NOTHING DULLS THE KNIFE LIKE SITTING IN THE DAMP AIR.

pictures of you.

as i look through
this pile of pictures
i can see the face of death.
on the old folks
the obviously decaying
in the yellowed old snaps
and the crisp 1970s magazines.
i can see the look
the shadow of it
in the ill ones
even the young
in every crowd
there is the one.
the face that looks like it will be there soon.
the picture looks like it will be in a memorial.
another scrapbook.
dampened with tears,
summing up
another
lost
one.

waking.

slumbering dragons belch decades of clouds
into the tumbling blue sea sky,
mirrors are the inevetable way of the world.
grand dreams could be nothing more
than a way out,
in,
around.
try as we might, there comes days when the reality sets in.
the moon is the sun.
this land is me.
i am this land.
the sea must try to drink me,
and i will always want to run. run. run.
i am, after all is said and done, a failed sprinter...

devilution.

adventures become scenery
scenery becomes vaccuum
vaccuum becomes sucky
sucky becomes licky
licky becomes sticky
sticky becomes freaky
freaky becomes scary
scary becomes adventure

dreamtime.

another town crumbles by, late in the day, under the haze of southern steam.
still tyres, still pavement, still the inexorable writhing of a million or more screaming for a fuck.
still meals and shots into oblivion in the hopes of evading the loneliness.
warm breezes abound in this oasis,
treachery and demons surround,
and the best of us rise to the occasion.
wars waged in dreamland,
sleeping soldiers still seek respite.
is it the days awake that are our rest,
our break into play and monotony?
it stands as such,
for this fade to black is short lived most nights,
serving only as a step through the stratosphere
and into the impeccable craft of lighting up the sky...

pray!

we watch
as you disappear
again and again
just when
it is time to bleed.

give us blood.
give us shit.
anything
to quench
want
want
want
want
want
want.

retirement.

the slow decay of sleep surrounds
and the wind tears at the exterior of the beast
one can only hope for a violent win
surprise ending
spectacular loss.

but in all likelyhood, there is just this.
content
comfortable
complacent
old fools.
diddling along the seashore,
grinning.

cops and robbers

somehow the fools never get hit with the dropping piano
though i see peoples skulls gleaming
i know we are all on the way
through here
to somewhere
else.

on the lawn

they were the strangest
soaring
buzzing
alien.

i knew they were not me
i knew they interested me more
than anything i had seen up to that point.

but there was the familiar things
they moved
had heads
strange eyes
legs, though those were on all backwards
and made of sticks
but
the life inside of them
i recognized

and even then i knew
that somehow
it was not the way
tearing off limbs
for spitting tobacco.

water and wine.

sometimes it's supposed to hurt worse than love.
sometimes you are supposed to get lost.
sometimes it makes no sense.
it beats you down.
breaks you.
burns.
ow.

these are the things we give thanks for, the things we live for, the things that show us not what is real about the world, but what is real about ourselves.

in some time, the hard part is over.

then...
the sun can come out,
and we remain,
to play.

the sea wolf sets sail.

I left this all long ago, hailing the sea her call to roam
Borne upon ebb and flow of hail and wind and sleet and snow
Horizon beckoning, onward onward to- what lies just beyond just to the other side
The way back is gone hid behind heavy sky
We run to be free of everything left behind
Chased cross the sea through the pitch black space and time

Pray land, cause here we have nothing left
All hands here the call, we head still further west
T’home at the end of the earth.


It couldn’t be much further now, sea wolf has been to long at ridin.
All hands are down below, cause they knows the current be t’ one deciding.
If now we live or die, hope only luck stays by our side, looking on, to carry us all the way
The wolf is alone, to run ‘till the break of day,
Carry us on, jus hold till we find the way
Tho we cant go much longer we’ll hold as long as it…

Takes us to make land
Son pray and she’ll hold fast
To find us there, at last,
T’ home at the end of the earth.

There’s a break in the clouds captain on the horizon
The crows nest is sounding the wind is a risen
There’s a tree in the water with leaves still breathin
We close to the end o the long journey home.

wednesaturday lyrics.

