10 December 2011


Through self-destruction I found salvation
Through deconstruction I found a reason to be
Discovering a good woman and okay wine
Warmth and touch all made sense

Taking everything apart piece by piece
Saying goodbye to what was once held near
To breaking my own heart
To not writing about it

Feeling everything every painful day
Wanting escape
Finding freedom
Getting lost

Something more has been found
A new identity created
Circumventing sacrificing the old
I've never been sadder and more happy

I want release and to let go
But I can't
I'll find release wherever I can
I know it can be found

I can taste it
smell it
touch it
It will come

Bitter Shits

It was me all along who didn't belong
I had borrowed an idea that I didn't own
I had tried to make shapes fit in the wrong holes
and force keys into the wrong doors
Making a story out of it all

Trying to switch the purpose around
To find paradigms that felt right
Swallowing lies at wholesale prices
that won't stop going up
Selling bullshit in uniform precision

People who know less than me who want more
Another life that better fits in with Saturday nights
Huddled around a TV set of throwaway memories
and endless chains of clothing retailers
Selling unique identity to the lowest bidder

Parents warning their children of the dangers
Hidden in the dying written word
Fake breasts and good teeth can sell your children
absolutely anything
You buy them lies

but I'm just a bitter old shit who likes nothing more
than to call you out
behind false identity
behind the farce you wanted to see
but don't trouble yourself over any of this

Like I said
It was me all along who didn't belong

Death of a Manager

Fading in elusive as midnight breeze
The sharp needles of overworked lungs stabbing breaths
A head full of a million ideas
a few less tasks
and no ideas left to own

The pain has become innumerable
Was this what it felt to fight front line
Even though the cause lacked any sensibility
Beyond the lining of others pockets
Still the pain was all but too real
Either individual organs were giving up
Struggling under the pressure of machines
Constant lying and conspiracy
Fighting against the workers
Or the whole body is doomed
Rotting away for a chance to pay to live

The hours are longer than they should be by more than double
People interfere like a child attacking an ants nest
Desperate to find a part of something that has no reason to be
We drone onwards towards a goal that doesn't exist
Merely the end of a day and that fateful day
Celebration when the walking dead are celebrated

Pay day is our capitalist holiday
We arrive at work all the same
With a sense of justice
As if what we have endured was worth it all
As if a dying husk was worth a healthier pocket
and things to call our own

It's not
It was all lies
Seeing through the lies
Creating unrest and discontent
Truth reveals itself through muffled rage

We have dammed ourselves
To unrequited servitude

Mourning Splendour

Eyes burning red through uncooked steak road maps
Pain shooting through raging rapid alleyways
Bleeding out golden rainbows of morning dew
Lungs removing unneeded bitter caramels

Humble mistakes return through vivid day dreams
Morning wood dawns in  glorious splendour
A reminder of brunettes dancing close in waves
and blondes with their tongue in my ear

Whispering secrets
"I bet you say that to all the girls"