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CONDITIONAL LOVE

Territories have been claimed on the walls of men's rooms
And thoughts that could bend spoons are warped from all the pen fumes
Music born in bedrooms; egg boxes and a flair for song
Next it's a neck of dead foxes and dreadlocks from a hair salon
An art formed of samples from an oldies bin
Cardboard and linoleum; a hard core and moldy skin
Gold sequins and a Napoleon Complex
Offset with the same old sequence of Draconian concepts
Out of context and high on a whiff of grape shot
And vapours off the ink pen illustrations on a mix tape box
Makeshift schemes of foam, wire and pantyhose
Are fired by escapist dreams of bone-china and swanky clothes

Behind a pop shield, camouflaged in snake skin
Once innovation is sabotaged, have a glass of straight gin
Members are swollen with poison and will cease to function, soon
All of these attempts will end to suck the venom out the puncture wound
Dilated pupils; short sighted and losing focus
Might still make it through, once the bruising goes at
The tennis court behind the bike sheds trading taylor mades 
Idols names get carved on biceps with razor blades
Father and mother figures are stuck on chests of drawers
Below fluorescent stars on the ceiling and amongst the clutter on bedroom floors
Thirty minutes to a side means cut off in head sets
While dirty heads lose higher frequencies on twin cassette decks

Echoes of expectoration, rumbles and metallic jingles
Resonate in tunnels of urine and phallic symbols
Through openings in wire mesh and over broken glass
Lamp-lit vigils still go on unnoticed under the overpass
The illegible signatures of troubled geniuses
Carved on park benches and shut down public conveniences
Missing phone book pages and broken led screens
Community projects and 'helping you get wealthy free' schemes
empty coupon parking lots of circulars for home loans
Supermarket trolleys, plastic bags and road cones
Pine needles, latex, glass and aluminium lie
Off the side off bush tracks beneath vast vermilion sky's

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BOONDOGGLER 2

it's the alley cat with notches on his ears
picking pocket watches for profits off his peers
(not a prosperous career) his eyes reflect the moon
even though the sun shows no sign of setting soon
(you might hear him laugh) its a mirage
it's a tight squeeze to park in his garage
a thin drink of water he holds back the groans
(what for?) cos his wife is an old bag of bones
living in the shadow of his father he takes after his mother
after a hard life its hard to recover
the peruser of desks, chairs and dressers
he's proof that possessions possess their possessors
obsessed with on selling , the pest of the community
collecting old seconds as investment opportunities
bric-a-brack and useless trinkets
sifting through the liquor rack in a loose fit singlet

rambling on, I haven't got a handle on
this gambling problem now its standing strong
sandal on one foot, jandle on the other
heard a scandal from my mother dads a foreign lover
who tangled under covers  I have a foreign brother 
damp sack for a hat anoraks an orange cover
smell like a loo, you can tell I like glue
had one hell of a night now where's my right shoe?
this abandoned flat is jam packed it's a  can of rats
cats clamber for rancid scraps
solvents embedded in my mo
I can't get em out so ill have to let it grow

I Keep the hair out my face with an old rubber band
stare out to space, take a stroll in wonderland
It isn't summer but his old mug is tanned
I Didn't understand when he was told drugs are banned
Fled from debt measure meths in level teaspoons
better get some rest, never fret, this devil leaves soon

Weather beaten leather reeks of nether regions
Its 11 weeks till we'll get a better season
Its past dark and the cars fast are passing
Past the grass park that ive parked my arse in
'blast!' Cant start a spark with my half a carton
Cos march last past I was charged with arson

taking a ribbing, been mooned, hit and jeered at
a queer chap who grew sick of mere fact
making a rhythm on a broom stick of beer caps
tap spoons, hat, loose fit with ear flaps...
only charlatans are all shaved smooth
flask of gin, sing the doorway blues
its hard to win when you always lose
glancing in a bargain bin for more suede shoes
harlequin, that talks in dollar signs
in the cardigan bought for my columbine
parked at parliament to sort white collar crime
on the margins; distraught by modern times
I've often had blisters from this bumpy old trail
living off a cats whisker and a puppy dogs tail
in a tight corner, made it out by boar hair
no furniture but this old faded lawn chair
one bad hand, unsung bum, humdrum cad
unplanned dad, one man band,
at a loose end, a dapper chap at the haberdashery
mooching for a dash of sherry scratching for a splash of tea

