Ain’t it just like the dead to conquer your head With all the things that could’ve been said? Society hangs its hate by human thread Then on a plate they serve your head Though we bear the weight of worlds they dread We can only stare as fate unfurls in red I did it though because you cried popeyed I nearly died because they deified their side I haven’t forgot what the dream seemed to hide Your intoxicated copper gobbles trout and sprouts As Buddhists meditate on the devout route And politicians pout their doubting snouts Spouting bullshit until their lungs give out As huddled masses shout about a man of clout Who can stand to flout his pout without a doubt I did it because your hands of time were my guide And because of the tried trance they applied Not because of the way that yesterday died Your hero (in your dreams) consumes forbidden fruit And returns to the womb with his orphaned flute Soliloquising that each angelic accident is absolute As tears stream down her face to his embryonic suit Where the air is polluted by your new destitute boots But who can refute that materialistic minds prostitute? I did it though because the ride was wild I only lied when I was beguiled as a child I still can’t forget the way you smiled I saved some for me but you took the rest Whatever God’s doing can only be guessed So pay no heed to one that’s blessed With a crest etched across his breast For it’s he that leads this lonely quest But it’s he that’s bequest to those oppressed I did it though because my hands were tied I nearly died to let our dreams collide I can’t seem to forget the way they lied My essay on yesterday reviled, I was exiled Society… who has the guile to attend that trial? I’d only be thinking about you all the while I did it though because the ride was wild I only cried when my dream was defiled I can’t seem to forget the way that you smiled I did it though because you lied popeyed I cried too because my bride deified the bribe I haven’t forgot what the dream seemed to hide I was embarrassed, embarrassed, embarrassed I ain't saying a--thing

Well, God forbid my heart is hid/his/hit & I'll be yours if you'll be mine. Angel made of acid I was just a kid [cept’ where the sun don’t shine]. Mad/bad breathless beauty shot time into rhyme. In deathless duty the serpent stars entwined. Yesterday I was falling but today all I do is climb. Yet singing these songs never earnt a dime. If you grow up restless, the best breakfast is wine. The law is thine while the doors align in the Sublime. Lust at first sight Becomes Love By the end of the night. Restless, I tested how far I could go: the real foe isn’t what you don’t know. I smoked more, opened a big door & added more flow like Rimbaud. Your four kaleidoscope eyes reflect the spectre of the circus skies. Beyond the ravines of what has been lies a future we’ve yet to realise. My day is a dream I don’t want to wake from as our lips spar. It’s as if you’re almost in me yet your tongue doesn’t leave a scar. I’d crawl across your soul’s river covered in Old Holborn tar. Yeah, it chars my heart to be apart so let’s say bonjour, not au revoir. Lust at first sight Becomes Love By the end of the night. The state-funded rain of the over-soul makes me whole & I’m on God’s parole. I’m emboldened at a golden anniversary; conversely becoming 50’s my only goal. With your Neptune ease & my bended knees & heck geez who called the police?! The necklace daydreams created & your lips laid grace to the place of release. In a spectacle saved for the holy beginning & final wreck you kissed my neck. You beckoned in a dozen dying dreams & we shared ten thousand seconds of sex. My recall stalls before last fall when I saw you: is this it, mon amour? Watching falling raindrops pour, I never knew love could be a war. Lust at first sight Becomes Love By the end of the night.

Gunshots the force of a hundred horses divorce reality from art. Departed dreams and Neptune’s screams break the moon’s heart. God will be sole witness to the end, just as God was to the start. To me your touch was more sacred than fudge and I was spellbound. It didn’t take as much as a nudge to clown my sanity upside down. Now profound hunger hounds me and ecstasy is a vision of your sound. You are my first love, because you are you. This is the worst love that I ever knew. I hope that not all love is fast love, true. So I hope that this’ll be my last love, too. I feel this ecstasy blast above my mouth. The real thirst is always further south. You’re going to make me change How could an angel be so strange?

