Comic Book Heroes

He stood with his mouth hanging out
With blood on his knuckles,  he broke wind
His friends were laughing like demons
The neighborhood just grinned

It was an overload of high emotions
When she offered to untie her shoe
She looked like a storm of female flesh
I knew I was in for some blues

Her baby brother ran screaming
With a needle stuck in his soul
Then he lay down dreaming
He poor boy was not so very old

The cop car came a cruising
The gang didn’t even care
It’s the same out here as in prison
And they don’t belong any where

The one like a donkey turned to face them
With a swagger as big as a bull
His arms were alive with tattoos
His face was mashed to his skull

The girl undid some more buttons
And minced right up to them and said
If someone don’t give me some whiskey
I’m sure I’m gonna wind up dead

I lost my hope of redemption
Both fire and water in my brain
Just what’s the world coming to?
I mumbled again and again

Baby brother lay moaning
His jeans were ripped to rags
His plimsoles were tatty and dirty
With a stale loaf of bread in a bag

The cops spread out across the playground
One was asking for cool
Why don’t you all go home to mother
Or else go play a little pool

The girl bent over the bonnet
She was quickly handcuffed away
The guns came out of their back packs
Now they could have some play

They were only comic book heroes
They were drawings coloured in ink
They were a story of the imagination
By a man who had died from drink

Who’s side are we on

stop the war
A Syrian father

I don’t know how he can cope from day to day
With the threat of sudden death all the time
With the responsibility to protect his family
Or to explain to his children why there’s no food

This man running from an explosion
carrying his two daughters in his arms
Having to keep his head and not to panic
And where is his wife is he bereaved?

I don’t understand the general feeling
How people can see this and not plead
To the enemies of his home to stop the war
Who’s side are we on anyway, who’s side are we on

The Scapegoat

There is in the bible the story of the scapegoat. I have often wondered what this could mean, and why does it seem that it was abandoned. Lev 16.8,10,26

At a special ceremony in ancient Israel, the sins of the nation are figuratively loaded onto a goat that is then sent out into the wilderness. (Day of Atonement or Yom Kippur).

Perhaps then this was Gods original plan for the Messiah Jesus, that when he appeared, all of the people would be gathered together at a special ceremony and Jesus would be symbolically loaded with the sins of the nation and sent out into the desert. Everyone present would see this ceremony and understand its significance. Next, it is possible that like Enoch and like Elijah he would have been taken by God up to heaven where his sacrifice would mean the forgiveness of sins for the people. This plan meant that Jesus sacrifice would have been dealt with by God in a kind and less traumatic way then it was. 2 Kings 2;1

But this didn’t happen that way. The devil thwarted this plan. At the appearance of the Messiah Jesus, first, the devil had Judas his disciple betray him, then he got the High Priest to accuse him of blasphemy, and then he got the Roman Governor to execute him as a common criminal. This then degraded the sacrifice of the scapegoat, Jesus, in the eyes of the people so that they would be less likely to believe in it. And it was an even greater test for Jesus than was originally planned.

But still, the devil could not prevent Jesus from being taken up, after three days in the tomb by God to heaven.

Now the rule of a tooth for a tooth and an eye for an eye comes unfortunately into force. The system that took away the eye of Jesus in return will have to pay it back its own eye; the system that took away the tooth of Jesus will have to pay it back its own tooth, and the system that took away Jesus’ life will have to pay back with its own life.

So the book of Revelations wild beast, (the system), and Revelations the false prophet (its religious support or science) is faced with this kind of justice at the battle of Armageddon.

Yet The Book of Jonah shows that there will be survivors of this calamity for he was sent to ancient Nineveh to tell them of judgement on them by God and so they repented and were forgiven.

In Tudor times when anyone was a threat to the throne, they were incarcerated in the Tower of London until they could be dealt with, and so the Serpent of Revelation is also incarcerated until the end of the thousand years of Gods Kingdom when he will be dealt with.

From Encyclopedia Brittanica.

Azazel, in Jewish legends, a demon or evil spirit to whom, in the ancient rite of Yom Kippur (Day of Atonement), a scapegoat was sent bearing the sins of the Jewish people. Two male goats were chosen for the ritual, one designated by lots “for the Lord,” the other “for Azazel” (Leviticus 16:8). The ritual was carried out by the high priest in the Second Temple and is described in the Mishna. After the high priest symbolically transferred all the sins of the Jewish people to the scapegoat, the goat destined “for Azazel” was driven into the wilderness and cast over a precipice to its death. Azazel was the personification of uncleanness and in later rabbinic writings was sometimes described as a fallen angel.

Come into my home

Come into my home, to the sickbed of my wife
Sit upon her cot and give her back her life
Invisible unseen healer
Invisible unseen love

You whose home was in the stars
Whose father was the Creator
Wipe the sweat from off of your brow
And take a drink of water

My only door is open to you
My window is open wide
Come inside and sit down by my wife’s side
Invisible unseen healer
Invisible unseen love

Let her see into your eyes
And touch your perfect hand
Let her ask for mercy and let her understand
The invisible unseen healer
The invisible unseen love

Excuse me, Coronation Street

Excuse me, don’t I know you
Haven’t I seen you down the street?
Didn’t you lose your heart to a rover?
No, you don’t have to speak

I’ve been sitting here for so long
Watching stars live and die
The street has been a home from home
Since I was just a boy

I saw you at the beginning
I saw you in black and white
Now I’ve got a widescreen
And there’s nowhere now to hide

I remember the old places
I remember the old faces
How it makes my heartburn
Sitting in the Rovers Return

How the street has changed
Changed with the times they say
Reflections on a TV screen
That change from day to day

I read you’re into changes
That your character never knows
What the future will bring her
Or how her fortune grows

I stop by on a Wednesday
Just like I always do
To find out how things are going
And what’s been happening to you

And my mother died recently
She would never miss a person
The only life she seemed to know
Was the one on your show

Every second of every minute

Every second of every minute of every hour of every day
I tried to make you
Every day of every week of every month of every year
I worked to set you

Though I tied so hard
you made my heart bleed
Looking at me with your songbird eyes
from the cage of my heart.

