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
Wednesday 31 October 2012
Tuesday 25 September 2012
Spring
Like jumping out of a smoke-filled,
Fire-blazing window sevenhundredandseventyseven
Stories
Of
Blood mixed with unnarcotic
Bewilderment
Sun springs
up
Bitter-Not-Sweet
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,
Twat.
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.
NO.
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
ride.
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
binge?
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
eyelids
Cutting short the peace.
An empty, wiped-out clingfilm wrap,
A spoon,
Charcoal lines.
Soon,
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
Soon,
Soon,
I will wake and not break
I remember the days when I flew past the
moon
Soon,
Soon,
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
collapsed
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,
Smackhead
Smackhead
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
Floats to the phonebox,
Half-smiles
Just my name is enough
We both know the spot
Now the waiting
And aching
Are all that I've got
eyelids
Cutting short the peace.
An empty, wiped-out clingfilm wrap,
A spoon,
Charcoal lines.
Soon,
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
Soon,
Soon,
I will wake and not break
I remember the days when I flew past the
moon
Soon,
Soon,
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
collapsed
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,
Smackhead
Smackhead
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
Floats to the phonebox,
Half-smiles
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
jacket
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.
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
jacket
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
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
Endings
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.
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.
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.
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