I smoked your moon-kissed lips and déjà vu soon drew a purple circus round the clown of purpose like the all-dye hook of a black hole.  You woke me before chords of the forest soared into the town of sound where it is true that you can sue whomever shook your shackled soul.  After karma’s barter in the womb halved the laughter of Gaea, I wept in contempt of court and dreamt I was bought like a crook on parole.  I stayed in their cellar, a maid and a beggar, with only one stellar/Stella sweater and a cooking book that I’m afraid to tell ya I took or stole.  But I’ve got some simple words you never hear.  A man is lucky if they ever near his ears. If I were you, then I would be you. But since I am me, I am me. That’s why we’re two and we’re free to be free.  Mary mixes the karma potion, her schizophrenia still in motion, and Christ waltzes on water, causing quite the commotion in the sea of Galilee.  I tasted his devotion with hasty emotion; it was sorta artful and heartful, not far from water where the leveed sea breaks through into the city.  I met her in a daydream; why get disturbed anyway? At the end of the day it seems you go back all the way in the reset of the nitty gitty.  We rode a pony thru the desert and arrived at the brook - the ceremony took ten terse minutes I never forsook; I’d still love you infinitely less pretty.  But I’ve got some simple words you never hear  A man is lucky if they ever near his ears. If I were you, then I would be you. But since I am me, I am me. That’s why we’re two and we’re free to be free.  I suppose where I once scorned, I could now offer a hand.  Every rose bears a thorn, but I was reborn a stronger man.  If only you had stayed, I’d have sworn my life on our plan. 

We were sitting desolate and confused I was your friend and you were my muse We were young and easily amused You offered me a cigarette but I refused We talked so long even the yellow nightingales hit the sack I was thrilled to learn that you were a fellow pyromaniac I told you about the mind of reality that I kind of seemed to lack If my soul was blind, yours was a dream or a Jonestown track Like a brave coward I expected my defeat But maybe I wasn't looking to compete I knew that the past couldn't ever repeat Yet I needed something to feel complete You introduced me to her for the first time On the bridge that links North and South I immediately thought that she was sublime She immediately wanted to meet my mouth... And so I couldn't help thinking of her as our lips met- What exactly she was doing at this point; Yet I felt something in my jeans and it wasn't regret- After all she was just rolling a joint. Together we watched the moon wake the stars in the sky. I fell so far into the moment I soon forgot that I was shy. “I don’t need you and you don’t need me,” you accidentally lied. “I guess that makes us both almost free,” I sentimentally replied. In my eyes your spirit was swinging as a happening jazz band. The adder was your tight, the laddered night yet unmanned. The truth was as beautiful as love yet solipsistic as the sand. I held our stalemate in my hands, then you exploded wonderland. The drives outlining my love for you will forever rest in peace online. You’re just like everyone I ever knew, so animated and ‘not mine’. Though much time is past, cheers for buying me Scottish wine. I'm not sure that you like rhyme, but here lies my heart in every line. She comes back to me one morning, And the years fall down our cheeks. She shows me what it means to love And no one needs to speak... The man and woman are the mystery, Yet my night is light as day at last. I may kneel before your god of war, But I won’t thank him for the past.

A future lover walked up to me in the bar. She winked and said, “I know who you are!” I replied, “Chances are I’m not what you think. But would you like a memory in which we drink?” I live inside her now but I don’t get homesick. It’s too late I know but in circles we go so quick. I simply can’t dance, mister, but I’ll chance the night. Your sister can’t buy a future, but your kitten might. Girl, you don’t need alcohol to calm each qualm. But maybe our world is a greedy computer farm. I live inside her now but I don’t get homesick. It’s too late I know but in circles we go so quick. I loved you but you’re indifferent to me now. I’d change your mind, but I don’t know how. We discussed our star-signs on the school bus. Now I can look up how you are without extra fuss. I live inside you but I don’t get homesick. It’s too late but I know in circles we go so quick. I live inside you both but I don’t get homesick. It’s too late I know but in circles we go so quick.

Respite from the blue moon; The night comes too soon. The bright young pretty stoners sing to their own gritty tune. Escape the caped ape; Gape at the shape of rape. God tapes human mistakes; she wakes to ache; you wake to ruin. Suicide of dried pride: I hide inside the guide. The flower is our power: you cried, I died, we tied. Salvation ain't plenty But damnation ain't empty Sensation-free at twenty-seven! Hefty temptation of trendy heaven! You… what’s your story? Think about it. Forgetting is what friends tend to do; I bet I’ll sing at the sunset end for you. The better the wetter when it’s three fools and two points of view. A lonely clown in discount drag Learns to count then burns a flag. Now the only madman in town crowns the sound where he drowned in blue. Real lust is trust: you’re bust if you don’t know it. Hear the poet in the thrust of the gust just below it. Truth can be self-defeating And youth can be so fleeting. The tooth of Ruth Repeats its eating You… what’s your story? Think about it.

