Wednesday, 31 October 2012

Lament at Number Three

Come sit and play crap
At the table of life
If you play the wrong card
Then I'll put in the knife
Now butter my bread
With a sliver of spite
And we'll laugh til we're dead
From the booze and the shite
So get out the fiddle
I'll play you a tune
And the junkies will sing
By the light of the moon
And when you're half-dying
I'll send you away
With your kecks round your knees
As you're starting to pray
You'll say it's enough
And you'll never come back
As you press down the ashes
And suck up the crack
So come again, sweetie,
I'll see you real soon
When you come for a treat
With yer pin and yer spoon

Tuesday, 25 September 2012


Like jumping out of a smoke-filled, 
Fire-blazing window sevenhundredandseventyseven 
Blood mixed with unnarcotic 
Sun springs 


So you don't like it? 
You don't like my past? 
Screw You. 
I ain't proud or unproud of it 
Ain't dead or fucked up from it 
AM I? 

Screw you with your Method One Maintenance 
hitler shit 
Your chin-up-looking-down-your-nose at me shit, 
Fuck you with your 
"I never got addicted" shit 
What makes you so better 
Cos you never smoked a cigarette a 
Pound for every time I heard that, 

Yeah, I'm angry, 
Yeah I'm vexed 
Cos every day, another woman gets her kids 
state-snatched up 
And you'd be the next to say 
"But she's just smacked up" 
Don't help her, will you? 
Kindness won't kill you. 

Sittin' in your car at the traffic light 
See the beggar by the cash machine and drive 
on by 
Don't give a fuck 
Will ya 
Wasn't your bad luck, 
Cos helping might kill yer. 

Fuck you with your tough love, 
Your disown-your-own-kids love- 
Cos if love's so tough you'd bareknucke the 
And fuck you with your victimhood 
Cos ain't you heard of parenthood? 
You really love your daughter? 
You'd have swallowed your pride 

Does my anger make you jugde me? 
Does my swearing make you cringe? 
Does my tone of voice alarm you like a heroin 

So sad I didn't live up 
To your fucked up expectaions 
If you're down some day 
Just call me, yeah: 
With fuck all hesitation.

Who Wants to go Back to This?

Dawn light filters through my membranous 
Cutting short the peace. 
An empty, wiped-out clingfilm wrap, 
A spoon, 
Charcoal lines. 
Soon, I will wake 
And not ache. 

"Just break the habit" they say, 
But how to get through today? 
This will is not mine. 
Nothing, but nothing is fine. 

Cringing awake in opiate need, 
Bones burning inside 
Can't hide 
The facts about this, 
This deceitful not-bliss, 
Not anymore. 
Am I sure? 

Seven old filters in an unbleached spoon 
I will wake and not break 

I remember the days when I flew past the 
I will play a new tune 

And nothing gets right 
As I push in the pin 
And I miss and I sting 
Cos I can't find a vein 
And it's always the same, 
Like this, 
The same, 
No gain. 

I'm checking the sunk ones, the scabbed, the 
And I'm wondering why I don't care. 
As the blood cauliflowers 
Relief's all that's left 
And I'm left with the same, 
Same pain 
Same pain 
Cos it's never enough 
Getting tough 
Getting rough 
And I'm losing the will to survive, 
Stay alive 
And I'm left with perhaps 
And perhaps. 

So I stumble, Still-dressed, 
To the door, 
In my chest 
A bewildered and lost lack of hope. 
It's the same as before 
The same as before, 
But worse. 
I've doubled and tripled my curse. 

The train station looms 
Like a beacon of light 
In the grey-drizzle pre-workers' hours 
And they all fob me off 
"Fuckin' smackhead, get lost" 
As I beg them with bullshit and lies. 
"My sister is dying, 
I just need a ticket" 
"Is she fuck, junkie scum, 
I can tell that you're lying" 
One day I will kick it. 

But I'm lucky today 
(Look, my skin's turning grey 
as the dead, 
I hear them all mutter Sewer rat 
From the gutter, 
All that) 

But I'm lucky today and somebody falls 
For my lies 
Gives up the notes 
And I'm thinking I'm wise 
So she floats 
Floats to the phonebox, 

Just my name is enough 
We both know the spot 
Now the waiting 
And aching 
Are all that I've got

The Killing Fields

Afghanistan: he'd seen some things had made 
his comrades puke: 
He'd served before 
In the Bosnian war 
Survival just a fluke. 
Now he's back on British soil 
A crumbling shell of a man 
Each night awake 
He can't escape 
His dreams of Afghanistan. 

