Cold

Hey there is too much excitement here, I was just delivered my new refrigerator

They old one died and smelt, I had to say 'see you later' 

Dead as a maggot it could not delay a minute to fuck up my life.

I felt like a new dick in a whorehouse and keep opening the door to watch the light go on

Just like the contents are displayed when opening girl's legs

But no offence meant towards refrigerators or girls who have a cold box.

 

The instructions were to turn it on after half an hour but I keep unwrapping

So much cling wrap I wonder if an asian is in there or maybe an indian

No offence meant but who in hell actually built this.

 

Was it a god or was it a dog that wandered down their alley ending as chop suey

And they are waving their arms hoping to capture me and indulge in some ecstacy

Or are they hopeless fish floundering out of their depth evoking my intimacy.

 

What is old is now new and memories cloud my past gathering their storm to unleash me

From the depths of honesty and the illusion of falsities I struggle like a sperm

For it is a lonely corridor I traverse to recognise my destiny.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Just a Little Shorter than a Party

I just met a guy who was small

Shorter than me but just as tall

His attitude was cool

And his car he wielded as a weapon.

Such a subtle attack being disabled

He was challenged by height

So I felt tapped my pool of niceness

To avail to him of my awareness of shortness

But I left him and I was wondering

How much pleasantry he had and where he had been

Being so short of stature I could not see his face

I am too tall and reached to see his place 

Not much of anything as all was deleted

Giving me opportunity to feel my mission was completed.

Ticket Home

I've been gone and now I'm back

Was so hard to book a ticket

I had the need but I ended up

Negotiating a thicket.

 

My flight was delayed even though I had paid

To no avail someone else circled my wallet

But it was full of receipts but no money

I had paid it forward without a memory of what I thought was funny.

Winging my way towards Tibet and a mountain

Clothed in circling clouds I was not allowed to dissent

My payment had been refused

So I descended from my mount to study my account.

As expected I was in debit to another's credit

The Dali lama would not accept my cash

Unless I paid with Peruvian Mountain Hash

So I succumbed.

End of Life

I understand suicide now, i think

I'd like to end this now

But i am not convinced that is the answer

To be buried struggling not to even be able to dig my own grave

In death as in birth i am trapped in a limbo between heaven and hell

There is no where else to go, not either here nor there

Peace in my tomb where no one can probe me.

Memories are cuddly but tainted with fear

Whilst machines find me wanting to lubricate their gears

I'm a ghost in the regime of pacifiers and accountants

Calling me to order above all there must be God.