I know you’re doing well, but I wish I could say the same for myself. Sometimes this life is hell, cloaked by another name just for stealth. Tomorrow’s a word I seldom use, but I don’t like to live in the past. Some musicians use silence as a muse, but I get bored of it too fast. I saw an angel carved in snow yesterday, as cunningly as if it were clay. I don’t particularly want to go anyway, so you give me a reason to stay. I haven’t given up my search for meaning; I’ve just grown a little slack. So meet me by the church about half an hour before the skies turn black. I was born in squalor out of love and I’ll die in it unless God intervenes. I wonder if there’s a heaven above or if the closest place is New Orleans. I guess all I can ever do is be me, but I like pretending to be the Queen. I speak about my own majesty, after a seemingly obscene dose of caffeine. I’m good at acting as if everything’s alright, but I’m not if you want to know. Sometimes all you can do is get through the night, but time passes so slow. You’re a flirtation with my salvation and maybe deliverance is what I lack. So meet me by the church about half an hour before the skies turn black.

Like acne on your nose, love slowly grows. Your mind refines ideals but ain’t love. Love’s ingredients are sent & not chose. A parrot-ox smothers you with its bluff. But your secret suffering soon will pass. You’ll find another lover who’s truer. Together you’ll gaze at the moon on grass. That eternal love: I never knew her. I did not glimpse forever with my eyes. I did not swim thru leathered storms for lust. Love is lust is love between thighs & sighs. Our God’s judgement is just: from dust to dust. Feelings are real so I don’t regret. In love we met & in love we forget.

As long as I hear the song of your heartbeat And even as tomorrow evening completes The sorrow that yesterday just can't defeat, Three is okay too but you and me is a treat. I’d hobble on crutches down Jealousy Street again To be touched by the heat of love in a repeat of 2010. If my groove depletes like my Naked Smoothie drink, You were cheated by a sacred dream I think I think... I ain’t as clever as the saint but you're equally as dense And hence the forever of now never quite felt so immense. O, how your control over my soul stopped making sense! But I couldn't be fucked holy sitting on a shitting ivory fence. I know that you requited my real feel, if only in past tense... Yet when nonsense met pretence, they shared two cents. I remember the beauty of earthly heaven and its infinite stink... As I fatten, you thin -- I'll drink to that and think of you in ink! Which hidden dove forbid us from the room up above? Was our youth misspent in the unrented truth of love? The ancients tested the patience of our dove again, As the stars heated the saddest night from far above. Your glove tight on mine was the maddest treat then, Back when you excited my blackest light with love. I married a spicy Bombay sandwich at Camden's Coffee Café, And the gun of language carried me to the one who gave me a jay. I regret how the forgetful future turns into yearning for today, But sex is like the ego and I know it now and that’s why I play. Today always burns the poet, yet the good God never led me astray… I hope God straightens Satan anyway until they both earn their grey! The past goes so fast that the future stays within lasting ink. If you are blue, today is too, so renew your think with a blink. I used to think I was some kind of crucifix until you fixed me a drink. You confused me with your winking mind but then I felt nothing blink. I was something like an angel to you because you were nothing like me. I could have loved you forever and yet you would never have set me free.

With the undead diary of your times at the Priory unread by another, With an imperfect lover in one hole and your soul stashed in the other, With your yeast and mini feasts and the dreams I never seemed to uncover With our deceased mothers released into a domain we’ve yet to discover… With your accidental rude and secret rain and tasty vegetable curries, With Time as a tailor or grumpy sailor or a mint made of McFlurry, With your impossible Presidential hope which you abandoned in a hurry, With your random multitude of moods and professional baking worries... Isabel, you put a spell on my heart below. Well, I felt you at the start, right at ‘hello’. Isabel, I hope you will be my friend until we die. I fell for you again at the end when we said ‘goodbye’. Isabel, you put a spell on my art below. I fell for you again when we parted, you know. Well, Isabel, I hope you will be my friend until we too die. If there’s no hell below us, is there laughter up in the blue sky? Though I know how much Nothing kicks now as Everything quickly plateaus, You forgave the way I stayed in yesterday so I could touch the Grave of Shadows; You shaved my hair there, where I said a prayer for the dead in mad clothes, And you gave me a blue rose to save me from a new dose of sad lows… But without God as a witness, and “it wasn’t me” & “it’s not your fault”, I cried for the Rainbow’s End as you penned a war against what I exalt; It’s almost as if you forgot that clothes are but the ghost of society’s default, As our hearts’ seams wake to make love to the dreams which slowly halt. I saw a zoo full of naked horseshoes. I saw a statue (it's too sacred - I snoozed). I wanted absolutely anything but the blues. I saw an inflated cow who mooed the news. I saw girls and boys and women and men. I saw an old world become young again. I saw a human bomb count back from ten. Well, Isabel, I felt you drum upon my dream back then.

