomorrow comes on broken wings
But you reject the life it brings
Preferring false reality
To the world you clearly see
around you

It’s time to fish or cut the bait
So gather the collection plate
Messiahs standing at the gate
But still you sit and hesitate
It astounds you

Confusion's never what it seems
The world is filled with broken dreams
The choice you make is crystal clear
Tomorrow's hope or yesterday's fear
You must decide

For my part I'll choose to love
And if there is no god above
I'll rot beneath the broken ground
But in my heart I'll know I've found
the answer

In the heart of the dancer

In the heart of the dancer

end

A night as dark
as dark can be
a wind to chill
the bone
And peering
out into the void
I feel so all alone
But then I feel
you next to me
a comfort through
my fear
And even though
you don't exist
I'm really glad
you're here

Bitten

Most of us were laughing
at the lady dressed in rags
She pushed an ancient shopping cart
filled up with paper bags

We gazed at her through Ray-Bans
and we flashed our teeth of gold
We huddled warm inside our coats
as she shivered from the cold

We didn't move to lend a hand
or help in any way
We mocked and laughed like stupid fools
with nothing kind to say

But now I find I think of her
in rags, without a dime
I'd surely do things differently
if God would turn back time

But alas it is to late for that
despite my change 0f heart
Yes I think about her on the street
as I push MY shopping cart

Give me a reason to keep on going
Give me a reason to rise and shine
Give me the courage to face the morning
Give me ambition and a steel spine
Give me a clue to the destination
Give me direction to the *** of gold
Give me a sign to know that you’re out there
Give me a moment away from the cold

Hello?

Naught but an echo in the hollow ether
Not but the wind to carry the sound
Naught but the laughter of yonder mountain
Naught but a tombstone in lonely ground
Naught but a memory that fades in the moonlight
Naught but a thought that passes away
Naught but a soul to vanish forever
Naught but a tear at the end of the day

Flag of my fathers

When will the winds of equality
lift you from your languid prison?

When will your 12,000,000
illegals be given shelter
beneath your furled stars?

Flag of my fathers

When will you be worthy
of your returning veterans?

I'm tired of them washing
my windows for spare change
beneath the overpass

Flag of my fathers

When will your gays and lesbians
be more than fodder for bible
thumping patriots?

I was a bible thumping patriot
once but I never hated the gays

I'm tired and broke Flag of my fathers

The bank wants my house
and the Chinaman wants my job

He's welcome to it if he can get
the Indian to give it up

The doctor wants my money
but it's all been squandered
on promises and broken dreams

I call for equality Flag of my fathers
and they call me a communist

I'm not a communist but if communists
believe in equality, was Jefferson
a communist?

Flag of my fathers

They tell me to leave if I don't like
the way things are but where will I go?
Mexico's crowded and Canada's cold

The government tells me 'get a job'
but the corporation says 'get an education'
The University hands me a bill
and when I can't pay
they tell me 'get a job'

It's all ****** up Flag of my fathers

It doesn't make any sense

I've got a headache, leave me
alone

I'm so tired

Watching shadows crawl across
the wall is dull even for a slow
witted fool like me

Flag of my fathers

Why are we at war?
Why are we closing our museums
and demolishing our libraries?
Why are we feeding our military
and starving our vets?

It's too much to take
Flag of my fathers

It's too **** much to take...

We don't need
no Bieber Fever
We don't need
no ****** songs
No bad lip syncing
on the dance floor
Barbie dolls in
rubber thongs

All in all it's just more
plastic **** against
the wall

Yes, all in all it's just
more plastic **** against
the wall

We don’t need
no **** from Brittney
We don’t need
her rehashed rhymes
No songs of anguish
from Christina
Washed up waifs
beyond their prime

All in all it's just more
plastic **** against
the wall

Yes, all in all it's just
more plastic **** against
the wall...

'The time has come,' the Preacher said,
'to speak of many things
Of talking snakes and ****** births
and golden angel wings
And why Perdition’s fire is hot
and whether Christ is King...'

