don't take it personally

none of this is about me or you
it's a stab in the dark at those demons
our imagination conjures up
when the light's off
before we fall asleep

so let's put everyone in a gigantic bed
and let them dream in the dark
some will see monsters
others will see stars
some will see nothing
(but only the visible parts)

let's wrap them in a blanket
of four parts nitrogen, one part oxygen
and see how they get on
until sunrise
when the dreams stop
and the nightmares begin
for some

but none of this is about me or you
or the people next door
or that lovely girl i saw today
with the hourglass figure and black tights
or your dog
really

but i'm just saying that
to get me off the hook
don't take it personally

burn before reading

you shouldn't read this
but what does it mean?
don't mean shit
if it meant anything
you wouldn't be reading this crap
that doesn't mean anything

there is no salvation
there is no great truth
you're driving this meat vehicle
from one ditch to the other
until one day, the steering fails
and you go over the edge
on a tight bend
crashing down a loose canyon
or something like that

the potholed road's still going to be there
paved with good intentions
ready to trip the unwary
you can try to read the signs
you'll figure out what they say
but only when it's too late

fuck the road less travelled
and the other one too
(not that it means anything)

if you read this far
sorry for wasting your time
with this crap
but i did try to tell you

two short planks

as i carve this clear, straight oak
the bright metal edge reveals
shapes hidden within
adding by taking away
shavings curl away like tiny caterpillars
to stick to my socks
and i am happy

and there's you.
you say you've shaped yourself
your perfect life runs on rails
your greasy smile slides over shiny teeth
you've got it all worked out
i don't think

i trust the wood
the wood is honest
the wood is natural
the wood lives
quite unlike you, except
the missing parts
tell the whole story

the day the President's head fell off

do not laugh, nay, do not scoff
the President's head has fallen off!
he tried to think a little, but
the cervical vertebrae were cut

the rest of him still tried to walk
but look! the severed head could talk!
his aides ran about in a terrible spin
and tried to stop the infernal din

it shouted "Make America Great"
it yelled about a wall of hate
the White House rang the CIA
and pleaded "come and save the day!"

"his head has fallen off, they said
the rest of him, it should be dead
but it's still blundering about
come quickly! help us sort it out!"

the CIA and FBI
asked not the reason why
wondered why the fool's not dead
"his brain was gone! he's got no head"

they called the greatest scientist
"you sort it out!" they did insist
he groaned and tugged his long grey beard
and mumbled "yes, it's as i feared"

"he never used his brain, you see
and now it's gone, his body's free
to stumble blindly here and there
but look! what's that? oh no! HIS HAIR!"

the hair was crawling across the floor
heading for the nearest door
it cried "oh yes! i can escape
from life atop that stupid ape!"

"the hair can talk!" they all exclaimed
"yes, indeed, but i can't be blamed
for all the stupid things he's done
please let me leave. it isn't fun"

the head was lying quite inert
but his hair was active and alert
then someone had a bright idea
"hey listen - let me make this clear"

"the hair talks sense, but the man's insane
he clearly doesn't have a brain
the only thing that i will ask
is: can we make a President mask?"

in Hollywood they worked so hard
and made a head of orange lard
"a perfect likeness!" they exclaimed
and put the new head on a plane

they glued the head on to the trunk
then afterwards got really drunk
"that could have been an awful mess
but look! it's been a great success"

so it's the hair that runs the show
it looks the same, but you should know
it's vastly more intelligent
than that idiot who was President

so now the country is in order
no wars, no wall across the border
and those of you who are appalled:
be thankful that he wasn't bald

the black hole

you know what?
i'm stuck here alive
or something like it
like it or not

others turn inwards
and escape their private bell jar
by turning off their lights
a murderer and corpse in one
hanging the pain on the rest
left mourning our absent friend
i can't hurt people like that

but: how many of us are accidental humans?
what twinkle were we in our fathers' eye
that made him forget to keep it in his trousers?
should you have been here?
do you know?
i do. i shouldn't. that's the truth

