Evolution

The art of cleanliness started with your immaculate pants.
I can only sit now, sit in this home town jail, minutes away from pulling the covers and soaking up the blood from the ceiling,
knowing
that everybody wanted to sleep with stick figures,
that the fix was seen in fixtures.
Now that you have been mastered,
I am too old and I haven’t grown up,
the hours are spectacular,
we are all moved and settled.

On the side of the road, barely clean, the bums have become the jesters in the court of the nether and higher lands,
brevity is levity, the ant farm has patented patterns, the ax to cut the cord is in a museum,
Where’s the terrible racket now?
When revolution turned out to be evolution the scorpion revealed itself to be a spider and wrapped the turtle in silk.

I buried the axe and smiled at the pretty girls so I’m gradually losing my head, and I want Artemis to notice me but the generous goddess is at the guillotine
and these words, these words are not enough to save her.
The children of my emptiness are clinging to me, saying “death to you and your apathy, if you don’t do something, Cleopatra is going to get a nose job,
Hades is rubbing his knuckles together...”

My conscience resides in a box. I set it on fire and scatter half of the ashes over the Atlantic Ocean, away from prying eyes. I keep churning up reasons to fall and maul the casket I was born in, but man at the bottom of the pit absence is the only way to fight decay. There remains no up and down.

Only the highway is peaceful.
Rabbits welcome headlights as the promise of a warm afterglow.
Poor hopeful bastards.

I Long For This Moment As It Happens

All your sisters settle down
All your brothers fuck around
How that works I've never found

I must think much of you
to spend my debating
whether or not I think you're even worth hating

A road stretches underneath
forever and ever
my eternity is set to meet me
in evening trains at the hands of LIONS and JACKALS

Honey I should tell you
I sleep without a bed
He burned it in a garden fire
many years ago
Never saw that man again
with his darting eyes it's no surprise he tried to kiss you
Couldn't hold his liquor

I heard he's clean and sober now
Yeah he sleeps like a Buddhist
he stuffed his pillow with the feathers of a thousand yellow roses

Genie, genie, what's your name?
prove to me I'm not insane
When you left the bottle it was filled with pills,
a bitter reminder that life's full of thrills.

The sweet taste of Sweden
my garden of Eden
My Eve grew up singing songs in New York
but my soul has been sold to the attic

I almost took the quick route to love and salvation
but daddy I got stuck at an empty train station
when a bum in a corner told me to get it together and carried on living

God don't exist but I'm afraid to be free
Political apocalypse ain't good enough for me
cause the newsmen keep looking for nothing to see

How many times have I sat at this table
engaging myself in conversation
patiently waiting for new inspiration.