Wednesday time seems so quiet cool
Better still with nothing to do
Than soak up the day here with the crew
Low lying light falling into the blue
Let the afternoon drift down into black
Wednesday time is never coming back
Don’t mean it aint good time here to slack
We’re enjoying the ease of losing track

As last whisps light get tumbling down
Time for us kill kids to hit the town
Always best these nights with noone around
The room for the good kind to be found
So mid week weekend - derelicts freak bender
High peak deep end – doesn’t matter never better
Slow down speed up – somebody please fill my cup
Never needed all this clutter mucking me up.

So another round to take us home
No reason for her to sit there alone
Come on around and lets carry on
Sleep the last dark hours out on the lawn
welcome the daytime back to the world
always happy to see you after the whirl
here’s another day for us to be found
with our ears in the stars and our feet on the ground.

We’ll still see you here on weekends
Always love to feel you my friends
Even in the coliseum scene
Wild partys till the end we’re always keen
But we really live back in the middle time
The world that’s found between the grind
Dreams lit by stars and neon signs
Wednesday night is both yours and mine

silence.

i wonder if there is anyone out there.
this is so quiet.
i haven't heard a car or a yell...
did the mothership come early?

i wonder if i would keep writing,
even if i knew there was nobody left.
or would the vomit just
keep
on
flowing.

maybe i should go and steal the best car on the block!
this is great!
the rapture has to have been,
i haven't heard a sound in hours!

i wonder what car will seem best,
when everyone is gone.
what pants
hat
hairstyle
shoes.
i wonder what words will come
when the world is ablaze
the restaurants empty
the ships careening wildly
with no one at the helm.

i wonder if there is anybody out there
on this cold autumn night
or if it is just me
and the machine
and the words.

if it is, then...
FUCK YOU, BUDDY!

oh.

there goes a scooter.

at least i know
there is at least
one dipshit left here
besides me.

i have to write 500 words tonight

something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine. something happen so i can stop sitting at this machine.

that was so fucking easy, i thought it'd be bigger.

here lies the sea wolf.

'ere lies sea wolf
'ere dies sea wolf
proud charge o' the deep sea, sea wolf.
Plowed 'neath t' deep blue cold
Wolf’s teeth, wolf brow, wolf’s hands and toes.
Plowed 'neath t' deep blue cold
With all her hands both new and old.
Wot give for one more chance this deed,
Old man beg take me back,
To the drift before the dying yell
To the fall before the crack.
As Blue death tore through the hull
Buried island broke her boughs.
Tossing men like rag dolls sleeping
Like scraps left out for the crows.
Heard screaming through the thick'ning clouds
As they fell down to the sea,
Through wind and fog and sleet and ice
He came to bury thee.

Sea wolf to the deep.
Sea wolf to the deep.
Cold shuddered eyes freeze over
As they ready for the sleep.

Old mans arms pull thee down
t'where no light could pull you back.
Was just listnen' for the spotter's sound
When we fell upon the crack.
Thrown high and low and far and near
Just th’ faintest call wot gave us fear
Of the deep yea, of the deep.
All hands pulled down to th' sleep.
And our mothers never saw us home.
And our brothers set to sea alone.
And our mothers never saw us home.
And our brothers set to sea alone.

Lost Sea wolf to the deep.
Lone Sea wolf to the deep.
Cold shuddered eyes freeze over
As they ready for the sleep.

Cause the wall and the buried isles tore,
tore the wolf in two.
On the heart of a perfect storm alive
whose breathing steady drew,
The ship astray
From the light of day
To the pitch and the howl
And the groan and the growl
Of the timber spent
Luck was lent.
but the wolf was tore in two.
the wolf was tore in two.
Nimitz called
called in his greed
through the old man sea
to the wildest steed
to the eraser head
to the noblest deed.

Call! Sea wolf to the deep.
Yea! Sea wolf to the deep.
Cold shuddered eyes freeze over
As they ready for the sleep.

eyes clawed through
blackening stew,
burnt crisp with salt
and ice right through.
the digging gaze
hailed the haze
aside but never
solved the maze,
of crumbling mountains
blue and black.
the sunken isles.
the tumbling crack.
that tore the wolf in two.
tore the sea wolf in two.
one by one
hand and foot
the fires set’lled
burnt flesh and soot.
the floors turned up.
the sky fell down.
old man crept in
took back his crown.
his minions wind
and fog and sleet
bore down upon
th' remainder fleet
and pulled them far
and pulled them near.
as they barreled forth
they hail'd no fear
and reason gone
‘hind hatred fire
to find the wolf
their sole desire.

far fleet down to the deep.
far fleet down to the deep.
Cold shuddered eyes freeze over
As they ready for the sleep.

if th’ fleet did see
the down below
t’where her masts
and crew did go
they’d never push’d
through black and hell.
and one by one
by two they fell,
on buried pillars
sunken isles,
their hulls cracked through,
and heard for miles,
the screams of men
who burn’d and drown
as the old man took them
took them down.