Ain’t it just our shoddy luck to be stuck in one crappy body when we could be oddly happy in another?! If you discover the sleazy city of spirits in the centre of the world, please promise me you won’t tell Big Brother. Every kiss in that abyss is elephant-bliss and it’s there one uncovers God is the son of Satan’s part-time lover. The Earth’s core is at war with itself, and they say God started it by tampering with the farts of your mother. Hundreds of heads invaded my heart on Superbowl Sunday. I traded belief in a dead deity for reefer and a soul on Monday. If either of us should leave, the other would be crazy to stay. I worked this hard when I was young so I could be this lazy one day. Whatever the present comprises, it’s an atom of forever. For twice the price of Paradise, you can fly like the weather. The government bought a law against draw, but we scored hench fries and French highs from Kevin’s Pies. Together we fought a war against sleep with the breathless parakeet Queen and her seventeen butterflies. I thought I saw the meaning of death scrawled obscenely small on the wall between Heaven’s gleaming eyes. Isabel smelt swell as a rebel then, and I fell under her spell again as plasticine thunder flowered at sunrise. Mona Lisa weeps for freedom as her heart sleeps frozen in painted slime. See the guards feed Mona Lisa pizza drenched in prose and saintly lime. Nothing does everything at once because everything’s the opposite of time. Your destiny awaits you à la Seine, where the bells of liberty chime. Another long day defeated; another song half-completed. For twice the price of Paradise, the past can be repeated. Now reddened rain leaps onto dead-end streets, and a clockwork centaur in paradoxical sleep dreams of dinosaurs. Female mail men eat nuclear snails and secrete microbe priests who feast on the bacterial spores of giant Labradors. When he burns his daughter or returns from the water, Christ shall be uncrucified and there will be no more wars. I had my sordid afternoon many moons away from today, and soon as now somehow I trust you must too have yours. “The only moment worth having,” your friend sensuously breathes, “is one that you can readily repeat.” Expect the head of your affection to meet a perfect defeat soon as she encloses your love in her moon-angel-feet. Downstairs on the streets, an orphan soldier swears that God above is older than forever yet even more obsolete. You never supposed you’d sever your grip on the past, yet at last the present feels pleasantly complete. Nothing is only an illusory goal, and so is the semblance of control. But the rose-tinted lover that led you to bed still has a mole. And the prose of the dead mother in your head still has a soul. And a whole shoal of tadpoles still stroll round your fishbowl. For twice the price of Paradise, you can fly like the fucking weather. For twice the price of Paradise, you can be stuck here forever. The laughing cow teaches the art of salvation to the heart of each nation with her drum now. The laughing cow topples your golden house of crumbs like a needle to the tongue now. The laughing cow tells the story of how purgatory freed her, yet she longs for the numb now. One hand needs hers, nothing eats her, and her soul speedily leaps up to the sun now. Insanity is the profanity of the hidden soul I could not hide. My patient suicide is inscribed upon my limping stride. Because I forgot that you lied, the angles of your angels were my guide. Because my future seemed shot, my egoic dreams slowly rotted and died. For twice the price of Paradise, you can do pretty much whatever. If you don’t know why it’s “do or die”, you should try getting leathered. For twice the price of Paradise, the past can live forever. If you don’t know why it’s “do or die”, try “now or never”.

My soul is a limerent scroll o’song smitten by your sex’s glue. The rainbow froze over long ago but I’ll always fit in next to you. I know The future can seem like a hollow dream after scream or two. But let the totality of Experience’s everything heal you from the blue. The holier the ghost the closer we die to the surprise, And Kleopatra is the host of everything in the ear of both my eyes. The offspring of robins wear God-cameras pinned to minute wings. They carry about the twin wind breath of mirror-moons that sing. The drunks wake up society while punks fake notoriety onstage. Watch monks nail Christ’s memoirs to the wailing creator’s cage. But the holier the ghost the closer we die to the surprise, And Kleopatra is the gross of everything in the ear of both my eyes.

People often come up to me on the street & say ‘hey, Walking Doctor Tonnan, how do you sing so sweet?’ I tell them it’s a combination of mouth movements, knowing you’re the messiah, Adderall and pretending you’re Scooby Doo singing at Marge Simpson’s wedding to Scooby Doo who is running away from the mafia because the mafia is after him because Scooby Doo is from the Mafia but Tony Soprano’s sister had it in for him though he secretly loves her and Marge Simpson has a cat and Scooby Doo doesn’t like cats unless they’re from the mafia and so you’re like Scooby Doo pretending to be Gatsby from the Great Gatsby pretending to sing to Marge Simpson but actually singing to Tony Soprano’s sister. And that's how you sing.

