posted on October 8, 2008 at 8:21 pm

at night i use flying ointment
and leave my tree
thousands of us take to the air
flying over ghent or barcelona
soaring like a weightless thing
coming down in the parks and gardens of the imperators
skimming over the fountains damp aura
and rushing through the flowerheads
easing the dull ache of longing
the friction of the stems
feeding on strawberries and juicy little grapes
drifting through windows in palaces
drinking the leftover wine
tumbling through wee small hours
wrapped up in midnight blue
losing myself in books
or swept up in the music of memory
flung high by some symphony of yesteryear
high in the empty splendid rooms
candlelit and shadows run here and there
i thirst for delicious love
oh love love love
where can love be hiding tonight
when suddenly a hundred mirrors revolve
and dark love is revealed
love gone bad
spoilt love
too much love
love that hurts and hurts
no love
no love at all
no love at all that love
wicked love and stupid love
and brutal love with who doesnt know when to stop
and wayward love with the preening fawn
and sorry love with the excuses
and busy love with absolutely no time for you
and dead love already going off
and the love that shall have no name
and the love that takes every name in vain
and the love that makes you forget
and the love that makes you wish you never remembered
big love
hard on love
stiff love
cheap n nasty love that makes you sick
forbidden love with the veils
bought love that says anything you like
carnal love with the fishnets and hooks
temporary love with a silly smile
funny love but no ones laughing
unloved love that no one wants
love all used up and squeezed out
but where
but when
but who is ..
no sweet love
no lovely love
no ameliorating love
no love to mitigate my crimes of passion
no love to guide me through this tonight
no love to speak of…
i leave the banquet hall of great souls then
my wings beat faster than anger
my eyes see swifter than sky
my hands hold harder than a river
my heart beats stronger than gold
my spells summon the midges of summer
or keep out the winter sprites
i see myself in the dust that sparkles once
and doors that open inwards
and fat rumours spread like butter on tomorrow
whirl around the old masters house
upstairs downstairs
all along the rails
call me uncertain
call me even when you have no voice
when youre lost in the living room with dead love
when something horrible reaches up n squeezes the breath out of you
when you discover the great loneliness at the heart of society
when the best wine makes you puke
when you listen to cocaine
or sniff music
when you fall asleep still aroused
and touch yourself all night
your hands moving like bizzy little snakes
when you lie on your stomach
grunting and groaning
as some mad storm straddles your back
and pounds down along your spine
and flames lick around your harbours
and your little boat catches fire…aw, what a shame…
and waves rear up in your bed
and you sink sink sink
there is no rest
in this life
in a next life
in all other lives
ones you may not even lead
as if you lead a life like you lead a dog
as if trouble dogs you
and follows you to school
where the children laugh and play
to see a beast break that gilt-edged rule
call me if you need me
when your falling through another empty evening
wingless like a crab
or your feline senses desert you
and the birds twitter on the line
and you cant even count to zero
and you cant even be odd
look in the drapes in the folds of the earth
in the sunset modulation of light
in the red and pinks and oranges of dusk
in orchards on the skins of soft peaches
and diving down fleshpots rude jetty
and the catalyst for chemical exchanges
and the formulation of diverse plans
and more white lies about your black deeds
and appearing in court naked as a jailbird
when you think about the jungle that swallows cities
and you think how nature will always prevail
and you think about the lilac clouds from the 14th of february
and you think youve exhausted the mine
but youve only just hit the seam
and you arrive home unexpected and find nothings wrong
and the doctor says what are you doing for christmas
and its so hot as you run down the lane between the houses
and you got a gift that goes on living
and the quick brown docs jump over the lazy fog
think of me when you expire on times avenue
think of me as you broadcast your last good night
think of me in 1973 at my girlfriends listening to raphael
think of me in some cottage in brittany eating my words
think of me on tour with my fender guitar
think of me being executed and grin n say “thats life”
think of world war one and all those great fashions
think of manfred von richtofen and his blue max
think of edward the 5th and a half
who gave it all up in mrs simpson
think of titian aboard the titanic
arriving safely in toronto
after sailing in the himalayan lagoons
think of a white elephant or a jumble sale
think of little steven in the monaro mall
his daddy gave him 5.95 to buy abraxas
think of all that school girl flesh now old like me
think of the kids already gone to the great lyneham high in the sky
think of how the christmas holidays went on n on
identical days of heat and boredom
so you crucified bugs and fired your arrows at birds
think of adolescences big waiting room
where boys jerk off to bitches
and girls jerk off to stallions
where you trade childhoods dreams
for a slap round the head
and a prick in yer hand
and like grey hounds and whippets they set you free
and you come out of the box baying for some bunnies blood
and you chase and you surround
and you tear and tear and tear
and think of the smell of model glue and humbrol paint
made in hull england
and you locate and cement
and you apply the decals
and you choose your options
and you say fuck all this
bring on the dope
bring on the paint strippers
bring on the 22nd century
bring on the pots of unbound pigment
bring on the snow white finns
and the jet black ethiopians
bring on the intellectual ratbags
and the cretinous media
bring on the slobbering execs and vacuous wranglers
bring on the gay dads and the kids with 3 mothers
bring on the scorching mornings of white hot summer
bring on the dead air conditioners and empty ice trays
give me my life back
make me rich
make me a star
make me a break
bake me a cake
take away this ache
get me a halo
shoot me a message
gimme a fix
gimme a panacea
wheres my soy nepenthe
wheres my gram from mickey finns private stash
wheres my morphine cocktail with dylan thomas
wheres my dilaudid n martini with dino martino
wheres my cognac with frank n sammy
wheres my harpoon n my stingray
wheres my baby grande and my precious little
wheres my little wag with his tiny joke
wheres my pests and plagues and famines and wars
wheres my sequence with scott n ricki n polinski
wheres my hollow cast
wheres my mutineers
wheres my ears n eyes
thats where
i fold out my invisible pinions
i take more of the ointment
and you wont see my ass for dust

22 Responses to “flying ointment”

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