Angels

In this batavia arcadia
Head trip wet dream while whiting on the floor
Blurred angel faces leer out of the dark
They smile and wrap me in their feedback wings

In rooms, on human carpets, in the night
The walls forgive lost children lying there
That love and fall and drink and smoke and fight
In holy haze that keeps them up for days
They strip their drunk ecstatic spirits bare

Lost in the valley without my horses
Hands like leaves and a broken poison head
I watch as neuron nebulae erupt,
And tread the sodden earth with feet of lead.

Unmoved by stars, I stare at empty space
And count my frozen fingers one by one,
As though the life were in the reckoning
As if I feared my fragile mind unspun.

The Dogs

No mercy shown, the dusk returns again
The dogs go running back into their caves
Dug into hillsides that wait for the flood
The lamps are dimming at the end of days
Your artifice, the stone from which you came
Is broken down, derided and in flame

Walking out into asphyxiated beautiful winter streets
The northern air is born, wails in damp leaves
Lays a hand on my palpitating lung, a gift of stars on my eyes
I turn in heady winds, a bright world of naked skies,
I break into a run.
Insane winter is the loss that autumn grieves
Autumn is the coward child that winter eats

Falling into lakes with you, cracked lips
Split jeans, small hands, your hips.
The sun passing out, I see the blinds
That pray, we lay, still but for our minds
And your eyes are screwed tight shut,
You dream chimeras, peeling babies. But
In my dreams a techno chess board stays
A fall from grace I won't live down for days
The streets home shine, walked by drunks and strays
This life is like a burst of colour, like a wanton craze
And with my hands still shaking from the hit
The last few days, I don't regret a bit

Lullaby

Whisper nor thought nor kiss nor look
Drown in seconds of embalming feedback
Sax howling my face raw, destroyed
Nights spent lost in poets, head of mercury
Kneeling at the gate of that monolithic valentine
Cigarette, bed, churning and pencil scratches
Falling asleep to dream of perfect worlds
Fighting my idols through papyrus groves
Nothing but my starved naked thoughts for a lullaby

13

Tongues of fire trip, drip truth
That floats like red leaves.
Liquid in the garden, thieves in the valley
And the scream of the organist
That wavers, chokes, and dies.
Two hands under the spotlight,
Signing deeds for dead trees, cattle tracks
Bent backs, steps and strain. Cold rain
That accuses quietly and starts to hiss
Lips kiss a gale, your mother lies
In dire ditches, flames in her eyes.
One, the son, cries and knows
There's nothing to be done.

Premières Impressions

A stranger room, ex-skag ex-pat soliloquy
Dreams of what he wants to be
He reels and snorts til he can't see
And spits, speaking pidgeon english to me

The grope, the motivation, his day of yay
A bed where fiend cloud-jumpers lay
And dance in time to beats, delay
But he just stands, complains, coke man
Unable to do things normal people can
Relate, converse and forward plan
Or being an immoderate fan
Of avant-garde noise math-rock bands
Nothing more, nightmare, hands pale
The conversation's getting stale
And so is his trop-fairy face
Fuck, I should just leave the place

Tambourine Slang

In hard and arid valleys, gold teeth and chains
Turn me loose on better plains, be well
My friend we know these paths too well
Against the pull of mermaids this rope strains
In my conch I ride, and nothing matters
I want to lie on hard grounds in warm rains
And tear my torch, my clothes in tatters
Never knowing how high I fell
But pushing up against the basements of buildings
And selling all my belongings, my longings
Are thrown into the dust til you can't tell
Rain and mud from flesh and blood
I'll bet you when you look into this well
You'll find that all your bombs were duds
You'll find that all your lies were good
And carved in iron, burnt in wood
You will retire to live less guiltily
And in your garden set your children free
The coward cooks will strike up the band
A crazed and cautious jungle jamboree
And marching slowly Eastward hand in hand
Following the sound of my unholy tambourine
They'll bring land to sea, and sea to land
Nobody will remember what has been
No one will mention anything we've seen
The sea will hear, the sky will understand

Holy Cow

These days, the drums in my ears don't forgive
Pound a new rhythm, inspire a new palpitation
They rattle through my skull, and grip, shake
The movement is too low, too deep, these moments
I just wait for it to stop. My faculties forsake
Me, writhing in the shadow of the heathen exultation
I grin

My brothers have all done, died in the mud
Fallen hard and I cannot help them up
But these park bench mutations don't bother me
I have lungs full of air, feet with real souls, veins of blood
I have a beautiful poison in my brain makes me feel free
Makes me laugh at nothing, makes the room spin
I'm going to turn tail, turn into a holy cow
And come back years later to teach children how