I wept out of the darkness You fell into the light I remember the old bars And how we used to fag/fight I wept out for those I had lost I had to fight to be me, some I suppose that is the cost Of working for your freedom I wept out for those I had lost I had to fight to be me, some I suppose that is the cost Of outliving your own freedom [There won't be an end to God But the wars, they will end You're not sorry for being odd I'm just sorry you pretend] Sometimes I wake up had Sometimes I wake up mad I can see good from bad I know what made us sad The world has gone wrong The wrong people are in charge I can no longer celebrate their song Though I can't walk far, my mind can march I've been tortured by the voices Your darkness fell into the light I remember love without choices And none of this old new plight I wept out for the warred You wept out for the tearless My tired eyes were assured I wasn't exactly fearless I wept out of the darkness You fell into the light I remember the old park And how we used to fight

This is a requiem for rain. I live in a menagerie of pain. The insane are sleeping or at least in vain they’re trying. All the names are seeping through the blue rain’s crying. Voices explain electrifying choices that send my frying brain flying. Midnight too shall soon weep for moonlight's eyes aren't drying. The most unforgiving ghosts give the living reason for dying. Thanks for peacekeeping but it’s true I knew that you were lying. You wanted to get lyrically necked. I wanted to get metaphysically wrecked. You wanted to be politically correct. Our connection was mystically direct. You were literally almost perfect. What exactly did you expect to get resurrected? My factual statue of feeling got critically erected. [Hahah! Was that supposed to be funny?? Hahah! Was that supposed to be funny?? Hahah!] I was the lame with brain damage that you were not above. If you were the bandage then you were also the shove I was the sandwich which you held through your glove. You spoke an enchanted language that planted hot love. You took your advantage for granted so I shot at the dove. We could have requited forever and never quite got enough But I believe in leather, and you see right through my bluff. You were together and witty and almost as clever as love. Forever never was as pretty as when you rescued the dove. This is a requiem for rain. I live in a menagerie of pain.

When fate brandishes the blues I'll be here, whatever the news As years and tears all drift by I'll appear to dry your eye When no one hears what you say I'll be your ear, till break of day Even when our paths don't cross Have no fear, you are my boss When we sail to an unknown realm I'll sit next to you at the helm When feet fail and we've grown old I'll make you warm if you feel cold When female love is your lone need I'll bow out, with grace and speed Even when our stars don’t shine I’ll share yours if you’ll share mine When it was new, we fell and flew But when it grew, I finally knew When we are two, I want to be one I have no clue, I forget our sum When we are true, I'm hypnotized All I want is be at your side Even when our paths don't cross Have no fear, you are my boss

As Princess gets breathless with her next of kin, Clouds wonder aloud about what Death’s Thunder means for the scene. Nearby Now, a proud Crowd dressed in deerskin loudly protest the arrest of the tested vaccine of the Queen’s Green. Watch the Witches itch to pause the heathen Heaven, causing President 211 to hit her mythical button. This switches the age of consent to 67, which fills each bitching glutton with lyrical mutton. See the Government tame Tomorrow’s Gaming Vultures, training Entertainers to attain the slapstick of the only tantric Art left. If you follow the chart that erodes the codes of Cultures, don’t be afraid to be saved then enslaved by the tricks of Love & Theft. Spy the wise Wizard board a lawless Shipwreck up above, climbing the skies to meet his friend the Baffled Dog. God can’t afford to be bored by the trippy Heck of Love, and so this Earth’s Universe is rebirthed by a snog. It's well understood Love can be but a falsehood yet it's necessary to survive. And I would be your monsieur, but my French is slowly rotting alive. Yes, I could be your chauffeur, but I’m so hench that I cannot drive. I should be your connoisseur, but what we were is a blur I cannot revive.

The subtler the tyranny, the deeper each one of us falls. The more pitiful the irony, the louder people weep at city walls. Gazing at me oddly like a God, she guillotined the rest. In heaven’s estimation, their destination is best left a guess. Yes, I robbed lust of its fortune, manically writing this song. And tonight merciful mountains shine over this sorry ‘so long’. When I was young, I couldn't wait to fall in love, then you walked through the door. When I grew older, the war grew colder, but I wasn't any bolder than before. Three years ago, I said it would be last time, so I forgot it like the last rhyme.

