Cod

The tide rules in
The boats flight out
And the gigantic Cod
Has no more Clout

The Shudder

I hate that wail
That teary wail
I'd rather it Hail
That hear that most upsetting wail

Even in the afternoon
Especially in a darkened room
Particularly when I seen the moon
And I know the wail will be here soon

But without the wail
Yes without the wail!
My heart would fail
And I would wail.

Try To Have A Merry Christmas

And so it came around again
The summer's gone -
The days of chasing sun drops in the park.
This is now, and that was then
And so the night succumbed to snow
The lamplights glow
And huddled under blankets we will go
The hazy days a dream we thought could never end
Well, we were wrong,
But try to have a merry Christmas, friend.

Now and now

Now and now I feel
As though the timer moves
But the lovers lose.
Now and now I know
That the cards all choose
The lover that I know I'll lose.

Sometimes It Rains

Sometimes messages we transmit
To one another
Fall like rain.
Sometimes messages we permit
To one another
Pour like pain.

Either way, we lose
One way or the next.
I change from grateful
To sincere
And effect my ego.

Sometimes it rains
On wedding days.
Sometimes it rains.

A Hidden Place

Before this year, I should make clear
Were darkened paths where light would jeer
Then holidays and the time that's free
Would be no more than shadows that only my eye could see
So grim a view from the window in my room
The social whirl cast aside for living in a tomb
My Hidden Place you call a heart
Had given up yearning and started crumbling apart.

Then from a flash of light in a musty corner, I heard a lively voice say,
"These dreams are never over, I see your hidden place, can I come and stay"
I wandered most carefully forward, not quite sure if the light was for me
But the voice spoke like Angels in springtime, so I stepped from the shade of the tree.
Now my story is far from over, a beginning is starting once more
And the hidden place i left to slumber is accessed through an open door.

The Tumbleweed Memories Alphabet Of The Alternative Part 8

The House On The Edge Of The Park
Never looking not too far from the bottom of the cinematic barrel, Italian cinema tried it's best to copy any remotely popular movie and then up the violence with more than a hint of spaghetti sauce and paremesan cheese. Wes Craven's unnerving grimy shocker The Last House On The Left provided the template for The House On The Edge Of The Park and Last House star David Hess jumped on board this EVEN more unpleasant piece of film bringing his oily sneer and grindhouse charm.
Hess and his partner in filth (Italian cult star Giovanni Lombardo Radice) gatecrash an upscale party in New York and during the course of the night humiliate the guests with grotesque scenes of rape, disco dancing and straight razor abuse. Eventually (In a plot twist that may make you want to throw a bottle of J&B Whiskey at the screen) the devilish Hess gets exactly what is coming to him: in case you want to revel in his demise, director Ruggero Deodato makes liberal use of a slow motion effect so that his death throes seem to last a full weekend.
Offensive is the key word here, but in this politically correct landscape, it's also a guilty pleasure, copious swearing, retina scorching 80's outfits and "grab you by the balls" attitude result in a film that's good for all the wrong (or maybe right) reasons.

Chimes

From up on high, all I hear is the chimes
When I come down from the sky, all I feel is the chimes
With the love I failed to spy, when I miss the chimes
And the times alone and I cry, then I do and stop the chimes

Chimes

Nowhere

I thought I'd fly aeroplanes

Exclamation Mark

!

To those who didn't see that coming, do we a quick favour. Check your pulse.
To those who did see that coming, I'm not handing out plaudits, it's hardly Quantum Theory is it.

What Do Snakes Know?

Shoot. Maximise. Once, Twice, Thrice.
Thrice, Twice, Once.
Even the Elephants fall down.
And the Snake must wait.

But................................

Eight

You were a dangling Octopus, just sitting on the ocean floor
When your inky head turned the wrong way and you were living in the ocean no more.
You sailed on a boat to a harbour and found yourself tossed onto stone packed in ice
Then some creature with only two hands chopped your eight off and started to fry.
You were just a dangling Octopus with no malice or grudge no, no frown
Now you're a starter in a fancy diner and your tentacles are the talk of the town.

When Every Answer Is Petrol

I always need petrol
No not the metaphoric kind
I always need petrol
For this life cannot be timed.

I'll never go without petrol
Not in my truck but in me
I'll never go without petrol
For the woman who grounded me like a tree.

I'm going to be storing petrol
Not in a tank but in my heart
I'm going to be storing petrol
So that we never, ever fall apart.

Mistaken Suicide Note

You're my regular gun
I'll only shoot you
When rats run.
I'll pick you up,
And stroke the metal
I pretended to polish
When my hand slips
Should a bullet spaceship
Bust my skull

Spaceshipping

The night is just the day without sunlight
I realise that's obvious
I'm running on.
This life is just the way without Venus
I realise I'm oblivious
I'm spaceshipping on.
When I get to Neptune
When I get to Neptune
When I get to Neptune...
I will call.

Blue Grid

Fuck blue dot creeping closer
Grey grid, squares going nowhere.
And I just got wicked for you
And I just got wicked
And I only just got serious
For you.

Bottles

You are petrol
Burning
And burning
On the road
On the road
To earning.
I'm living for plastic
Oil reserves fantastic.
We're dead bottles.

Ghost Robot

Ghost robot
All wires
And disappearance
And subterfuge
Plug you in
You win.
Ghost robot.

Sungrass

I'm mowing sungrass,
Taking rainclouds from dewdrops
I'm running through these hazy days
In purple ways
I'm running down and run regrets
And running out of cigarettes.