The Ballad Of Jack Hammer (Concept by Jay Byrne)
=========================
Jack Hammer-Jay Byrne Black Fang Rob Sandman aka Schizophrenic.

Listen up I got a tale to tell.
About a black jack rabbit known for raisin' hell.
Jack Hammer's his name. Retribution the game.
Out on the plain with his kinfolk he did dwell.
Til that fateful day. No forgettin it.
Loss so painful. Jack was but a leveret.
While playin' out back.
Along the track came Black Fang and the Red River Pack.
And they were lookin, for blood.
Notorious outlaws up to no good.
In the low sun and The Pack started gunnin'.
So Jack started runnin'. The damage was done and it was over.
No time for goodbye. He just stood there.
Lookin' the Devil in the eye.
While his Momma bled.
The wolf walked up and this is what he said.

Are you sore that the Fang took away your Paw?
and the River Run's red with the blood o' your Maw?,
well hop away little blackjack eyes red raw,
-tell the rest o' the prairie what you done saw,
Red River is the Pack,I'm the one with the crown,
I'm the big bad wolf who blew your whole life down!
so cower and quiver little wabbit,have a cry...
you little ******* you took my **** eye!

From out me back pocket, pulled out me slingshot..
..I'm a real crack-shot when it comes to bringin' pain across lots.
Ya never saw it quicker.
Lickety-split I skedaddle into the thicket.
Then he was gone...

Spent the next few years wanderin'. Ponderin' recompense.
Lived paw to mouth honing his defense..
..and offense. Hell bent on atonement.
Twin six-guns blazin', layin' judgement.
While The Pack kept killin'.
Full split, full chisel, goin' the big figure.
Black Fang said it himself.

none bigger none badder than the Pack I'm with,
spit venom that hisses,hogleg never misses,
no-one messes with the red river,do and you die,
cry wolf-get engulfed,leave your colt lie,
whole pack'll rip lead to your head if you try,
but-one thing niggles while I sup down Rye
is to **** that rabbit that took my **** eye,
heard he built some fame,got himself a name,
Jackhammer IS MINE I STAKED MY CLAIM .


Like a freight train runnin' on collision course.
Jacks fate's been comin' like an iron horse.
Tour de force, pent up, fired up ready to blow.
On a stormy night into town he did stroll.


Jack walked into the saloon.
Black as all hell, no light from the moon.
Fang at a table playin' poker.
Soon to be Dead Mans Hand for that joker.
The pack'll pay.
I'll put the red in your river bringin' Judgement Day.
Stormbringer I'll deliver. Got an itchy trigger-finger..
..cos I'm quicker and fitter. Juiced up, not goosed up on hard liquor.
Then he catches me eye.
Takes a sip of his rye and says..

if it ain't the **** nipper that took the fang's eye,
waited all these years to come here and die,
no odds no winnin' no end to my sinnin' ,
Pack back up,fair game fangs winnin
last chance saloon,I'm too old for you,
ain't no-one ever outdrew me and old blue,
Navy Colt revolver,dead problem solver
so 'ware this wolf,you couldn't **** with silver

Black Fang, I've come to collect.
Anybody that don't wanna die better mosey outback.
But the pack can stay.
For what ya done did you're dyin' this day.

as I opened my mouth and slid my paw to old blue,
twas like the heavens opened up on my whole **** crew,
twin revolvers spitting,splittin' open my pack,
last shot ripped ripper my lieutenant in the back
cause I dragged him over me,hit the deck too,
little rabbit thinks its,over cause I  was hit too,
then I let rip,aiming straight for the head,
coulda sworn that shot left Jackhammer dead ... (but did it?)

If I could take the parts, you know,
the bits that don't really matter
one by one,
moment by moment,
and push them off a cliff to a place that collects such worthless clutter

The mistakes I have made,
the thoughts that shouldn't follow on through but do
those past revelations, such stories of wondrous lies and the times I should just have just poopooed

We live a life that is never in the here and the now
The mundane taking over, every work hour a taste so sour
To look and to basically be your best,
those wrinkles showing old age,
an advert on your brow

We'd like to shove all these inacuracies and self loathing on a one way trip to hell
but its a part of the human being that grounds us all, a one time life in this corruptible shell

So to take away those parts that make us so inaccurate
would be a boring life with no ups or downs as we all like a few quid on an unsafe bet
those niggles, such talk that is utter drivel,
all to be placed in a room with a designated shelf

