Flap

Could slouch in skinny jeans
for hours endless skinny hours
skimming the boho curds off
of government money, plug in
my maxed out synapse party
boy o boy headache silver platter
to tedi tiny fine inter webwires
getting my kicks this decade
then slouch off to Bethlehem
and pay penance pay back
the dough the do the don't
the diorama of a dozy boy
kicking around out of pocket
lickin stick sticking plastercast
limbs on the wall off record
and bubbling my soulbrew on
the midnight train to Georgia
porgia pudding and punch drunk
confession lovey dovey stolen
moment life shmife aha oh
well we all try don't we eh?
And she's three thousand miles away.

Sit here like Prospero with my books
or something I dunno just flung out
into the watery outer spaces, Buddha
on a bender, Shakespeare shaking or
shaking hands or shirts off taking
dives cheap lager strumming hip court
jacket out the window with sticky
toffee mardi grah doowop veins,
I can't live up to prophets poets,
people passing quiet down dark lanes,
it's all too much to take down town,
rocked round and round, no way
to know or think or write enough,
can I just mope til I'm at the end
of my twisted wrung rope? Nope,
time to lick my pistol, put pedal to cool
metal and speed into the new sunrise.

Love, you'll be a holy eagle flied
by my side until death us do fart
parp parp the car waits, ticking over,
no wasted time no more no oh no.
Hop in our chariot and spatter now
fired up turned on and witched out
through blind morning to the great divide.