GOLEM HEIGHTS
Ah Golem, they call you Yossele
They say you can make yourself invisible
And raise spirits from the dead
Then you rest on the Sabbath
On your dark and bloody bed
Ah Golem, kneaded into your shapeless husk
Created by the sages
Return to your dust.
Ah Golem, man of clay
You bowed before us once
Give us our bread today.
IDLE MUSINGS
Right now,
I do not need the demon lover
Or the secret longings
Which call me from the deepest shadows.
I only want lies…
Sweet and sensual lies…
Easing me into peace.
Or make them truths if you so desire
But tell me nothing
That…
I do not need…
To hear
NOISE
Decibelisation was old
When Dresden’s china charred the ashes
When the war to end all wars
Turned Flanders fields to mushy poppies
When Cromwell’s convoys rattled on
The cobbled streets of old Kilkenny
And still,today, those echoes throb
When walking down a quiet lane, I hear
The rumbles of some distant noisy mob.
MILLENNIALS
Millennials are cool
Millennials rule
When millennials go to school
And when millennials get sick
They stay at home
Because they are not thick
Unlike non-millennials
Who do deserve some stick.
Millennials are never sad
Though they are sometimes bad
The way millennials can be
Because they have history
On their side.
Millennials are mostly bilingual
And sometimes nonwhite
Millennials are never racist
And they seldom talk shite
Millennials deserves some veneration
Because Millennials come bearing gifts
From the silent generation
CATCHER IN THE RYE – THE MAN WHO SHOT JOHN LENNON
More popular than Jesus are you
And what if I shoot you
Will I be more popular too?
That is the question you see
Why are The Beatles more popular than me?
And so I did what others would not dare
There was no moral or religious reason
It was just John Lennon hunting season
And the bright lights of infamy and fame shone brightly right there.
Imagine there’s no John Lennon,
I had sung the night before
And now there wasn’t anymore
Because I shot him four times in the back
And watched him die
Then carried on reading a chapter
Of The Catcher in the Rye.
I had ended the life
Of a man I did not know
And as somebody told me I must leave
I just stood there thinking
‘But where would I go?’
EINSTEIN’S EYES
Einstein’s eyeballs
Are in a jar
In a safe deposit box
Somewhere in New York
His brain is somewhere in the vicinity too –
not altogether in one piece admittedly –
A bacon slicer was allegedly utilised.
His wish was to be cremated
And his ashes scattered in a secret location
But if it happened
It was minus the aforementioned parts.
‘Having his eyes means his life was not ended’
He’s not dead because I have his eyes’
So says Henry Abrams
The current keeper of those genius eyes
(though rumours are that an auction is imminent)
‘He’s not dead because I have his eyes’
How creepy is that?
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THE HOODED MAN AT MY BED
The hooded man at the foot of my bed
Speaks to me
Of all creation
Since the Big Bang
Being measured by the products of decay.
Insanity, chaos, corruption
Lies, rot, ruin
Sickness, dirt and rust
Shed cells, dead cells, atrophy
Sweat, ashes and dust
That at a subatomic level
Create new mass.
And this goes on infinitely.
He talks of forbidden fruit and original sin
Walking into the light
Into streets paved with gold
Of extraterrestrials, gurus, ghosts
Paradise
And mixing with heavenly hosts
Of hell and reincarnation
Being healed
Raised from the dead
Coming back as a lumberjack
A raven
Or a hunchback
Where will it all end?
I mean to ask my hooded friend
But suddenly he is nowhere to be seen.
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ELVIS AIN’T DEAD
Another juggernaut rocks the Van
But Van just smiles
And sings Brown-eyed Handsome Man.
Then The Lady in Red joins in
And Chris De Burgh bangs loudly on a tin.
You Ain’t Nothin’ But a Houndog
Can be heard from up ahead
And a squeaky voice pipes up
Hey, Elvis ain’t dead!
He drivin’ that big old truck up front.
Goddamn! Says Bo Diddley
Ain’t he some cupid stunt!
TROPIC OF CANCER
Men of Zanzibar
Men of Tierra Del Fuego
Men of Yucatan
Save me from these glaucous times
The hate piles up before me
Like glacial fjords
With blue-tipped spines.
The obscure religious chants
Spread like an avalanche
From Etna to the Aegean
‘Seize every woman
Kill every man’
They’re butchering the sacred cow;
All the world’s a desert now.
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