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it's done and dusted
the buckets need to be emptied
a red one and a blue one
water that was once used
to wash dirt off vegetables
noise hissing from the speaker
I lose all control over my mental faculties
with my brain turning to mud
unable to process the present before the future
perception buzzing off on tangents
as all events get blurred into one
I enter through a back window
trying to be as inconspicuous as possible
tip-toeing around trouble and obstacles
as the synthesizer kicks into action
floating on the back of a Willy Wagtail
things could not get more sublime
then it all just slowly fades away:
the dreams, the dreams within a dream

WHITE PICKET FENCE

you shallow poison
you swallow everything
just so you can be safe
never have to question
what you've been told
you watch all the wrong shows
ingesting in bourgeois crap
prefabricated American rubbish
digesting their innards
stomach indoctrination pills
now you are ready to shine
catch the same bus again
for another day on repeat
go home to a mini mansion
you have made it, you smile
you have everything you need
yet you still want more stuff
the prescription has repeats
pop another pill to feel normal
feed the dog and then the kids
sip some wine, just desserts
invite all your friends over
to look at the white picket fence
you'll be the envy of them
the ones who haven't made it
but you have made it
your mother will be so proud
you work like a horse
so you can have all these things
then you go home to your fence
and again it all repeats

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last night
another night
early
bird catches
nothing
all the days
blend
into one whole

CITY ON FIRE

I had a dream 
the city was on fire
concrete burning
even though concrete
does not burn
people screaming and running
in a flight of mad panic
every man for himself
women being shoved aside
a stampede of scared creatures
windows being smashed
shops being looted
3D televisions up for grabs
junkies helping themselves
to morphine and benzos
where do people's priority lie?
consumerism and spectacles
entertainment and escapism
forget about the the essentials
as for myself, what did I do?
I was stealing some books
all the Penguin classics

BEYOND BOREDOM

everything that can be said
has been said a million times before
there's nothing new to say here
another bittersweet reprise
same old haunting memories
same old cast of characters
engaging in risky, almost novel activities
exploring new pathways of perception
such is the life of a tortured man
who previously had no life at all
when we resist reality as it is
we are opening up the floodgates
to beauty and ecstasy beyond
our everyday, banal experience
the path of least resistance
is the path to self-destruction
it is a shortcut to the death of the spirit
but a promenade mired in complexity
shows us breathtaking new colours of reality
or that which transcends the boredom
of our repetitive day to day experience
there are many planes of actuality
far removed from the mundaneness
of our everyday pilgrimage from point A
which leads predictably to point B
there is much more to life than the banal
to discover this vast new world of bliss
all it takes is courage and openness
so unfurl your wings, set your sights high
and join us on the adventure of a lifetime
it may just add years to your life
or at least open it up to infinite possibilities
where everything we covet is within reach
there is much more to life than boredom

ANOTHER CLICHED REPRISE

there are rhymes flowing through my cranium
incomplete and twisted with rage in them
yes, I refuse to follow their fashion
I am driven by anger and jaded passion
I'm writing these words to procrastinate
because I simply can't concentrate
on the task in front of my eyes
absorbing the words of the wise
thinking all about societal lies
staring into the emptiness in Tony's eyes
this is yet another clichéd reprise
repeated over and over, myriads of times
the same words flowing through my mind
as I get myself ready to rant and whine
spitting out the acerbic words of an iconoclast
destroying all the institutions of the past
this is serious, this is class war you see
send the cuntish cretins to the guillotine
or rob them blind and burn their money
build a world based on love and equality
where we can all be healthy and free
there's a knife flying through the backdoor
an album full of photos shot in RAW
the pent up frustrations of a man who's bored
this isn't a picnic or a game, it's class war

SELF-DESTRUCTION BANDAID

there's a gaping hole in my soul,
a place devoid of ambition.
I find it difficult to escape
from these feelings of emptiness
or not feeling anything at all
like a guinea pig on Prozac.
my life is the boredom epitomised,
as I lay here waiting for something,
anything to happen to me at all.
nothing ever happens to me,
but another insignificant journey
to the middle of a barren desert.

motivation has slipped away,
or at least what was left of it.
days repeat like groundhog day:
nothing special, nothing bad,
emptiness on display in a window.
is happiness but another illusion,
something we search for in vain?

I am darkness personified,
hanging on to my sanity
by the thinnest of threads.
you took me by the hand
led me away, led me astray
like a dog without a leash.
I am beholden to your will,
under your darkest spell,
as I scratch around and search
for something beyond the abyss.

you take me to a brighter place:
a place where pain fades away
and everything is magnificent.
myriad colours, words and stars
swirl around in graceful unison.
if only it could be like this everyday,
days filled with fun and beauty.

I stalk you or do you stalk me?
I seek out your company
at every available opportunity,
fully knowing how toxic you are.
you are the bane of my existence:
you will be the death of me one day.
yes I know this all to well,
yet I keep on running back to you.

and so the cycle repeats
over and over and over again.