Sounds, as thick as weather
As dense as pigments
Green thunder
Blue lightning
Grey wind
Red heat
Black storm-clouds
As soon as the phone rings
I am struck by blue lightning
As soon as the door is knocked upon
I am engulfed in black storm-clouds
A catfight
Hits me with a grey hurricane wind
A car-horn outside
Warms me up with red heat
The wrong program on TV
Pummels my head with green thunder
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
She loves to make animations
Of little things that move about
She is their dotting mother
And they will never be without
The dark Thames floods her heart
With its inky black night
And drowns her little children
Their happiness, her spell of light
For somewhere beneath her tower
A gateway openly calls
To the ravens of the dark side
To invade her walls
She’ll describe her little creations
As moving creatures of light
Then the darkness intervenes
And they become the prey of night
From a proud and smiling mother
Into a furious mournful maid
The mortality of life is found
In the animations she made