All souls down to the deep.
with th'Sea wolf to the deep.
Cold shuddered eyes freeze over
As they ready for the sleep.

between mother land,
and father sea,
they know not more
‘tween you and me.
just final resting in the deep.
the crew o’ wolf done set the sleep;
right ‘long side
as they set’lled in
the whole o’ the fleet
resolved their sins.
in dreamy dance
the corpses huddle,
ten score and more
amongst the rubble.
if dead eyes spoke
which some swear do,
they answer’d call,
and questions too,
alas quarrel was
less than the storm.
but still forsaken
homes still warm,
and widowed wives,
and orphaned sons,
all for sake of
sins been done.

God's children to the deep.
with the Sea wolf to the deep
Cold shuddered eyes freeze over
As they ready for the sleep.

so on this night
to the howlin sound,
remember then
the men gone down,
and know then when
the reckoning come,
not by hand of man,
nor by his guns,
is judgment made
or salvation sold,
not powerful seat,
or boulions gold,
made crew and wolf
set reckoning.
upon last light
the king of kings!
yea mates and martyrs
one by one,
laid down for keeps
the journey done.

Sea wolf to the deep.
Sea wolf to the deep.
Cold shuddered eyes freeze over
As they ready for the sleep.
Sea wolf to the deep.
Sea wolf to the deep.
Sea wolf to the deep.
Sea wolf to the deep.

love child.

writing the poem
is a demon on your shoulder
come for the feed
tapping his toe
sifting impatiently
through the contents of his pockets.
adjusting his wing
mumbling inanities.

the more you feed him
the more he'll come around.
and once he knows
there is food in here.
he won't leave
won't budge
never tiring
midnight,
2am,
4am,
never tiring
until he's had his fill.

the nice thing is
that so far
demons aren't picky eaters.
biography
analogy
philosophy
fiction
history
nonsense even works.
even now.
even this.
it's just punching the clock.
getting the pay.
buying the schlock.
at the end of the day.

i have a mouth to feed,
a little
gorgeous
demon
that i unwittingly
unknowingly
made my child.

i guess when he learns to read,
he'll find out.

even though he was a mistake
i did my best
and stayed up most nights
foraging
to keep him well.

eagle eyes and the mexican maiden.

to my chica:

i've seen it
the pictures of your life
we bent down in the booth
over some civilized drinks
and peered into the tiny screen
into the little digital world
of triggers
things you remember
the kind
that i most likely drifted past,
occasionally through
when i was close enough to try.

i've seen it
the product of the work
the things and way
of dedicated years
and focused intentions.

while my pants unravel
at the seams
my shoes leak
squish squashing through the puddles
i know i could have
should have
still might
have some pictures
on the tiny screen
of cabins full of smiling faces
softwarm scarves
sunshine eyes
blue sky afternoons
perfect days.

there's still a shot
at making some memories
and having a few good snaps
of me with the crew.

it could be fine
but i know
that even then
on the screen
in the prints
of pictures of me
us
the family hike
there would still be
one set of prying blue eyes
in the middle of it all
begging to be set free.

autobiography

20 dollar shoes
don't quite fit right.
kinda loose in the back,
narrow in the front.

who has feet like this?
cone shaped feet,
cone shaped head.

20 dollar shoes
don't breathe,
smell horrible after just a few hours.

