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I was writing this when my internet connection crashed, and it put me off so I didnt finish it....
The faces of angels and angles
Everyday I walk the same way, and
When I prey, I clench my hands
In a certain way, and the sky above me
Could be empty for all that I know
There's people that live round my way
That talk in different voices
And my conscience is clean, whatever you say
I never did anything
That I cannot find myself apart
Throughout, and to overcome
Sometimes you have to crawl right underneath
As low as the belly of the snake
With dirt in your eyes
And grass stains on your face
I've got scratches all over my back
And I dont feel well, sometimes
I wish there was someone else
Who's shoulder I could cry upon
You can tie me to your armchair
And slap my face and make me dance
With your electric stick
You could pull out all my finger nails
I dont deny, but you'll never
Have my sense of perspective
Dear Father, not yet in heaven
Nor hell, nor any other place
But the occupation of the space
You swallowed 50 or so years ago
I wrote this for you just to let you know
I really do hate you, and I never forgave
Im not the type, whether you think
You deserve this or that, all you'll get from me
Is the same sullen resentment and
Craven dislike. Im a lot stronger than I was
In former times, there are certain things
I would not recomend that you say
In my presence
But what do I care, and what do I know
and if you are broken, and I am broken
And if you cried, many times I wanted to
I dont really like it
When you call me "buddy" and "pal"
Cos we're not friends and we never have been
and we never will be, and I never want to
See you, actually, ever again.
My childhood, clutches me now, Im 27
And I wont let go of the memory
The space, the geography, the grass
The dew, the pond, winter frozen
Cracking the ice with a cricket stump
And the grass and the sandpit and being alone
And rotting apple trees and bamboo canes
All in line
Pretty like soliders
Marching stationary to a silent battle drum
Ive never been a fighter myself
Although my hand feel heavy right now
The things I remember, goldfish, and Montana
And Idaho, and a pale faced man with a thick
Moustache, and places I never see
I used to count cars
And vans and trucks and bikes and girls
30 years before I was born
A girl was killed outside the very same house
Although I admit, i dont know if she slept
In my room.
I feel drawn to bodies of water
Like I do to the night, when its quiet
And the unearthly hum of the unseen
Rumbles in the foreground of my mind
I seek desolation in some sense, I think
Something in the empty space
Finds an answer deep inside of me
I keep writing the same poem
About this world, about this girl
I met last weekend at this bar
Her fingers were not markedly elongated
And her accent was one I could place
Somewhere round these ways
Her hair wasnt made of silver
I dont understand
I dont understand
I dont understand
__________________
"Do not tell lies, and do not do what you hate,
for all things are plain in the sight of Heaven. For nothing
hidden will not become manifest, and nothing covered will remain
without being uncovered."
The Gospel of Thomas
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