'Hold on a sec' the poet said,
'Before we sort this mess
I think I need an hour or so
to chill and convalesce'
'Take your time' the preacher said,
'Tomorrow will be fine'
The poet thanked him kindly
and then poured a glass of wine

And then he poured another
and another and six more
But soon the flask was empty
and he stretched out on the floor
He looked up at the preacher
and in garbled words he said:
'I think I'd rather talk
about reality instead'

Help me please I think I'm broken
and I know we've never spoken
but I could use some friendly banter
just to get me through the night

You see my friend I'm lost and jaded
and my notions have since faded
leaving me the soulless vermin
that you see before your eyes

So feed me scraps and friendly laughter
and from now till ever after
I will be your humble servant
and your will, will be my own

I do not need so much attention
and I feel your apprehension
But I'll provide much satisfaction
with a bit of loving and a bone

Do not this cold grave open
for the dead should be left
to ponder the silence
of their transgressions
The earth holds no
promise for the living
while the unreachable sky
mocks us with brilliant
hues of vanilla clouded
bliss
I hear the sea calling
from every corner of
my conscious being
Calling and calling
her children back
from the abyss
Yes, the sea is where
we shall make our home
The sea, which gave us life
will be our refuge

The sea...

It was a Sunday morning
and by gosh what did I see
I think it was the Easter Bunny
staring out at me
He had a basket filled with eggs
and chocolate butter cups
But when he saw my shotgun
he knew his time was up

He dropped his Easter basket
and fell upon his knees
He looked into both barrels
and said “Mr. If you please
I'm just the Easter Bunny
come to spread some happy joy
From house to house
and door to door
for every girl and boy"

I considered his objection
as I held him in my sights
If he was the Easter Bunny
then I didn't have the right
But his head would sure look pretty
mounted up upon my wall
Right between the Tooth Fairy
and Santa's jingle *****

I pondered this dilemma
and I chose my words with care
"I've shot a lot of critters
but I never shot a hare"
I decided I would let him go
I'd let the moment pass
But when he turned to run away
I shot him in the ***

So now he's mounted on my wall
above the fire place
Between the red nosed Rudolph
and Cupid's smiling face
They'll be no need for colored eggs
come Easter time next year
The Easter Bunny's on my wall...

With buckshot in his rear

I thought I knew
but I didn't know
In fact, I doubt
I ever knew

I guess it doesn't
matter anymore

**** it, I don't care

I've got three dollars
to my name and it's
more than enough
to see me through

In fact, there may
even be change left
after the curtain
falls

What?
It's over?

****, I missed it!

'Okay folks,
move along'
Says the blood
spattered Cop
'I said, move along!
There's nothing
to see here!'

That's right
Crawl back into
the neon forest
that is middle
America.
Go on!
If you hurry,
you might catch
the last half hour
of that Kardashian
show

'What was all the *******
fuss about anyway?'
Says one old *** to another

'What indeed?'
I answer from the shadows

They turn quickly at the sound
of my whisper, but laugh it off
as nothing more than the October
wind howling over the rooftops

Perhaps they're right...

In autumn’s tranquil, moonlit night
I walked through embers of firelight
And in the air above my head
flew spirits of the newly dead

Floating in October’s chill
I think I see my uncle Phil
He’s there beside my auntie Fay
who holds a flame to light the way

Round and round they travel so
into the stratosphere they go
And disappear for evermore
Gone to Heaven's tranquil shore

But what is this? I'm floating too
Upon the wind, between the dew
I see my aunt and uncle there
awaiting me with loathsome stare

But wait! Why are they waving so?
It seems I'm sinking down below
Below the ground and into Hell
****, what is that awful smell?

Around me souls are crying out
from orange flames I hear them shout
"Oh God forgive us for our sins
We promise not to sin again"

But no one answers prayers from Hell
How long they'll burn, I cannot tell
They may be saved by half past four
or burn in Hell forevermore

As I descend, below the crust
the air is filled with sulfur dust
I gasp for every drop of air
that my lungs may somehow snare

But air is nowhere to be found
as my soul floats further down
And lands upon the burning floor
to suffer there forevermore

But friend you'll want to listen clear
If you don't want to wind up here
Avoid the food at Taco Bell...

