Fucks Given. Or Not.

Fuck you, man

You gave me only hardship

Exchanged good blood

Anaemia your gift

Fuck you, man, I’ve rested

Know the truth now

You’ll drink me dry

Till nothing left but dust

Fuck you, man

Persuasion and your power

All lies you tell

To keep the grindwheel oiled

Fuck you, man

Not long now that you’re rumbled

Revolution imminent

Resolve

Survival of the fittest or the richest

I’m fit for you

Rich bastards

Watch me live

Watch me, watch me closely

Fuck your methods

I’ll outlive you

While, fuck you, I, no fucks can give

I’ll see you yet, in hell, when hellfire freezes

I’ll fuck your system sideways till I’m old

You have the means, we have the power

All that’s needed, hearts and souls, still whole and not yet sold

Fuck you, man…… although I’m tired

Weary of the fight…… but still go on

Let’s all fuck, as one, together

Can’t fight orgasmic power for that long

Fuck you, man, you faceless, mindless moron

The suit that serves you well won’t serve you long

Though fucked beyond endurance, we’re still standing

Fuck you, man, we’re fighting you, still strong

Watch the faces change as climax reaches

Point beyond endurance, simmering

You’re fucked, and time will tell,  you mark me

We’ll fuck you sideways yet, now boiling

Watch your backs, your anuses, you fucktards

We know you now for what you really are

Vampires, all, without salvation

I’m cursing you right here and none are barred

Your time is drawing close while ours is looming

Death beyond what you have ever seen

Expulsion from the hierarchy, we’re blooming

While you, you’re fucked, as if you’ve never been.

Horn Of Plenty

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(source)

licquor pours across all floors

it is not possible to become

intoxicated today when

bota bag bleeds and seeps

its blood-red vintage while

weary herdsmen weep

and skin afresh, hanging

hircine hopes on kids

gathering yesterday’s grapes

for fresh pressing

remembering to decant

old with old, the new with new

and both willing the carver

with every bone in their bodies

to gouge with due caution

adhere with common sense

remember libation to providers

and secure for all, in celebration,

that the horn has plenty

The Illusion

Below are the words I wrote to one of Johnny’s amazing tunes. It’s called, ‘The Illusion’.

It made me think of the circus (which I hate). And politics. And we, the people. This world of ours.

I hope you enjoy the results of this particular collaboration.

Some people may be offended by some of the images. What can I say? I’m offended by them too.

Here is the circus, here is the street,

Ringmaster has found the beat,

Try to keep up with his song,

Try to march in time along.

 

This is the game we all play,

Carnival is now the way,

Jugglers, clowns perform, we pay,

Sideshow stalls have won the day.

 

See, look, the Big Top, there go the lions,

Whipped to submit, they stride in time,

Prancing ponies do their thing,

All well-trained for circus ring.

 

Fire-eaters and trapeze acts,

Contortionists, acrobats,

Bearded lady, strongman too,

A man who’ll throw sharp knives at you.

Elephants and dancing bears,

Chained and trained with treats and chairs,

Barking seals we’ll photograph,

Voyeuristic, look and laugh.

 

This is the game we all play,

Carnival is now the way,

Jugglers, clowns perform, we pay,

Sideshow stalls have won the day.

 

Freaks, a frenzy, humankind,

All been hired, so we don’t mind,

Reassured by loud applause,

Menagerie all minus claws.

 

Unicycle, wheel on fire,

No safety net below the wire,

Seats aplenty, catch the thrills,

Captive held, donated will.

 

This is the game we all play,

Carnival is now the way,

Jugglers, clowns perform, we pay,

Sideshow stalls have won the day.

 

Crocodiles that cry and smile,

Hoops and loops, a queued turnstile,

Welcome mat once bona fide

Shit and sawdust strewn inside

 

Red coattails and top hat guy,

Prices tickets, would he lie,

Roll on up for daring acts,

Roles by rote, learned down pat.

 

Calliope, glockenspiel,

Beating drums, can this be real,

Mesmerised by costumes grand,

Performances all out of hand.

 

Extravaganza, three-ring whip,

Drugged as mugs, all on this trip,

Flashing lights and strobes that blind,

Custard pies but we don’t mind.

 

This is the game we all play,

Carnival is now the way,

Jugglers, clowns perform, we pay,

Sideshow stalls have won the day.

 

Disassembled, faded grass,

Circus moved, out on our arse,

Try to keep up with his song,

Ringmaster can do no wrong.

 

This is the game we all play,

Carnival is now the way,

Jugglers, clowns perform, we pay,

Sideshow stalls have won the day.

Pain’s Sin

Positioned for the flogging, bending double,

Head to knees, hands to ankles grasp and firmly grip,

Exposed back sweats anticipation, ears awaiting

Swish! another crack of whip.

Bleeding from the wounds not self-inflicted

But not tied or tethered there by chains or cord,

Safety self-assured by strongly spoken,

Enough! Desist! Over! Similar word.

Pain received or given, if consenting, strange to me

Tho’ all kinds it takes to make this world to spin,

But inflicting same, in name of austere measures

While quaffing champagne, that to me, is sin.