20 dollar shoes
break down discernibly
every step
zippers break
soles peel

wrong shape
bad smell
shit sole
falling apart
everybody's story
the whole of humanity
for 20 bucks.

great deal if you ask me.

beef with "guitars"

i swim,
swim slow,
down deep and low,
even though,
i eye
i eye,
am so high,
in the sky,
underground,
bubbling sound,
floating 'round,
fins and wings,
sparkling things,
santa brings,
satan sings,
finding god,
zilla too,
drink some brew,
need no shoes,
have no feet,
never going to walk down the street....

cuz i'm above
cuz i'm below
swim in the sky
so wetly dry
shamanatee,
shamanatee
gave up the cult
to learn to ski.

strongstrongstrongslow
strongstrongstrongslow.

part the sky
Lazarus
waving hi
to the schoolbus

boats and planes
porpoise games
nights are same
days insane
stumbling grumbling tumbling rumbling around these stellar lanes

bare the tooth,
worn around,
heavy neck,
jangling sound
floating style,
full o grace,
swimming miles,
with no face

face guard
guard dog
dog pile
pile hog

hog pit
pit boss
boss man
win loss

amber sun
chosen one
mows the lawn
garbage gone.

cuz i'm above
cuz i'm below
swim in the sky
so wetly dry
shamanatee, shamanatee
gave up the cult to learn to ski.

strongstrongstrongslow.
strongstrongstrongslow.

new friends

old friends are the best
not so much because they are the right people
the most compatible
best interests
lots in common
but really because
you don't have to
troll through droll
wheres and whats
towns and concerts
cliches have long been dropped
in leu of
loving eachother
hating eachother
whatever.
as long as it isn't
"interesting."

porn overload

if everyone in the world
were under the lamps
cramming dead fish
up each others assholes
whilst whipping with chains
and drinking bowls of cum...

then

making love
quietly
quickly
lying down in the dark
would become
deviant
and
as delightful as it already is.

special people

the luckiest bitches in the world
dabble in society
and have problems
that cost more
than the solutions
issues
imagined
catastrophys
created
manufactured lives
tumbling through the sphincter of time.

rex.

the weight of one word
in a world of chatter
advertisements
banter
cities of people using words to keep away from each other
instead of drawing the line.

the weight of one word has drowned,
sunk,
still pounds
but next to the tonnes
couldn't quite stack up.

save for when you take the weight,
propel it forward,
give it speed,
place it well
make it a bullet
a bomb
a breeze
a shell
a firework
a tickle
a smell,
even some damage is okay at first.
just to get the word in.

it doesn't take many, if you do it well.
keep it short.
work it out.

slay the lumbering beast with these words.
spread the carcass out on the carpet in the living room,
slumber in the juicy organs
like beanbags,
drink the bile,
let it rot.
burn the house
and collect after

the teeth.

all that is left
incisors
well placed
with momentum
working tools
drove these words
into the air to begin with.

rest and ready to kill again.

pals

there are the friends that loners gather
the ones that don't disappear after a few weeks/months of silence.
they don't miss christmas gifts that were forgotten
celebrations left behind.
they stand the test of years
eras
raising the towers
and crumbling the cities.
also there are the random
ones you never see again.
passers on trains,
waitresses at the bar,
wild korean chefs,
lonely drunk poppies wandering midnight beaches,
the passing smile,
a joke on the bench,
the drifting through doesn't shrink
or make them less
understood
is the nature of the deal,
beautiful
knowing
it passes so quick
you better get ahold
it passes so quick
you'd better let go.
both sides of the coin kill the heart
drowning
or
starving.

the ones that last
are the ones
that are willing
to watch you
do
either
or
both.

wanted.

small fish
lazy fish
apathetic fish
seeks the ease of a wonderful lie
in a pond of any size.

horse poo - $2

how have i been doing this for so long?
the neurosis that had been endearing as a child
tolerable as a young man
are now
just
perversion

this is the nature of decay.
living becomes rot.

but then rot becomes rich,
even shit
can be sold,
if you go far enough
or wait long enough
or find
just the right person,
just the right freak
crazy
lover.

dream come true....

back in port
rested
fed of coffee
fastfood
beer
having drifted so long
between these islands
the wind at sea has stripped my bones
i am dust
a ghost in this little sea town
drifting from eve to eve
rain spattering
tattering
threatening to shatter these last toothpicks
drag them into the sewers
for the rats to clean thier maw.

Haven.

Dream with me for a minute.
Dream of moths fluttering on glass.
Of tiny movements, smallest sounds, the magic of emptiness, shimmering still spectres, the distance between lies.

Dream for a lifetime of the little dreams, sometimes forgotten, stars that make the heavens one by one, rain becomes rivers becomes sea, dream of little dreams pouring into your full heart, brimming over with sticks in the sand, tree climbing, childhood dreams, from the days before you knew better, and still let them be as real as you.