Got a birthday card at Christmas. It made me think of Jesus Christ. It said, "I love you" in small letters. I simply had to read it twice. . Wood smoke curled from blackened chimneys.
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Walking through forests of palm tree apartments. Scoff at the monkeys who live in their dark tents. Down by the waterhole, drunk every Friday. Eating their nuts, saving their raisins for Sunday.
I think she was a middle-distance runner.... (the translation wasn't clear).. Could be a budding stately hero.. International competition in a year.. She was a good enough reason for a party....
Dirty white caravans down our road, sailing.. Vivas, Cortinas, weaving in their wake.. With hot, red-faced drivers, horns flattened, fists whaling,. Putting trust in blind corners as they overtake..
I see a dark sail on the horizon. set under a black cloud that hides the sun.. bring me my broadsword and clear understanding.. bring me my cross of gold as a talisman..
Come, let me play with you, Black Satin Dancer.. In all your giving, given is the answer.. Tearing life from limb and looking sweeter than the brightest flower in my.
Tomorrow is the one day I would change for a Monday. with freezing rains melting and no trains running. and sad eyes passing in windows flimsy. and my seat rocking from legs not quite matching.
Hand in the snake pit, black mamba chase. Head through the lion's cage, head on a plate. Two feet on the hot coals, last dance at the ball. Blindfold on the tightrope whenever you call.
Got a birthday card at Christmas. It made me think of Jesus Christ. It said, "I love you" in small letters. I simply had to read it twice. . Wood smoke curled from blackened chimneys.
Marty loved the sound of the stolen mandolin.. Somebody took it on a dare in the night-time.. Run up to the radio, calling out to the wind.. Now, bring it, bring it back at least an hour before flight time..
The mist rolls off the beaches:. the train rolls into the station.. weekend happiness seekers pent-up saturation.. well, we don't mean anyone any harm,.
Small child messing down, messing down.. in the streets of Bombay.. Cities like this have no shame, no shame;. indeed, why should they?. Out in the middle distance, several tragedies are playing..
She's catching the wind: the gentlest of breezes.. It's a sensitive passage she's sailing -. Through stormy straits, navigates my unfathomable failings..
Have you ever stood in the April wood. and called the new year in?. While the phantoms of three thousand years fly. as the dead leaves spin?. There's a snap in the grass behind your feet.
From early days of infancy, through trembling years of youth. Long murky middle age and final hours long in the tooth. Here's the hundred names of terror, creature you love the least.
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Six o'clock in the morning. Wake up by the bed. There sits a new Japanese toy. And I like it. . See the name on the wrapping. Can't read yet but I know.
Windy bus-stop. Click. Shop-window. Heel.. Shady gentleman. Fly-button. Feel.. In the underpass, the blind man stands.. With cold flute hands.. Symphony match-seller, breath out of time..
Yes'n she's bad-eyed and she's loveless.. A young man's fancy and an old man's dream.. I'm self raising and I flower in her company.. Give me no sugar without her cream..