John Vander John

(She tiptoed through the rushes
"Don't hate me," she whispered
"Because I run from everything
And nothing.")

Her face was a shadow of smeared eye-liner
As she fled back down the hallway
After half-an-hour of denial
There say simply nothing more to say.

His eyes were burned raw from crying
As he stared blankly out the window
At the sight of summer gently dying
In the windy streets below.

She's melancholy
And he's losing his mind
Life's just cost him his job
And left all his dreams behind
He's stranded on a beach
In the middle of the ocean
And he only sees his father
In himself again.

And now her back's against the wall
Trapped down a filthy alleyway
And help's too far away to call
Her past has caught her up today
He never wanted this at all
He only wanted to be free.

Anti-semite Warhead

Some days it isn't worth
Smiling at yourself
As you emerge from sullen sleep
With those promises to keep
"I'm sure I'll craft myself
Into a fitter better person."

Laughing at yourself
Over a bowl of kornflakes
You find the sun strangely reminiscent
Of a nuclear warhead
To put the brakes on
Spooning in another mouthful.

But I'll dance into
The misty streets
And play upon gravel-paths
I think it could be worth the laughs
Or maybe I'm content to dream
Where my head is so comfy.

I don't want to get up today
I just want to go back to sleep
I don't think I could do it anyway.
And promises will keep
Till a more promising day.

Oregamy sweater

Jim came home
On his new Harley
Drowning out the neighbourhood
In a fearful racket
In his big leather jacket.

Lincon runs
Well on Tuesdays
All over the muddy city
He couldn't do better
In his oregamy sweater

Nobody knows
Where the trains hide
In the long, dusty evenings
Lurking like sharks
In the thickening dark

But Jim couldn't care less
Flying along
Totally wrong
Totally helpless
But helping himself.
And Lincon, he never worries
He runs straight
Through the gates
And out the other side
In the new morning air.

The coaches they run
Their inevitable circuits
Not stopping for breakfast
For lunch or for tea.
And I bet they get tired
Glued to the wires
Till infinity,
Wanting to be free.

But Jim couldn't care less
Thundering round
The alibaster town
Totally ignorant
Totally wrong
And Lincon watches the road signs
To see if he's heading
Down the wrong way
It's a rather long way
To the office.

The gangling trumpeter

The boy done wrong again
He sold us all a lie
And now he's off down the road
On his three wheeler bike.

The boy done wrong again
All we want is the truth
And maybe a refund
But what is the use?

That boy's on the wrong path
He's off on the warpath
Burning bridges
Like its a game of chess
But who'll get the last laugh
When he's up to his neck?

Semisentient hum

Simon, are you married to work again?
Does your wife stay up all night
Wondering where you've been
Wondering who you've seen
But you know where you're heading
Little wonder everyone
Only gets in the way.

Annibel, shake another hand
Smile and breathe another lie
You now understand
And it's driving you mad
Isn't it so sad
That progress get's you nowhere
If you're tethered to the land.

Little boy, on your bicycle
Through the rubble strewn streets
Do you wonder where the cars have gone?
Or if they'll be back again
And why the nights run so long.
In the silence hum your song
Between the chorus of the guns
Just to keep the monsters at bay.

Anthony, lawyer proffessing
Another knowitall,
Standing round confessing
To all you've been molesting
Their very way of life
Just another way to strike out
Against the looming void
You always seem so small.

Black and White Stares

When the curtains close
With their familiar hiss
When times starts to miss
In it's glacial flow
Light flashes on inside
And eyelids shutter out
Sanity has naught to shout
About, the mind-releasing ride
Till the working day hum
Is reduced to a murmur
A screaming lemure
With some mouldy stick gum
Caught in its feral grip
Beady eyes blood
Shot, tears of mud
And on the clock ticks
Neither knowing or caring
In the land of the living.


Along the chest crawling
With slowness deliberate
Seeking to contemplate
The moments drawing
Tantalising near
Broken bones
Broken homes
Feeding on the fear.
Mouth agaping mess
Snarling or smiling
Always reviling
Those not snatched by death
Alive and twisted
Twisting perception
Jagged ganglion
Sweat marianaded.
All the better for eating.
Till curtains open
And lights breathe on
And on the clock ticks
Neither knowing nor caring
In the land of the breathing

Streetcorner (Old Man Crying)

Are you afraid of your reflection
When it is right before your eyes?
Do you run from every chasm?
Is the darkness your surprise
When it's rising up to greet you
With its life enscorceling grasp?
Do you wonder every breath you take
If it is going to be your last?

You cannot outrun the inevitable
Until it gets you, you don't know that it is
Standing on a cliff-top
With a loaded double-barrel
Has no guarentee to give.

When dinosaurs are driven over the edge

Someone's laughing
'Cause I'm new at being me.
Someone's behind me
And I know it to be true
Seems like a shadow
Always comes my way
Just when I'm getting used to
The sun.

Sometimes the wind
Seems to blow in my face
Even when I turn
And walk the other way.
Sometimes I hear voices
Calling my name
But I can never hear what they say
To me.

They're felling a grove
Just beyond the back fence.
It's been around
A thousand years or so.
But somebody
Just moved in
And it's spoiling the view
In the twilight.

Pick-up lines
Are a slap in the face.
A shape on the doorstep,
Bearing roses and dreams.
Sometimes a perfect evening
Is a nightmare come true
Because nothing is what it seems
To be.

The music's too loud
And it's killing my ears
Just another mix
Of rythm and death.
But on the bus home
It's my own little world
As transient and fragile as breath
In the wind.

Don't listen to the doorman
He's away on drugs
He's getting them cheap
If he fixes you up
And smoking will kill you
If society won't
Or you don't find your solace in a cup
Or a rope.

Undenied
Underpaid
It seems that you'll finally
Get your own way.
Till the reforms come through
And you're out of a job.
You never should have
Spoken up.
The weather is fine
But it may piss down
Any minute now
Did you bring an umbrella?

The twilight scudded across the sky like a cream bun across a pond

Laughs sometimes run
Like cream from a bun
Just when your having fun
It's jumped the gun
And you're dead and done.
Like a dead man walking.


Yawn.
Sleep time methinks.

Barbarous Allsorts

Calliper Catepillar
Dungeon Digger
Run for gold

Effluent Efficiency
Frequent Fraternity
Do as you are told.

Monsoon Bucket

Outside in the rain
The garbage is weeping
With great murky tears
That runnel away
To my surprise
If anyone's out there
I'm in need of a shoulder
To carry my load.

The trees they are whispering
In harsh whithered voices
The trunks carry on
With thunderous creaks
And overhead sunlight
Cascades like a fountain
Down from the heavens
To bring to us life.

On top of the mountains
The eagles are soaring
Vital, magestic
And questing for blood
I would spend some time
With the avian royalty
But I'm afraid
Of becoming endangered.

The tin of the roof-top
Is thumping a chorus
To the dissonant wind
Tearing viciously by
And I'm all alone
In my bed drinking milo
Wondering if the duvet of clouds
Hides an aqua-blue sky.