Prophet & Gain

question,

when religion rubs

itself over some

pornographers joke.

I see you...red faced,

licking G-d

with a big gee,

just in case.

The War of Art

Rustic hues, on canvas lift

the barrage, then the tonal shift

indifferent to the textured strain

of scratched in men, who fall again

Invictus, through poetic wake

a parable, for no ones sake

the rhythm running through the line

that failed to hold, despite the rhyme

Exposure, in a brittle light

the kodak, and the bakelite

a glossy situation turned

to weekly sales and children burned

A Dream of Pyongyang

A Dream of Pyongyang

I Took a walk through old Pyongyang

a package tour, a secret sign

a party of surreal control

four hundred floors for me to climb

Consider, I was led by Kim

to forge a statement tall and slim

I made the point, he failed to see

but made the point right back at me

I sat by Leonard on a tram

and noticed when he tapped my hand

the beauty of his weaponry

the beauty of some prophecy

Hymm

Sweetest is the evening

that entertains a lie

a blessing hid in open view

a curse laid in disguise

we carry on together

though neither of us bound

by winters holy sorrow

nor summers needy crown

I follow you, and even though

your heart cannot be bound

to winters holy sorrow

and summers needy crown

She whispered in my ear something warm and sharp Fixed circumstances aside, I felt my way along dark promises soft issues broken lies

Your body wrought, with senses light
and eyes that saw a shadow
of another time.
I kiss the dark beneath each one
then trace the lines around them
with my swollen lips.
It wasn’t on my mind at all
I swear I only touched you
in a certain way.
Yet in the past I coined the phrase
that formed very core
of notoriety.

The Moon lay on its back
as if the rushes of love had
exhausted all patience.

Rumours of death slipped
unnoticed from the lips
of children, while Erebus
danced from one slaughtered
family to the next.

There’s a war coming but not like the last
The pigeons are painted like doves for a laugh
Everyone’s frightened but nobody cares
The zealots are moving, they’re marching in pairs

They’re marching for freedom, marching for fun
Marching their boots to the ruin of a drum
Marching to motivate, marching in rhyme
And the whole damned world is marching in time

There’s a war coming just over the hill
It’s almost upon us, but lies very still