Undusted Trust

This Frankenstein of flesh

Stitched together back from death

‘The Headless Children’ lyrics by Blackie Lawless

 

A memory, dimly recalled,

has the sense of something

hollow, an echo of a dream,

that non-linear moment upon

waking, when the world,

trusted to the night’s safe-keeping,

has broken the spell

but kept the secret.

 

A requiem reaches

the dishevelled heavens,

engineered by an arcane art

and furnished with

the frustration of a Phoenix,

bound to a Prime-Material plane

by a prophet who will not relinquish

the ashes of their religion.

Creased

Mount Ironing, you bastard!

My deplorable Everest,

the seemingly unconquerable

clothing conquest,

I look up to the heavens,

I wonder if this is a test,

I want a hug, I give a shrug,

I suppose I’ll do my best.

 

Sorting through the crinkled,

wrinkled wrongdoing,

I fight back tears and rising fears

of the futility eschewing,

the impossible likelihood

of completing the task, it

looks like a war-zone

in this blasted basket.

 

It almost hurts to see the shirts

and trousers in abundance,

but the excuses to procrastinate

have finally met redundancy,

so I set the iron to steam,

the dream of pressed clothes, dawning,

but then I think, to hell with it,

I’ll do it in the morning!

 

Zenith

This is the zenith,

the mountain peak,

this is of what your

ambition reeks,

this is the zenith,

your man-about-town,

be careful what you wish for,

it’s a long way down.

 

This is the zenith,

king of the hill,

big fish, small pond,

never standing still,

this is the zenith,

the killer in the clown,

be careful what you wish for,

it’s a long way down.

 

This is the zenith,

an untrustworthy messiah,

this is the zenith,

you can’t get any higher,

this is the zenith,

and if you don’t want to drown,

be careful what you wish for,

it’s a long way down.