Gone for a week 16/09/86

 Gone for a week

They've gone for a week

Tremendous relief

My brain feels suddenly free. 

Long Term , Short Term 

Long divisions , Short returns

The decision lies with me. 

The dance comes full circle

Same steps but more rehearsed,

My diary still the chronicle 

The writer still the cursed!!

 

Where will the Honesty lie? Feb 2006

Where will the Honesty lie?

Where will the Honesty Lie?

When weeds do grow and tangled stems 

Searching for the light

Do blindly twist and turn before they settle for the night

And where will the honesty lie 

When genetic flowers spawn and dance at inappropriate times 

Distilling fears in blossoms of unique beauty, 

Some so small their presence sadly felt 

Such a wayward tree was spored for these? 

How Ravaged has the harvest been

By the rapid plough of the Honesty bean

When the scent is scarce 

And the trace of the flower lean 

Why hides the beauty when it comes to Honesty 

Why lies the man as he begins to climb the wretched tree?

BRICK WALL (Nico)

 BRICK WALL circa 1981

You popped around the back of the brick wall again, 

The one that isn't there,

You pinched me, so I looked through a window ,

Which you couldn't see 

Because its so obviaous, seeing as the wall 

Is purely fictitious.

I could see what you were doing with your feet

But couldn't  say so because you believe the Wall is there. 

You would think I was crazy: and would be lost if I 

Were to tell you that its all in your mind.

And when I look at what you think its made of

And how you make new motar with your feet while 

Your hands feign demolition

 I use your words and say

"How can you lie to yourself?"

DIFFERDANGE circa 1980

 DIFFERDANGE a steel town in Luxembourg. written in circa 1980 with Nico Hoschet in mind 

What keeps the town awake at night

Or should I say visitors to the town, for those who live there its the sound of security, just as to those in the country, bird song confirms another day. 

It works something like this;
After its rude explosive awakening from the long standing mountains it comes from another town 
It gets burned out 
shaped, cooled, lifted stored.
It has no say in the matter

Except its expense and resistance to heat

But they have the time and the money 

And it melts,

It's quite impressive when they actually let it out,

It spits a bit, and makes one think of winter, 

Just a spurt, a splash and a flash 

Then its loaded, transported and hidden, 

The colour slumbers, then when almost dead, grey 

And uninteresting

They start the game again, 

It goes on a new road

Red and fiery, they smash it down 

And roll it on

Spray it , squash it and

knock it back into shape

Back and forth, 

Chop off the curly bits that 

Drop into Hell Lorries,

- Pits for would be murderers.

The Man is happy there and wouldn't piss on those impressive works.

So: onto the most modern streets in the whole of Europe .

From a stubby red blistering lump

Refined to a delicate red long round T - shaped penis 

The steel glides in and out 

And we watch with the fascinated eyes of some 

Frustrated lovers in a bizarre pornographic show.

The respect is mutual, both for the burning hot penis

And the heavy handed oil spraying cunt

The after play

Thats what keeps the town awake at night, 

Static cries of prolonged agony

As the man with an eye for perfection shapes the 

Hardened Steel yet again 

It must be straight or it can't be sold