Not a chance, its a part of our lives,
for who would ever want to have,

A Divorce From One's Self

JJB

A voice in the morning niggles at my head.
Not the voice of schizophrenia.
A real voice indeed.
Before I fall I think of you.
And when I wake I do so too.
It’s all very weird.
To me endeared.
Let’s pretend we’re not friends.
I wonder.
The stars lace the sky in diamond rings.
Let’s see what tomorrow brings.
For me, it’s work.
With its trials and tribulations.
Just puts some pennies in my pocket.
I am a realist for now.
Believe not in love.
She’s a holy cow.
Always let her rip me to pieces, don’t know how!
(c) Livvi 2014

asoftquietafore;
                                 B OO   M!
grunting swirl. the speakers speak intangible friction
who's so slightly an empirical fever
nursing gratuitously the male flavors encumbering
the ego flecked freckles *** lisping
    elegantly cambered waists                shrines of molten ecstasy
but my lady niggles sporadic splinters in my sheath
and i
             splay the courageous night
                                                               and penetrate her plaintive giggle
andrideayellowbuckingmetal
to her supreme station
                                        and palm her credibly
with every effect of my huddled fibers

                where she is gently wet      
a winsome hollow
                                  in where
   is

                           springhotlycaked     light boisterously exploding
and a pink breaking every other colour
   i slave mightily to it's hairless stubble and i stumble
rightly dumb
                            at her close cut whisper
slanting ardently a moist bolt of night
                     aggressively passive
                                                               and patient
she cups my puddle
                       and
                    with
                      lips
                   purely dirt
                 she scrapes me   perfect

Now in
Nature,
Numb and
Naked,
No one
Notices the
Nobility or
Native
Narcissists on their
Nail-biting
Nacreous
Narcotics, but
Never
Neglect the idea of
Naïve
Nobodies with their
Nightly
Niggles,
Nameless and
Nowhere. The
Nocturnal
Nation.
Night's
Nearing.
Nearly
Nationwide,
Nimble
­Nebulas form.
Neurotic.

Slumbering
Zzzzz
A mis-shaped face gapes open at the mouth
Wakes slowly with one eye shut
And re-arranges its pace to form a unified
Front

Drool dangles
Drips lip to chin
Slurps back in where it belongs
Slides along a tongue and is swallowed
Hole

Nose niggles
Twitches
Bewitches the brain with imagined insects
Landing, lounging
Creeping up cavernous
Nostril nooks

Dream steps
Missed
Falling face-down onto metaphorical foreheads
While lying flat-backed
On the bed

Dozing drowsily
Napping
Not quite awake nor asleep
Quite aware
Neither here
Almost there

All most easy

I feel the feelings
They leave me reeling
The love i thought i had
I thought it not so bad
A  few niggles here and there
Nowt to make yo much aware
But others knew, they dare not say
Now they tell, so far away

All for the better, she was right
I wanted a wife, she wanted a life
Children three, they are what mattered
I would not leave, tho life was shattered
Now two years on i feel better
My bed is cold, but my children fettered
warm and fed and better sheltered
I care not just for me you see
I care for things she did not see

so heart tightly unopen
in packed a whooping
collared beast niggles
sharply by fingers mostly
hands' unfurled in
a star of dreaming wars

the lightest and body
feeblest is strongest
nearly firmer than
softest barely weaker

and flowers
(a big spit of petals)
burning thigh deep
into waded Edward
after him i'm
leaping freshness
of my complete mystery
ripens against darkness

dashing(withclosedeyes)
on the mouth of the sun
where is set my teeth
the silver and her moon


                                                          ­                                               ,

Some hold the heaviness of the world in their heart
I only cradle this silly wee thing
It sits in my heart like the tooth on my chest
It niggles away, a tickling sensation
But this silly wee thing is mine
and mine alone!
If it were not to be here then surely
neither would I

Slowly they count
The hands of time
Gliding without rest
Macbeth he screamed
They are here
A slow and relentless march
tic-tok, tic-tok
Here it is and there it goes
Without applause.
Stand still impervious!
The moments wash over you
Yet still of grit and mud
You are ever a rock, steady.
You close your eyes
As a tear niggles your flush cheek
Life is here and there it goes,
You mind is here and there it goes.
You are but here
Never moving
You are but here
Never moving.

Just resting my eyes
as the lights in the tree dance
and some well trodden narrative
of Christmas redemption plays
in gloss on TV

the grey pull of January
is at bay for now
held off by cellophane wrappers
and the smells of a decadent kitchen

though not a Christian
I’ll be thankful anyway,
aware of the drop either side

I’ll let my usual pissy niggles rest
til next year

god's spades little digging children 'tween the hips o' girls
digging deeply (al itt le finger) lays a thousand times; seeds


                                   (niggles the dry packed loosing firm)

a root extending from

                                             into

                                                           a rose becomes
                                                                     a thorn
                                                                          pricking
                                                                        

waists (shoots and leaves
              shoots and leaves
              shoots and leaves

                                              )gardens calls 'em boys
                                                calls 'em boys when
                                                (digging spades release)
                                                a seeds to spill girls 'tween hips 'o

One more siren
another day
time for me to get away
escape this fray, but
the silent G niggles me,
why is it there in what the nightwear wore or
the lightning strike?
and I notice in the lightning I can hear the
G, but only at the end when the lightning's struck
at me.

Impossible to say, another siren in the day
and one more reason why
I have to get away.

I carry a nerve
waiting to be heard

stifle its content
in certain company

it niggles sometimes
squirming on my tongue

all that polite circle
munching on canapes.