In school they'd delivered careers advice, 
The recruiting officer came 
With tales of adventure 
And friendship and life 
And lies of becoming a man. 
He thought through once, He gave his name, 
Read papers through, 
asked questions twice: 
The man in the khaki clothes seemed nice 
Now he's getting all the blame. 
Since he want to war, things aren't the same 
As he dreams of Afghanistan. 
The things he's seen, the blood he's spilled, 
For what, for whom his comrades killed? 
Explosions go off in his head. 
He envies those he left, the dead, 
"It should have been me," he sighed and said 
To the man down the lane 
With a hood on his head 
And bags of mercy in his hand 
Shipped in undercover from that faraway land, 
The only way to cover his pain 
As he dreams of Afghanistan. 

And now he's ascending on the lift 
Of his council block's forty floors 
Heads right to the top without any stop 
With nothing but thoughts of the wars. 
Daylight cuts his irises blue as he opens the 
door to the roof. 
Asking himself, "Where would I be now, 
Had I made the right choice as a youth?" 
And he's pouring the powder from out of the packet 
From the earth of Afghanistan, 
And he's mixing the fruit of the farmer's blood, 
Forgetting that he's a man. 
And he rolls up the sleeve of his battered old 
He's wearing his old civvies now 
He'll never be seen in that military green, 
Disillusionment to him now, 
As he dreams of Afghanistan. 

So the needle sinks in and the poppy sap flows 
From the fields of Afghanistan 
As the rush hits his head 
Thinks "I'm better off dead" 
As he dreams of Afghanistan. 

As he opens his eyes, 
Darkness seeps from both sides 
And his world is closing in 
As the warm breeze blows 
His subconscious knows 
This battle he never will win. 
And he's floating free now 
Over green fields that grow 
Swelling capsules of opium pods 
And the soldier he was 
Gives his soul to the gods 
As he dies in Afghanistan.

Higher Power

She dreams of the womb 
But no comfort there 
When from foetus was shoved down 
And knocked to the ground 
Claims crowns 
Not of glory 
But shame 
From the shallows 
In vain she is crying 
For someone to blame 
In vain she is dying 
A hollow remains 

Tie a knot in your pillow 
And sing me to sleep 
By the rivers of willow 
Where red poppies weep 
Cuts her arrows 
From ashes 
From birches she's grown 
To respect in the fear sense 
From fear she was grown 
And he cuts off her shoots 
And her buds as they sprout 
And he buckles her petals 
So words can't slip out 

And her sap is of venom 
She's bursting with rage 
With each wound drips the sap 
As each word fills the page 
And she's gathering armies 
Of junkies and whores And her weapons are tarnished 
With scars from past wars 

She turns off the meter 
And shuts out the light 
And she's measuring feet 
For the phoenix last flight


Nobody sold me heart insurance: 
If it breaks, then it breaks 
And I'll carry on 

But picking up the pieces 
They won't fit back together 
Like humpty fucking dumpty 
With his yolk all gone. 

Do I care? Does it matter? 
Like a fish without the batter 
Should be swimming in the sea, 
Not a fried-up, furious me 

Do I love? Do I fuck: 
All the hate was bottled up 
For this frabjous fucking day 
(i've forgotten how to pray) 

And the sound's all gone 
And the world's turned off 
And I could be wrong 
But I know I've had enough.

Calendar Material

I'm planning a relapse: 
Now where shall I start? 
NA is a bunch of brainwashable farts 

They want I get clean? 
Ha, then more fool are they 
If they think I won't use, 
Or expect me to pray. 

Desire for the needle 
Runs deeper than death 
And ME, be a sponsor?! 
I've already left. 

The literature's boring 
Those cards make me yawn 
A cult run by fools 
Who forgot they were born 

So pass me the citric 
I'll fill up the spoon 
It bubbles like lava 
This can't come too soon 
Don't be sad! I'm a junkie: 
What did you expect? 
Hell, no one controls me 
It ain't no defect. 

So bite off the filter 
And drop it in quick 
If you think I do wrong, 
Hell, what's wrong with YOU, prick? 

Feel the warmth through the pin 
As I tap out the bubbles 
And there was you: think 
I was glad for your troubles? 

Do you honestly think 
That I wanted to change? 
Hell, I'll pick up the drink 
With the pavement my stage 

And I'll rant to nobody 
And curse through the trucks 
Til I'm drowning in vomit 
And don't give a fuck 

I'm the sun I'm the moon 
I can't play a new tune 
I'm the heart of the matter 
Bilateral schmatter 

When push comes to shove 
And I stick in the pin 
Will you lecture your concepts 
And theories of sin? 

And the brown liquid sinks 
And its sting feels like love 
As I draw back and plunge in 
Illusions in blood 

And I hope it was worth it 
As I close my eyes 
Is this real? Is this me? 
Ahhh, the junkie surprise.