There’s got to be a way to beat the blues

There’s got to be a way to beat the blues
I need to get more wear now from these shoes
Whenever I take out
The recycling I seem to doubt
There’s got to be a way to beat the blues

Well there’ got to be a way to beat the blues
Nailed down on me like a coffin lid
Sometimes I stop to see
A funeral that could be me
There’s got to be a way to beat the blues

So I’ve carried these blues such a long time
All across the northern hemisphere
So I stare up at the stars and I wonder
What’s it like to live now without fear

Well there’s got to be a way to beat the blues
Maybe that’s why I’m staring at the news
Looking far and wide
For a love here by my side
There’s got to be a way to beat the blues

The song of Ancient Empires

Egypt grew along the length of the great river
they had their pharaoh as god and they built great royal buildings
then they conquered the smaller nations around them and Egypt grew great.

Then the Assyrians came with swords and bows and shields
and the Assyrians were a cruel and warlike people
and they wanted Egypt as a prize and they invaded and conquered them
and Assyria became greater and ruled over Egypt

then the Babylonians came with swords and bows and chariots
and they conquered Assyria and Egypt and they became greater still.
Then one day the Persians came in huge numbers
but thinking they were invulnerable they held a drunken party inside their great walls
but the Persians dammed up the river Euphrates
then they entered the unguarded gates of Babylon
and they conquered them and Persia became greater still

But the Persians wanted to be even greater than they were already
and to conquer the troublesome Greeks and open the path to Europe,
so they sent a great horde of soldiers and a great fleet of ships
but they were defeated by the Greeks greater strategy
then a great king grew up who returned the war to the Persians and he conquered them
and the Greeks became the greatest of the greatest

Then the Romans grew strong with great marching armies
they marched against the Greeks and defeated them and took their empire
and the Romans became supremely great

But the Christians were born and they grew in numbers by word of mouth
and they talked of peace and long life and they conquered the Romans with words of love and peace
but the Romans diluted the words of peace with their own words
and conquered the Christians and changed them with their own beliefs

then the King of Kings, the Christian king came against them and his army was invincible
and the Romans and their progeny were conquered
and the peaceful words of the Christians became supreme above all other things
and Egypt, Assyria and Babylon, Persia, Greece and Rome were no more

Not more fleas, please!

not more of your fleas, please
i said to the cat
as i scratch a bare patch
with the cat attached
like velcro
to my tweeds

not more of your fleas, please
i plead
as i jump to my knees
while the cat stares
absurd as a curd
wide-eyed at the birds
in the coconut trees

Sing Chandler Bing

sing chandler bing
take wings
chandler sing
chandler King
on the wing
do your thing and sing

sing chandler sing
always joe e king
on the wing
you wasp – a little lost
in the frost
where i cling

chandler bing sing
rattle that bling
for the queens and the kings
royal applause
laughter of course
you’re always the clown
chandler bing

Cursed by the voice

Cursed by the voice of depression
I can sit in my chair for days
–  gone by – !!!
I can sit in my chair
waiting for the train . . .
for someone to say
yes you can cry all you want.
– sitting in my chair alone
all-day: part shadow, part human being who?
all day long on a winters day
as the cat comes in,
I feed the cat, the cat feeds me
I am the cat sleeping all-day:)
on a winters day all night
on a winters night as the day passes by
and the night seeks me out
with the voice of depression
a unique voice, unique to me
made of the atoms from my own history
on my well-worn seat of a sofa where I sit
a sofa, from a skip
in the wreckage of a life
wrecked by the haunted rage
from the wolfman of marriage
surrounded by the black and white film
of an old TV.
Hello Mr Depression wolf
what you got for me
another day alone
as you eat the gnome
molecule by molecule
memory by memory

th69XISOX8

 

 

Who Rocks England Now: 1/ Working Routine

Who Rocks England Now
1/ Working Routine

I’m thinking of something new to do, possibly dangerous, not based in experience, almost experimental. A good working routine is scrapped but like a machine, any routine can be hazardous to a novice, like a machine that swallows someone’s hand and jams up. And emotionally a cold calculating working routine especially someone else’s imposed upon you is as easy to follow as a barbed-wire fence in no man’s land.

I’m just not capable of daily work routines. My mind and my heart are simply at war with each other and a daily work routine creates a no man’s land of exhausting battles.
The working routine I was thinking of is a social one. The one of peaceful direction, that goes with the ebb and flow of life and creates stability, in which you can work and grow. That isolates the inner problems and gives you a chance to deal with them, talk about them, get them under control.
Life is like a box meant to contain gold but is filled with trivia.
Get rid of the trivia find the gold.

2/ the Metal Spider in Love

In love: I have the voice of a dead dog on the bright cold full moon drowning. The dog comes to life without a belly, a vertebra, in a coarse hide of dog hair that groans quietly in the brown night, musky and sad-eyed.

In love: I am a hand full of salt thrown at a woman.
I have the voice of a black lacquered cardboard wireless sound cone, home of the metal spider.
Her long porcelain swan neck cracks, her eyes float off, they pierce into me.

In love: I am the bomb blasted bits of a body disintegrating into nothingness, with droplets of flesh and blood evaporating into the Nagasaki sun.

In love: I am the reflection cut out of the mirror with scissors and placed on a billboard where at the slightest touch of the wind that blows through the whole advertisement vanishes.

In love: I am a castle with a soldier on the battlements filling his bow with rubber arrows to fend off the elephant’s stone desires.
I crawl and scrawl through the city of dreams like half of a prickly casing of a sea urchin housing carried by a red muddy turtle.
How swollen together are the steel gates of my vocal cords, how chained to the wall are my kisses. How like a doormat is my heart – do not say “forever”.

A dream is a fire tool, but it needs special material to make it work afterwards; to make it merge with reality; to make it react with the magic of suggestive items; to blend its shadows into them; to hook up into the heart a new biological drive of abandoned motivations and lost hopes.

I remember the terror of seeing my father’s death often. I became like a wooden cabin wall surrounding him, then maybe I became a coffin, is he inside still dying, living, dying, living, dying and there is enormous grief, storm clouds of grief, horror, terror at the prospect of life-ending, that tomorrow comes too soon.