First Consciousness

When I was in my late teens
I left school and I dived into the abyss
When I was late
I dived into the abyss of my teens

The late ocean of my teens
Was like Leonardo’s dark flood
Sky and abyss were baked in a pie
When I saw their endlessness, I thought I would die

The Dustbin Kid

I climbed out of my dustbin
Like a cartoon boy from a comic
I climbed out of my dustbin
I put on my ne glasses and I saw the moon and stars looking back at me

I climbed out of my dustbin
That the dustman never emptied
And I went straight to the ironmonger
And I brought a brand new dustbin
It shone like a cannon shell outside the front door of the house

I climbed out of the dustbin
I pretended to open a door
Inside the sea growled at me

I climbed out of my dustbin
In a fish skeleton t-shirt
And baked bean can trousers

I climbed out of my dustbin
Where I had been lot for all my youthful years

A dustbin was my home
I was such a dirty kid
I had sardine can shoes
And I wore a dustbin lid

I climbed out of my dustbin
To zee the new adult world frame one
It was Godzilla versus the dustbin kid
It was a stick insect verses king Kong

Every house on the housing estate
Had a dustbin outside
I went searching through them all

Looking for a friend
Looking for a girlfriend
Looking for education
Looking for work
Looking for an undertaker
Looking for me

The twentieth century was a land of dustbins
The most needed, most used commodity

For wasted lives
For wasted politics
For the wasted years progress
For no-hopers

Then I realized that hope had nothing to do
Ith the twentieth century or any century
It operated on a different level to society

It made the trees, the meadows and the seas
It made everything that humanity could not make
It made life in the rivers and life in the skies
And it crunched up dustbins like chocolate wrappers

Your personal truth

Your personal truth
Does not stand a chance
If it’s standing in a bucket of wee

Your personal truth
Will not be broadcast
If you’re swinging from a tree

Your personal truth
Your personal news
Is swept away with a broom
Your personal truth
Is perceived as shit
On the dark side of the moon

It is graded
From the day you were born
It is graded
From the first scream of morn
It is too complicated for cat and dogs
And for children
On the broomsticks of June

Your personal truth
Gets worked
Into the general yam
Your personal truth gets
Put in a circus
Where all the animals are banned

Now the grizzly bear and the yeti
Are laughing their socks off at you
They walk on their paws across the outdoors
And they don’t care about your personal truth

Laugh I could have truthed all over the floor