Anthracite

Pestilence rains from the sky and swells from cracks

with curses of uselessness thrown in any direction

and it’s hilarious

a man fights another man for glory but no care at all

with wailing women and crying brats bathed in their blood

and it’s satisfying

sickness and floods gobble at humanity like a famished wolf

with a net i catch the wretched souls as their light dies

and it’s easy pickings

it is with great amusement and bewilderment i thank you

for without your belief and devotion i would not be the Devil

and God would not have made me, or the darkness

———————————————————————————————————————

Isaiah 45:7

I form the light and create darkness, I bring prosperity and create disaster; I, the LORD, do all these things.

An example of the simplest of relationships

the bird perched within a tree

and oh how we wish

it was that easy

for all them

and especially

me

A Gnome was not terribly happy with his height

its true he was rather short and more than stocky

and at times he was pushed around and had to fight

so being vertically impaired made life somewhat rocky

He was ancient by anyone’s account and hooned round on a trolley

and rather virile for a Gnome a bit over a thousand by just a tad

for that and other things, (mainly raspberry buns) he was mostly jolly

so counting his friends and Gnomey powers being short wasn’t that bad.

There is nothing left now

of the humanity that was us

not even tears satisfy anymore

all that is left is to cast a stone

and hope i am the one left

to stand and claim victory

and teach children the same

Bullets sing songs of righteousness

in the name of some God

claiming the land in his name

it is their right it is said

my fathers, fathers, father

and beyond, have lived here

feeding strangers and telling stories

But now there are guns in our faces

demanding the space where we stand

we listen to chants of our ignorance

the dust of their God in our mouths

bowing to this arrogant wave

and their guns in the light of day

then in the night we come back

To take what’s ours back again

A bright moon burned behind dark puffy clouds
The highwayman astride his horse, serious and proud
A white face at the end of his blade will pay the fee
For hanging his partner and love at Tyburn tree
It happened not far from the races at Barnstead Downs
A rich fat gentleman with matching purse and a frown
With duress and much puffing he climbed down from the coach
This overdressed buffoon proud to show a bright pink broach
With wide eyes his love stepped forward to admire the stone
The fat rich bastard drove a dagger in him down to the bone
His love didn’t die but begged him to go as others appeared
So he turned on his word and at his back the fat bastard cheered
These are times of God and slaves, time it is, an eye for an eye
Months he’d been waiting to hear this fat bastards death sigh
And enjoy it he’d would, yes, savouring it like cooked salted meat
As he remembered his love on a rope, choking and jerking his feet
“Take my purse and be gone highwayman!” the fat bastard swore
Softly he whispered “This is no stand and deliver you bastard whore”
The ghost of his love held his hand as he stepped in and stabbed
Tears flowed, relief of revenge as the bastard gurgled and grabbed
Stepping back and wiping his blade, the moon shone highlighting the trophy
The relief overwhelming as he swung onto his horse, pulling his cloak in closely
Turning south to Bletchingley, his tricorne pulled down and shadowing his face
They would never catch Swift Stephen, highwayman, now a man with no place
A bright moon burned behind a cloud, hidden but revealing
And a highwayman astride on a horse, relieved but grieving

The moon covers me

in the night

From all feelings felt

in the day

Chemicals cover me

in the light

From all feelings

I cannot say

The future covers me

and my sight

From the past

that blocks my way

Elbow Pete was an awful bloke and a terrible slimy bully

I kept it to myself but his head was never in the game fully

His head was no excuse but he’d killed folks with a nail and a bat

And we weren’t all angels and fairies, this town had seen to that

But he got around unafraid, breaking people just for fun

So I took action, made a plan and got a Big Arsed Gun

In the morning I took my B.A.G and a breakfast of coke and pie

Stepped to the street called courage and shot the bugger right in the eye

He wailed and squawked like a little sissy then fell down right on his ass

With a hand to his face but not yet dead all because his eye was glass

But it sure calmed him down and he was sorry, sorry for being such a dick

And thankful they were as I took a bow, now they know me, Ricochet Rick

The Avatar 1

A man in a suit the colour of a can

A worker ant this pale hollow man

Not sure why he is here but is anyway

With grey thoughts of his ultimate decay

Occasional thoughts drifting off wide and far

But its only fleeting, realising he’s just an Avatar

The Avatar 2

A man with no suit stands by the sea

A worker for land from all he did flee

Having many processions but left anyway

Leaving grey thoughts and their ultimate decay

Occasional thoughts drifting to the city afar

And on the sand it lay, the skin of the Avatar

Crying and wailing to the stars as if they are really listening
Treated with contempt so it seems, fuelling your burning ego
Teeth are bared as all your so called problems are before you
And you take a rod to their creator, this dirty filthy Mexican

Grinning at the beating given, on your brow sweat is glistening
Someone to blame makes your mistakes so much easier to let go
So harder you strike, kick and abuse not caring from where it grew
And it’s just and fair until its realised you are the dirty Mexican

Self-flagellate if you must, just leave everyone else out of it.