but here i am
being punished for a crime i didn't commit
by being here
by getting older
watching it all go by
and feeling that keen loss
of someone who did what i couldn't
and the cold ripples of hurt amongst his friends

but to not exist
to never have been
to vanish without trace
a life down the collective memory hole
just gone, not mourned, no sadness or loss
could i turn off that sparkle
and drift off into the empty black hole
of not being
i could live with that

spaceflight

long live the earthbound astronauts
the ones who never made it
never left the ground, except in dreams
who looked to stars they would never reach
and smiled

there's one over there, walking the dog
with a twinkle in his eye and a waggy tail
he's growing carrots on Mars
with his faithful space-dog by his side
while his coffee gets cold

you passed one at the checkout
you could hear those barcode beeps she made
it wasn't a till
she was flying one of those sci-fi film computers
in her discount starship

and with a click of the mouse
you fly through that vast space of zeroes and ones
you can be an astronaut too
we're all on this spaceship
stuck

but Houston, we have a problem
there's no fuel left for dreaming
we're stuck here on the ground
all except those special ones, that is
they're already gone

dog eat dog

the latter day descendants of Adam Smith
think of themselves like a Star Wars Sith
wrapped round our faces like a vampire squid
bugging and recording everything you did
to protect their place in the gilded tower
while cash & carry politics cements their power

they buy both sides, the reds and the blues
and the companies that supposedly report the news
it's all about controlling the way you think
with bread and circuses and plenty to drink
they'll keep you in debt from birth to grave
and tell you it's freedom to be a slave

well of course you're free to question it all
but careful buddy, because you might fall
through the massive great joke of the safety net
so the rest will see just what you get
so the others will point and say you're the one to blame
but the others won't know, as they scrape and strive
how to free their thoughts and be truly alive

so you're fucked one way and you're fucked the other
like they'll fuck your kids and they fucked your mother
fucked from the start and fucked to the end
fucked by your enemy and fucked by your friend
fuck unto others before they fuck unto you
or maybe just fuck it all... that's what i do

the last post

if Bukowski wrote a facebook status
he'd say
fuck you, motherfuckers
i'm sitting here with
a whore
a thief
a con artist
and a congressman
drinking whisky
just the two of us
as the world presses its nose
against the empty glass

we try and try
but trying is the problem
he would say
i am stuck and i'm trying
to stop trying

he would write
i fell under a pile of letters
sent by sms
on my anything but touch screen

if Bukowski wrote a facebook status
but he wouldn't
motherfucker

and he's dead anyway

clear, simple, and wrong

(with a tip of the hat to H L Mencken: "For every complex problem there is an answer that is clear, simple, and wrong.")

angry? don't know why? let me help

it's him over there
yeah him, the one who doesn't look like you
or her, who doesn't dress like you
doesn't speak like you
doesn't think like you
is full of other colours
than your own darkness

forget for a minute that
they have two eyes, a nose and a mouth
and clothes, and words, and thoughts
and skin
and hearts

but they're not like mine, you say
they don't deserve
it's all their fault
they're too poor to be worth anything
and what they have, they took from me

yes, they stole your air
your gravity, parents, children, breath
they took your shitty job
because you didn't want it
honestly, who does?

but: who would you blame
if everyone was like you?
if everyone was looking for someone to blame?
someone would blame you
for all the shit
you try to wipe from your grubby, worn conscience
on to someone else

who, really, is just like you
and not like the heartless lizards in suits and castles
who give you all the shit you'll ever need
and laugh at you
throwing it at anyone but them

all their answers are clear, simple, and wrong
but to you, fumbling around
behind your angry blindfold
they feel good

almost half asleep

we sleep. we all sleep
we sleep one third of our lives
two days of every six
four months of every year
asleep

one third of you is in those dark dreamy mists
one third of you does no harm
one third of you is never busy
one third of you does not lie
one third of you does not make sense
one third of you talks to no one
except you

your waking self knows less than all
your waking self is busy
your waking self fucks up
your waking self tells lies
sometimes

don't tell me you know yourself
don't tell me it's possible
don't tell me you dream out loud
don't tell me i know me
you only know you two-thirds
the rest is asleep