You're here but the fear of society's spears made you forget to remember your eyes And you're tied to your tongue and your thighs grow so numb when you're done with becoming a lie Believe it, conceive it, we've been there, we grieve it, then we heave on another disguise The world promises pearls but that never unfurls and girl that ain't no surprise When you were small and in thrall of it all the walls didn't seem so tall But now that you've grown it's hard to disown the thoughts that they taught you in school But if you give up trying, you're already dying, though your hour of flowers may not fall And if you give up your purpose and abandon this circus your birth was worth nothing at all

Some preachers teach the equality of all creatures except for that of educated human fools. The fate for which I myself reach is the same as the late great creator who birthed my molecules. Tomorrow’s earth may yet be a cool age, fuelled by all animals’ admission to animal schools. Remember that McDonald worked for all of us (and Hugh Grant). And if the McDonald’s Animal School is harmed, activists will chant. Karma won’t chicken if dharma sickens (which I know it shan’t). I let my weightless soul do what my body can’t. I may be even more schizophrenic than your aunt. My greatest goals involve Love and holy plant. Try not to waste away your days at an abstract factory. The death of the future may not be all that satisfactory. The funny moneyed spotty hottie waxes lyrical about Rockland’s brand-new contraband. She says her girlfriend’s sunny hair compares to twenty grand or many grains of sand. She tells him that man is just a girl, and then Rockland grabs you both by the hands. He murmurs that he is too, and that the world is no greener where he stands. The sunlight-gun is mounting science and God wants back his myth. Try to remember who you came from and who you want to leave with. Xinx and I exist in newly shrewd shoes like a nude kangaroo glued to a hedonist. The roaring wind soars like moonfish dogtrotting through Love’s unforgotten mist. You don’t really wish for an invitation, for the bliss of salvation is always this. You and I know creation is a maze, and that it’s yours and hers and his to kiss. The tiny God mounts his conscience, and he doesn’t know what to expect. I guess that since God never had a side, it’s nigh impossible to defect.

Mother of God, I shall be demonstrating your lover’s mandate by the other heaven’s gate. Eternal return (brother!): it’s worth nothing if it’s still Earth, so fate will just have to wait. When I’ve burned all my tomorrows, at least there’ll be no sorrow to lacerate the blank slate. Lord, forgive me if you can afford to: all the rest send you their best, from New York to Belfast. Maybe we’re all dying and trying to live with past moments that just can’t be surpassed. Yet I’ll be happy as hell when I forget I’m dead and the sun sets and all’s well at last. It’s just sometimes my heart misses all the ones that ever sought to reach me. I start to climb up their kisses up to the sum of what they fought to teach me. The theme-park-maze you gotta fight through to make bread is dark as night. But someday maybe, who can say baby, I’ll gaze back from the heights and pray to tell God, “I’m dead but alright.”

God Knows Your Burden Destiny is never certain  Til the close of the curtain.  At points we all are hurting  With fate's gates still flirting  So I’m not just blurting whatever comes into my head.  But with that said…  A boy with big hair walks to me on Voltaire street  Glares at me, says he wants drugs but doesn't know where  I say yeah, man, you’re in for a treat, I swear  You can eat & glug drugs by the mug over there.  Buyer beware, coffee makes you care.  That debonair air says you’ll fit in bare.  Consume it on a chair & don’t get it in your hair.  Yeah, you’re welcome.  Might as well sell some.  Some people: God help them.  If you build it, they will come.  I read I assaulted a police officer thrice.  BS: I have many a vice but he insulted me twice.  If the forces aren’t nice, of course we pay the price.  There’s only so much ice cream cake left & it seems we all want a slice.  We both got betrayed & arrested, Jesus and I.  No other parallels are to be drawn except for the circumstances of our birth.  It’s hard to play guitar well- most people can’t do most hard things: that’s no lie.  Get merry after a sherry & ask Katy Perry if she can sing via telepathy [you won’t get a reply]  Flashback to the tarmac: broke more than my back.  But I’m on track to get back what I now lack.  I ain’t that slack, my cards aren’t whack -  Yet the impact’s a fact I can’t black out.  But don’t let the realm overwhelm you, take it by the helm, make your own route.  Brain damage is something I can manage and marriage I can live without.  The rain ravaged me like I was disparaging justice’s carriage with doubt.  Proceedings got savage speedily so I kept all I could scavenge for the drought.  Forget the dipshits: the creator exists.  Religion persists to twist the plot (which is kind of hot)  So don’t take a shot at the deity who prays for thee…  God is all some people have got.  I don’t ramble or gamble, I shamble with the wind.  I’d like to see that rabbit again, man could he grin.  I’ve had it with the habit but I still want some magic.  The demons that inhabit me are undramatically static.  The tragic song is so long that any doctor would fall asleep  The thought of being caught up in it makes me want to weep.  I tried to find unity amidst the commotion.  So I sat deserted in church, devoid of emotion  I ran towards him, I ran fast in slow motion  I was so late for work they gave me a promotion  I was born again in the heart of the lion’s den.  I shouted about Lucifer, some people howled amen.  If I was Zen with the pen, I’d have written that at ten.  But I loved God back then: all the time, don’t ask me when.  I met a young girl who told me to take things slow.  I met an old man who said go fast or I won’t grow.  I saw you breaking through to a world I don’t know.  That thought came later, all I felt at the time was low.  But Love is perfect & love is pure: I couldn’t ask for more.  You shook me to the core, you ended my war.  Like all illusions the confusion came to a conclusion.