*Or you may dream you're stuck in Hell

Jacking it up to knock it down
the sound of collapse perhaps
the saddest heard by humanity’s
jaded ears
Heroes made and defeated
by apathetic fools, the unwitting
tools of the corporate masses,
who bow before well-to-do *****
in the name of capitalism's sanctified
gluttony
The will of the enlightened
frightened into dark corners
of degradation awaiting
the salvation of one who will
deliver them from the chains
of society’s unadorned ignorance
Bewildered sheep grasping at the
tattered remnants of this wasted
democracy.

Come on little darlin'
while I'm holdin' it together
and I'm standing in the hallway
and I'll wait on you forever
and I'm making up this silly rhyme
and I think it's kinda clever
but reality is something...
well, I'll have to reconsider
so before I get to thinking
and before the night is through
well I wish that you would hurry up
there's so much more to do
you see the world is waiting
and it's just outside the door
and tonight we'll make it different
like it was that time before
and gosh you sure look pretty
like a daisy in the sun
and the car is warm and ready
and our journey's just begun
we'll be a thousand miles from here
before the day is done
and tomorrow we'll start over
and we'll never be undone

But the truth?

We both know

It's waiting for us now

There ain't no way
of saving us...

Tonight

She gave me tea and cookies
and a blanket to keep warm
A smile of reassurance
and shelter from the storm
She pointed at a crucifix
and took me by the hand
She said, 'this is my savior'
But I did not understand.

'What is it he saves you from
and what is it you fear?'
'He wards off evil serpents
that would otherwise be here'
'You mean to say without him
you'd be overrun with snakes?'
She looked at me quite oddly
and said 'Oh, for heaven's sake

'I don't think you realize
the power of the cross
it pummels every evil
showing Satan who is boss'
And all at once it happened
as if suddenly on cue
Two enormous serpents
slithered to the door and through

She moved as quick as lightning
taking crucifix in hand
And smashed each slimy serpent
as it slithered in the sand
I sat in abject horror
as she pounded out their brains
and smashed them for good measure
three or four times once again

And when she was quite certain
that these snakes were truly dead
she hung the holy crucifix
back up over the bed
Then turning in the fire light
a smile upon her face
She said 'One cannot argue with
the power of His grace'

With love there is life
With hatred desolation
We must choose wisely

I hardly knew my mother
and I barely knew my dad
But god I knew John Lennon
he was everything I had
I mimicked everything he did
my life was all the rave
Until the day that Chapman
sent my hero to his grave

That day still burns in memories
that time cannot erode
A generation's legend
shot and bleeding in the road
For me it was the final straw
that broke my timid chains
I vowed I would preach tolerance
and never hate again

I confess it isn't easy
to accept some points of view
and I find myself quite often asking
'What would Johnny do?'
But then I take a minute
and perhaps a couple more
Just until I'm certain
I won't knock you to the floor

(I'm still working on the tolerance part)

Creativity freed
from the structural
prison the decision
to pen the consciousness
within won out over the thin
argument of conformity’s
Apollonian demands,
and like sands falling
through the glass
the words are flowing
past my eyes and my
fingers don’t linger
long upon these keys
that for so long stared
with derision and laughed
at my poetical decisions
A block that mocked
and castrated the spirit
of creative bliss
This is freedom
in poetical existence
and the distance I cover?
Only time will discover
if any of it was worth
a **** at all...

They see us mesmerized
before the television screen
watching obscene celebrities
basking on the beaches
in the sun
having fun
sipping margaritas
with the pretty senoritas
and they realize the wool
is already pulled
over the eyes
of America’s bleating
sheep who sleep and dream
of Kardashian glory
forgetting the gory
reality of the children
dying from the missiles
flying overhead
beneath wings
of killer drones
launched from the home
of peace and prosperity
three thousand miles from
their dessert squalor

I tried so very hard you see
to accept Christianity
To believe that snakes in apple trees
can talk to maidens pleasantly
And a God that is both one and three
makes little sense mathematically

But the faithful ones insist that I
should never try to verify
‘Accept it all and don’t ask why
That’s how a Christian should comply’
But really I don’t think that I
can this dogma truly buy

