Can't complain I guess
Brings in the dollar
Pays for the happy times
With the happy times
Everything else fades
A few of them get physical
Not in the pleasure sense
Black eyes
Bleeding arse hole
Happy times to come
Not really big enough
To fight back
Just take it
Money thrown in face
Black out I guess
Met this guy, last week
Friendly like
Neighbor from floor above
Might tout for johns
But Real life – not into it.
This guy, maybe a friend
Brought me left over dinner
For the microwave
Don't have one though
Ate it cold – alright, better than normal
Next day, he came
Ask for the Tupperware
Hard to get these days
Had a wife in tow
He said to me
Kid, Son,
Want a different job
Want less internal bleeding
Doesn't have to be this way
I get the feeling he may be right.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Post apocalyptic balcony number 10
Scattered fragments
of unnecessary wounds
lacerate the air
Around KidCarl's world
Curled in a naked wheel arch
Throbbing reality nightmare
Awakened to the world
of violence
and lack of compromise.
The slashing
and the stabbing
and the dying
slows down
as people limp
away
shouting
territorial claims
to the bare walls of the tunnel
maybe to the wounded
to the dead
to the next time
KidCarl
almost shacking
maybe so
just does not know anymore
Please the husky voice of our angel.
of unnecessary wounds
lacerate the air
Around KidCarl's world
Curled in a naked wheel arch
Throbbing reality nightmare
Awakened to the world
of violence
and lack of compromise.
The slashing
and the stabbing
and the dying
slows down
as people limp
away
shouting
territorial claims
to the bare walls of the tunnel
maybe to the wounded
to the dead
to the next time
KidCarl
almost shacking
maybe so
just does not know anymore
Please the husky voice of our angel.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Post apocalyptic balcony number 9
Tunnel walls focus
To Enlarging
Running
People
Reality breathing close
as life stutters
a quick dash people;
metal will scrape
brooding, echoing
resonant
cries
Sonic waves colliding
before flesh
and metal come together
and screams hint at
loss, regret, honor or victory
screams of silent dead faces
tarmac comfort
in a cool cave like forgotten tunnel
blades move on
muscles tensed,
beads of sweat or blood
mixed in orange sodium gloom
a blade moves across a throat
no pause for a light hearted jingle
KidCarl was bleeding not dying
curled in an empty truck wheel arch
hands protecting ears from death rattle melody
Mong Kok boys
and ShaTin girls.
The remaining
leave to where they came from
Agro4 and adrenaline drained
Blood congealing
Hatred blossoming.
To Enlarging
Running
People
Reality breathing close
as life stutters
a quick dash people;
metal will scrape
brooding, echoing
resonant
cries
Sonic waves colliding
before flesh
and metal come together
and screams hint at
loss, regret, honor or victory
screams of silent dead faces
tarmac comfort
in a cool cave like forgotten tunnel
blades move on
muscles tensed,
beads of sweat or blood
mixed in orange sodium gloom
a blade moves across a throat
no pause for a light hearted jingle
KidCarl was bleeding not dying
curled in an empty truck wheel arch
hands protecting ears from death rattle melody
Mong Kok boys
and ShaTin girls.
The remaining
leave to where they came from
Agro4 and adrenaline drained
Blood congealing
Hatred blossoming.
Labels:
death,
Hong Kong,
knife fight,
Post Apocalyptic
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)