“Will you always love free?” the FatCat sighs. “For as long as I am me,” the Diplomat lies. His lit cigar is perched between her plump lips. But her eyes trump Evolution’s ancient script. “To being free,” the FatCat forcefully cries, unscrewing a bottle of red wine and chugging down half of it quick. “To being me,” the Diplomat replies, wondering why her lover’s breath smells of another’s laughter and shit. Now the FatCat and Diplomat jump asleep and dream they’re dreaming a nightmare no real God would allow. The gore of their innermost wars are no closer to omens of paradise than the pair’s premature vow. Now The Lollipop Lady distributes ice cream to her friends. She knows she’ll be repaid with salvation in the end. She exclusively speaks monosyllabic words such as ‘mend’. The Lollipop Lady is single and on that you can always depend. Inside the kitchen, the Chef swears in fluent French and it's easy to understand his preferred slurred phrase. The chef relishes isolated conditions and the way he seasons dead birds with curd is still absurd these days. Yes, God will be sole witness to the end like God was to the start, as Neptune's screams break the moon’s heart. Let epiphanies the force of a hundred horses divorce Art from such omens of paradise that the government farts. A broody guest has a proposition the manager won’t resist. The hot concierge knows that the manager don’t exist. “Where is the manager of this hotel?” asks the broody guest. “He’s in hell,” says the hot concierge, looking her metrosexual best. Inside the Great Hall, Brian The Actor finishes his cleaning shift and smiles a beguiling alcoholic grin. Brian’s manager spread a rumour that he slept with Britney Spears to catalyse a career that’s yet to begin. Now the Owner patronizes his home-grown mosquito factory and contemplates other machines of spiritual slaughter. Feel the heat of a virgin eternity & see my Father become me as these omens of paradise emerge like wine out of water. People often come up to me on the street & say, “Hey, how does Walking Doctor Tonnan sing so sweet?” I tell them it’s because he sings even when he speaks and he was born on February 13th, the same day and month that Jimi Hendrix entered this world. 13 is Walking Doctor Tonnan’s lucky number. 13 is also my friend Madeleine’s lucky number, because she’s kissed that many boys. Because I am straight, I’ve only kissed three, but one of the boys I’ve kissed is Jacob Epstein. I live with a tall bearded Scottish man who is also named Jacob. He knocked on my door yesterday and asked me if I could play guitar quieter. I agreed and asked if he liked my music. You’re a fucking virtuoso, he said without a hint of sarcasm in his voice. I replied that my music sounds especially good when you haven’t heard any other music for a while. Of course it does, he replied, you’re a fucking virtuoso. When he left I looked up the definition of ‘virtuoso’. I didn’t think I was a virtuoso, but I can play guitar better than most people. I recounted this anecdote to my Aunt and she said that I should be smart enough to determine whether Jacob was joking or not. Of course I am, I replied, I’m a fucking virtuoso. Without any further shenanigans, here is the real Walking Doctor Tonnan singing a coquettish tune named after his favourite snack, Oreos, in his exclusive private home studio which doubles as a bathroom.

