She left me there,
In a cart of apples,
Baffled and tear wept,
I crept forward,
To find my way out.
Searching for mummy,
The lorry I lobbied,
I crammed in my mouth,
To stop the crying and screaming,
She cried as she ran,
And let go of my hand,
In a room so gross with skirts and ties,
Lying down to hide,
I decided to crawl.
And out the door in a hurry,
So scared, yet so worried,
I’d never find another,
Moment with mum,
So many things undone.
She turned with a smile,
Tear eyed, but fine,
And with a turn of the cheek,
Peered at this boy,
And yet, in time in a shop,
Sad eyed, where time forgot,
The madness of a boy,
Crammed with his toy,
Memorised and solidified his fears.
The fool has many faces, yet I wear only one,
Begun to change it, re-arrange it,
And I’ve only just begun,
To find myself in foolish times,
Aligned within myself, I tried,
To be the way I used to be a time,
Fine and tried on this whirlwind ride,
Life applied to the seismised,
Jesus freaks, geeks and weirdos,
Beardos, Beanos, comotosed, overdosed,
Stirred on the inside, outside, fallen down,
The foolish clown sounds out all his ground.
I never said I’d stay till the end,
I disapointed all my lovers and friends,
I never said I could get through it all,
I never said I’d get up when I’d fall,
It’s a drag to get through the day,
A pool of nothingness festers me,
Is it the voices in my head that spits,
As we wade through this bottomless pit,
Life is nothing, and nothing must end,
As we sodomise the statements to transcend.
(Inspired by the works of Richie Edwards).
Embarrassed, undressed and ready to die,
You can see the pain behind these brown eyes,
Stop me now and I’ll apologise,
But you know as well I as those words are lies.
It makes me laugh, it leaves me grieving,
These lies we tell to keep our hearts beating,
What’s the point in living misery,
When we’re junk filled with insanity.
The rain it pours inside my hair,
I wish it would enter there,
And clear the thoughts and memories stored,
Please, do it now, I’m eternally bored!
Just one thing before I sleep,
As the meaningless feeling comes to creep,
Beside my mind of misered shit,
I’ll end it all, every bit of it.
Feel the cold of the Winter,
Feel the cold of the Winter,
Feel the nails of a sinner,
Feel the nails of a sinner.
Transposed from the prose of W.B.Yeats.
Oh, I was young and foolish,
I fell for the water lass,
We kissed by the blazen willow,
As the moment had to pass,
She said take love easy,
Love will come or will not,
But I was too old to listen,
And a broken heart was what I got.
It was down by the stream by Dumbarton,
Where we cried our tears spoiled by rain,
She walked away through the grey clouds,
And I sat under the greener plain.
She went to take love easy,
And I thought she the greater fool,
Now, I’m alone in Dumbarton,
And I cry down Dumbarton pool.
He strummed the chords to the flowered voice,
Over Manchester’s factoried floors,
Dreaming of musical horizons,
Talking through a musical manifesto,
And singing the tunes to the world,
Hands in glove, these charming men
Sang the songs no one else would,
For pretty princes and vivacious virgins,
Styling themselves to those who could not,
Marxist remarks barked and ordered,
Floored, scored high on points of intellect,
Injected to the sirened sound of ignorance
And blissful wistfulness.
She came in swoops and waves,
Taught from words from hand to hand,
She manned herself in bows so sweet,
And asked nothing from others but sincerity,
Pleased to be from Sweden free,
Mysteriousily seen serene green eyes,
She tried to change the light so free,
And came out the dark instead.