Vagrant – Page 4 – The Warrior of Poetry: The Poetry archive

A Clean Sheet Before You Go

Accountable for your extremes now you’re in a sweat the last week, write it down, how many times did you run away.

Write your sins down the clock is ticking you cannot ask your parents for they are but dead and the rest of us are dying, you want a clean sheet before you go, I am panicking god has given me the final cathartic challenge to clear my sins, to save the soul.

There are now four days to go and the clock is ticking, tick tock, my head on the block Jesus Christ avoid hell, what did I say the inquistion arrived in the last days .

John & Pancreatic Pete Ride Again Que The Music…

phead

Brazier under the canal bridge flaming holes fiercely flaming pluto John and pancreatic Pete sit as meditating beings of a kind… road kill rabbit rolling on an abstract metal rod flame head billowing from a redundant oil barrel, bright the shadowy duo poking the urgent flames with intent, they are hungry beyond any food banks.

The charmed simplistic brotherhood of the fire keeps a talking culture alive in the reality of poverty, permeation so disengaged from an expanding world of White Diamond and Eight Ace lager, taking over there one known world that is burning itself out, as they gaze at the final flames under a canal towpath bridge with the sound of faint but audible friendship . Pissheads, happy pissheads, causing no harm to mobody, rule Britainia.

Are You Happy Dear God.

god

The tide of immorality washing scum on the beach filthy brown detritus of filth agitated by power surge, tides washed, agitated, graded. The worst left upon the sand and back out with the tides too much sin no conscience the sea carries, taking life with no mercy are you happy dear god.

Jewels Of The Night

The days are running out and the nights are catching up the darkness is spreading the stars have gone, universal jewels of the night are tired and our faith has not been restored so best tuck up under the covers and wake up in another world.

I laugh, I cry, People Watch Me As They Walk On By.

Lying in state a quick break from the worm, breaking away from the underpinning I am ripened like an old joint, cursed with dodgy seed, trust today and tomorrow I live here moulded in a corner curled as a rat in dead nest.

The night faded and the day lifted I am a down in my own time, I laugh, I cry, people watch me as they walk on by. Life not so serious if your sat with me, I read the newspaper, cut the eyes from a politician, pretend I’m deaf they never listened.

I’m a mute mug shot of madness divine enough to be different no vanity in the vagrant, I am waiting for them to take me all away, wish I could stay up in this corner I lived around here as a boy with rampant laughter and nothing else but joy Mason Cult .