I'm immortal as a skunk. I'm as coital as a punk. No limerence is monk. I can only forgive cunt. You're demeaning as hell. I like being treated like dirt. No point in wishing you well. You always were the flirt. I'm partially depressed. I have no wealth, nor much to sell. I'm quite self-obsessed. This is because I am my self. Most the time I forget I have a soul-mate or Alzheimer’s. I'm not going to bet, for the Bowl will be won by the 49ers. I've smoked so much dopamine that I prefer reality. I have decided I am not going to University because I like the library. Once a cat came to my house. I couldn't tell if it was a cat who had ate a rat or a pregnant female cat. I got ostracised at school because I am so bad at handwriting. I don't think this counts as anti-male propaganda, but once I hit myself twice. Every time I decide I’m not in love with a woman, they send me back to insane asylum. I is very famous. I is almost everywhere. I is in many books, not many of which I has read him or her self. Sometimes I'm told I need to have a shower. I has a shower, but I don't tell you that you need to read the dictionary. I know your money but neither am I. It's work trying not to work after being an animal servant or elephant storyteller with no short term memory and not many good memories for Lindsay Lohan, my second celebrity crush. But I'm not trying to shirk work. I want to work as a waiter on vegetable to cook. I am very good at slicing them with my hands. I like vegetable oil pesto chilli soy sauce nan onions mushroom all in one pan. If I were to complete this sentence, not only would you get sued and but I would be offered a scone by a frog named Toto in fort Rotterdam. I think sex is the killer. I don't think about race. I think men should have hair less than shoulder length and women hair longer than shoulder length. So both genders are created equal. Uh... but women are stupid in some areas. And men are imbeciles. And men? Well, men are imbeciles. Or animal servants. Or pizza deliverers. Or communists. I’m not a man… I’m… a…. communist without any money. But both genders were created equal. Welcome to the seas, the void of the assassination Resign the plea for all mortal salvation The spleen of the city unfurls for your consideration She worked hard but only I am in love with you She love hacked my own dreams, certain, don’t touch it. The court manager? Ah, we played the game: everyone lost him. A laugh and a laugh! You’re a professional cunt. The boy’s name? He took his name too far. One armed slavery; man, only joking. Lord, please forgive me, she gave me Hermeos! (She’s touching Blue’s penis pretty soon) Eh? Just messing with you! Cheeks and leaks, I don’t want to believe She’s smitten home dear friend, forget about it - you’re going to die a thigh named Proper. Don’t let’s ruin the game up, here’s hoping! Please don’t touch holy, the serpent’s the devil Bore, please don’t die! She needs your majesty, she needs your professional help Infinity! Always change your name, you retard Climb out the window, you’ll only fall to the ground. She’s sneaking you the felony You’re secret, she’s the felony

God forgave wars as atomless senses combined. Eden itself will be toast if we don’t obey its tethers. Her form perspires like the weather of my mind. In tomorrow’s tumult your soles tread on forevers. Beaches burn, leeches to bleach, a cyclical repeat. But conquests complete, I convalesce at her feet. Saved by her sacred touch, naked we were a geek. She blossomed like two-lips and I ate it on the loo. Enslaved by double Dutch, hatred also has mystique. I’ll give you true love: I used to live for torture too. Past the dance of chance’s maker, I cast my shadow. The truth is that hate prevails where love is shallow. Somehow it feels like it happened to another again. She mutters and I stutter like the advent of consent. Why beat about the bush? She pushed me at ten to five. I remember the deep-love of my first & last ascent. Armies of adolescents jump into a secret forest. & bands of ink pelicans tell fables on your wrist. Inside the ride resides a bride who claims to be famous. She dances to the Temptations so aimless and shameless. Your eyes are tied to the bribe, but you remain blameless. During the snide depths of ecstasy, she'll become nameless. Past the rain dance of the maker, demons blast their scores. But you've got to love her in your own way for she is yours.   I've won that which hasn't stayed; I've lost what I haven't given away. I prefer milkshakes to jewels anyway... but Eden's grace reigns true as cliché. Today the boss is dressed in a suit of grey, Marvin Gaye glasses & a Bombay beret. I hear him say in the hallway at the buffet we too must stay for the cabaret. But a concluding sense of circularity is pure at the conception of his remarks. & backwards we dart into the mirror's art, heralded by a dog's heaven-sent barks.

It don't take a drunkard to be alive But every one of your laughs is true to me. These lines are undiplomatically contrived For beauty is best perceived truthfully. I arrived alive in the living trial And I can't remember before. After a while, I learnt to smile And I was drafted into the war. I’ve been too sad to even pose And I've been too happy to think. I've been too mad to wear clothes And I've been too crappy to drink. My happy tears are a purgatory But my story isn't all that odd. Allah's essence isn't an allegory Nor will I ever see or know God. I danced into the diphtheria of doze As soon as my eyes were closed. I woke up, thought of you and rose. I smoked and wrote some prose. A cigarette can make you feel faint But the tricks of rhyme can paint it well. It's 6 A.M. and I'm empty of what I ain't So I cling onto the cloak of your smell. Chesterfield, milkshakes, omelettes: The moment you get you get it you're indebted. & so we let the sun set over our regrets In a kiss the cinnamon moon crimson sweated. My happy tears don’t bore me And my story isn't all that odd. Allah's essence isn't an allegory Nor will you ever see or know God. A tapestry of colours rode my livid eyes & eroded the dark in bitterly cool duty. Some things are too sad to analyse, But what a tool we can be to the fool of beauty. Need you now, need you then, don't ask me when: I've loved you since I was ten. In too-too visions of desire spent, you came & went: Cops on your trail, fingernails pale as a pedant. My future was a divorcee I'll never meet. My past was an angel dressed in leather. She was as sweet to me as sweet can be. But now it's probably better to forget her forever. My happy tears don’t bore me And my story isn't all that odd. Allah's essence isn't an allegory Nor will I ever see or know God.