But do not look so ill at ease
uncertainty is no disease
And even though we don't agree
it makes no difference to me
I simply, simply cannot be
a fan of Christianity

But now I see I’ve made you cry
please let it go and dry your eyes
There really is no reason why
So let me try and clarify
We simply don’t see eye to eye
on all the things we both decry

And now my rhymes are running low
but I’ve only got four lines to go
So I think it would be apropos
to end this dog and pony show
And to paraphrase the great Thoreau:

‘When we forget our learning, we’ll begin to know’



And now my friends, I have to go : )

Sitting here without a clue
my mind is on the blink
And I'm not sure of what to do
my thoughts refuse to think
But give me several lifetimes
and a quart of Johnny Black
And I might write a line or two
to let you know I'm back

Or maybe I should hang it up
and play guitar instead
I'm pretty good at strumming
when I've had my Johnny Red
At least old Johnny says I am
and I won't disagree
Old Johnny and his brother
have been pretty good to me

So I reach for my old Fender
and I plug it in the amp
Then bring those six strings
into tune and flip off all the lamps
And sitting in the darkness
I recall my favorite tune
A little song I've always loved
from 'Dark Side of the Moon'

And 'Hotel California'
is a special tune for me
Even though the Eagles
went and ripped off Jethro T
I pluck that B flat minor
thinking how it all began
When I'm through I think of you
and start to play again

But the guitar starts to crackle
and the strings begin to rust
Like everything I ever knew
it crumbles into dust
I look outside my window
and I see you in the rain
A trick of nasty weather
manufactured by the pain

But the rain's begun to vanish
and I see you pretty clear
I get up from the sofa
and I wipe away a tear
And all at once you're standing there
beside me in the room
And I see my lifeless body
lying naked in the gloom

You take my hand within your own
and sadness disappears
Without a word I realize
there's nothing left to fear
And in the east a glimmering
declares the rising sun
The nightmare's finally over
and the dream has just begun

Scene:

A spider in the fire light
weaves a solemn web

Cue the drumbeat, slow and steady...

Now the bass...

Bring up the volume...

Narrator:

'In death, breath no longer has meaning'

Increase volume on bass...

'In life, it is the essence of being'

Cue the trumpet, slow and mournful...

'In sleep, we walk in both worlds and exist in neither'

Cue the second trumpet, softly echoing the first...

'Some men paint their dreams'

Slow fade out...

'Others, their nightmares'

Screen fades to black and music stops...

'What will you paint in the hours before dawn'

Five second pause...

Switch off...

Vanquished dreams
crash and burn upon
time’s barren field
while the yield of
a lifetime is one half
pound of effort and
a few precious ounces
of success
At the end, is anyone
remotely satisfied
with the frantic waste
that was the last 26,280
days?
Two thousand years
waiting in vain for
the next Messiah
to save us from the
doldrums of mediocrity
while the best minds
of our generation
rot before the altar
of Yahweh and the
wide screen TV
Nietzsche understood
and it drove him mad.
Is that what it amounts to?
Boredom or insanity?

Ah man, what vanity
has led thee to this place
of desolation?

Mighty Cupid shoot thine arrow
**** the ancient yuletide sparrow
Singing out upon the window of
my jaded misery
When it was I don’t remember
Long before that lost September
When the sky was everlasting
blue and yellow fantasy
Long before this present sorrow
Long before the dark tomorrows
Innocence was still a virtue
lost to us in passing years
Looking back I have to wonder
when the rain and ancient thunder
first began to cloud my vision
giving birth to shapeless fears

‘If a man is intolerant, show him compassion
If a man should curse you, give him praise
If a man shouts you down, speak softly in reply
And if a man should hate you, show him love
Do this my son and you will have accomplished
something’

‘Will I be as the great Holy men of ancient time’s father?’

‘No my son.
Much more than that...

So very much more’

I asked her for a sentence
that both pleases and bemoans
She said "your brother's *****
is much smaller than your own"

THEIR beliefs are myth
OUR beliefs are religion

On high the gods laugh...

Chapman, gun in hand
Lennon lies shot and bleeding
My world changed that day