Another Rose’s Name

Light the smoke over the even colder by now coffee

pondering the prophet Jesus and all the wonderful things he said

were meaningful for a carpenter,

love thy neighbor and give unto the meek

(but by the next match

we all know in the end he was just profit.)

People writing songs that no one gave a shit about

no one dared echo the sound of car adverts

We don’t belong in the gnarled grip of bad melodies

from John Hugh’s scripted teenage opera,

the muscle in the chest lives further –

Even as it is dragged out daily to crawl

a gutter of boiled up memories

whilst remembering your life’s valued

by a mobile list of other people

Pour another and laugh at a napalm heart

that is not buying it.
I said pour another, when the napalm clings.

Effluence flows from Shit Water Creek,

bite off your nose to spite the cheek,

can’t smell, can’t speak –

they all made choices, even me.

Who lives afraid and doesn’t even know

the prison bars are their skull,

Tell me again

the crimes of us all,

tell me again

I don’t understand, because

the story at the end of it all.

The napalm clings to palm hearts that fall,

and so what? We’re burning our dreams

with diesel engines,

while little boys die on distant oceans.

the constant purring child’s diesel hope engine untainted by told limited boundaries

it if was never taught how a barbed wire world sadly worked

the sky could be green as she flew to on swan as oppose the little train who not

fires never go out they are only fitted for the updating status quo

laugh at the glowing glass,, laugh at love and this old love that is never really old

the dark that comes even with a flammable heartbeat

the corner next to the jukebox that only plays Nick Cave Murder Ballads

prime real estate for when she walks in because she owns the poorly lit joint

change the world or stay in bed but the alarm goes off at 6am

they still play those early morning pencil shows

napalm hearts know where to find without them without turning on a television

they only play with constant buffering of existential crisis

They are there

screaming to share

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