The sky had grown a beard


The packaging was peeling from the bone
The sky has grown a beard I cried
They closed me away in the greenhouse to draw
One of my friends said to me straight
You should get your questions answered
Boy – get your questions answered
Then they opened the window and he ran away
There was a silhouette of a crucifix against the sky
The sun blazed like a sun through the dark clouds
I went to look for the dolls kept in the workshop
But they were held in gold string by the art school thief

I heard of a basement at the bottom of the steps
I went looking for the thief amongst the cellared crowds
I went looking for the dolls held by the night
I found them stolen by thieves and painted in red paint
The sky will grow its beard again I cried
When the Blue Mountains are wet with the sky
And I will pick up my guitar then and sing
As a sailor would who stood on the deck at the wheel
Now I rock my skull into place
And bury my headache in the ground
And watch the demon on the floorboard of your eyes
Burn its sorrows in the cold to keep warm

The sky will grow a beard I cried
The piano will grow legs I observed
We will collect a family and go to live in a suitcase
And become the children that our children will become
Keeping the crickets in a matchbox of tears
Mistaking the drain for a toaster of moons
Sing for our suppers before napoleons navy
Burn our witches in a faggot of steam engines
Sing our poetry from the pages of our eyes
Until there is no life left to be left
Until there is no life we will live without

You’re only young once the town cried from the snow
The Toby man latched the bolts on tight
The train came sick into the station
Its corridors lousy with diamonds
Its mirrors twisted in pain and asked for a lover
The red flag went down and we drove through a communication gap in the wall
Waving goodbye to the girls on the station
With our folders tucked under our arms into the tunnel
I could not make up my mind
Until I saw death leap from an egg
And run scared across a field
Followed by the teachers ghost ringing its bell
You’re only young once it cried after it
You’re only young once if they let you

The intermission came
I found that no one had been listening to my dream
I was alone with all that I felt
The sky will grow a beard I said to the usherette
You will find your freedom tied to a railway track
She will be saved from your love by a Valentino
Whose image you will hate when you see it laughing
The town became full of laughing images
My youth had only a short time to live
Now the only truth I can give of freedom
Is to say that the sky has grown a beard

Foot and mouth notes

A poem from 1971 summarising my experiences at Walsall Art School at age 18-22

Phillip Kelly the sculpture teacher was the beard!
The greenhouse was at the top of Walsall art school as a place for students to sketch and study natural things besides life drawing classes
I brought a crucifix in the hope it would keep the witch away
The dolls covered in red paint were a at work gone wrong and were dumped outside Mr. Kelly’s sculpture studio, representing something to do with Mr. Kelly’s wife and unborn child that died in a car accident
The basement was in a pub in the centre of Walsall where heavy rock music was played really loud
I was a drunk a lot
A depressing time i spent after art school working the winter in a frozen warehouse in Brownhills
The suitcase was the man in a suitcase TV series
The crickets were buddy holly and the crickets LP that I first heard one night in Mr. Kelly’s flat where he bedded his students
The drain was often where I ended up
A story of fellow student John who apparently mixed with ballet dancers when in Southampton university doing his art degree that he never completed, before he returned to  Walsall college in 1970ish for help and guidance
The witch was a real person who turned evil after, strangely, a car accident killed her boyfriend
I was left behind desolate as all the other students went on to do their chosen university degrees in 1969-70
Possibly fellow student John’s bereavement becoming something like a bereavement of my own but in a different way
After the end of college, I was lost and by myself and without a friend
What did I make of all that I experienced at Walsall Art School
What is freedom if not the brief imperfect experience I had of it at art school in 1969 and that I have never experienced since
Again the beard was Mr. Kelly the sculpture teacher

Media leader

Media leader
The grease of the beast
Ignore and make law
Make the populace poor
So long as you got Moses
On a mountain of gold
The people can wander
Or do what they’re told
So go climb the mountain
With crucifix fame
And when that one falls
You will get a new name

No one accepts
The way that things work
In the serpents department
The dolls always hurt
Amazed in the maze
Of burial gold
The heart is a mongoose
Broken and cold
Media leader
Detached and dead
All of their children
Will sleep in your bed

Capture and release

You were captured by an angel
And bound up in chains
All of your wardrobe
Was put out of range
Shining in the darkness
In oblivion you danced
Left in that loneliness
You succumbed to a trance
And just like in Eden
They guarded the gate
You had time to ponder
And to think of your fate

The sun rose up high
The shadows recessed
The pentagon children
Thought they were blessed
Your followers waited
They chanted your name
The army of immortals
Accepted the blame
The rebellion began
But was it a dream
The burning and screaming
Soon got things clean
And out there in Hollywood
Your star was erased
And all of your attorneys
Were buried in your grave

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