Moonlit soccer, human frogger
No discrimination if you're coon or wogger
Having a snooze at noon The boondoggler
Robbing a jukebox in a mutes opera


BOATSHED

There's a boat shed on the bank of an estuary
with a flag raised over head, its flanked by a chestnut tree
there's a deck out the front that has french doors
I sit with them open and listen to jazz records
its not too civilised in this musty old home
across the river lies an industrial zone
but I paddle in peace, ill never need a new bach
there's a gaggle of geese to which I feed my food scraps
sea gulls are my guardian angels
pardon me but that's hardly a fable
They show me that I have nothing to fear
But once I hit one with my car and had bad luck for a year
I buy rust buckets and drive em into the dirt
There's no material on earth that I think has worth
when my time comes I pray that the day is beautiful
tell my son to play 'a lighter shade of pale' at my funeral

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GRINDER

its a new kind of matter, scattered in heaps, tracks and systems
in time it gathers in grease traps and cisterns
it trickles down poles and digs out of dead ends
pirouettes down plugholes and wriggles around s-bends
the base is anchored, it grows against gravity
into open spaces; and knows mistakes have the key
its horizontally and a vertical axis
with an aversion to rehearsal inverting the purpose of practice
sawing in portions quartering foursomes
contorting torn tin pouring water in porcelain
pausing in caution causing forced abortion
distorted foreshortening, drawing ignores proportion
slicing rags, grinding matchsticks with scissors
unwinding caps and finding wax, wicks and spirits
tight and compact, binding strap clips with rivets
rising gas combines in catchments and skillets

curdled reductions crust, stirring does nothing
on the verge of eruption thrust journals in dustbins
shovel into a furnace and just burn all instructions
internal combustion busts external construction
rolled flat, it folds back upon itself
with crack moulds in whole stacks upon a shelf,
brushing the surface, dusting the dirt, touching the curved bits 
scuffing up words and clutching for purpose
cats have mice and rats in their innards
blackbirds fly with scraps in their gizzards
bats in the belfry are trapped in a blizzard
scratching for fly's, gnats, arachnids and lizards
grip helves tight, strike and split cells
chloroform smells duck outside for quick spells.
chipped shells rusted lined on brick shelves
sink wells, slip slide with slick gels
sniff smells, duck outside for quick spells
blustering breeze ruffles the leaves of trees leaning
stuck on the eaves beams now the gutters need cleaning

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TAPE RADIO

planning to break loose making notes and sketches
Scanning for escape routes to take taking note of exits
counting days down notching them all, watching the wall
hop scotching on the floor tossing a ball

keeping mouths closed writing in diaries
keeping selves composed never inciting inquiries
making rooms tidy, straightening beds nice
shaving heads against lice, savouring bread and rice

done as told always acting accordingly
running in the cold morning, catching the autumn breeze
stretching legs out, stepping around puddles
kept out of trouble kept heads down and kept out of struggle

straightened and readied, aced all the chores set
patient and steady, made sure the floors swept
no time for dreaming, only laying awake
drawing diagrams and scheming its time to make a break

swallowing swords, juggling knives and flaming torches
smuggling supplies, taking resources
its a tight rope walk of a thousand yards
only high hopes are supporting this house of cards

taking precautions the plan is water tight
straightening distortions, a candle as the source of light
ironing out problems, hitches and glitches
flicking switches, fixing rips with stitches

played by the rule book, followed the game plan
stayed right through school picked and modelled the name-brands
keeping in line never letting a hair long
beating in time and never setting a snare wrong

clipping long nails, cleaning dead skin
sticking on rails, and keeping heads in
tying sheets together, hope they take the weight
try and keep a tether on the rope and make an escape

with a shank in a boot and a pick in a pocket
liquor in a bottle and a picture in a locket
steady arms and many tricks up sly sleeves
but also sweaty palms and lips cut by teeth

try not to fidget, forget things or fumble,
hold still all digits, think for the best, don't crumble
pulses pulsate, hearing hearts in heads
part lead pins and needles dart in legs

no turning back now, there's been a lot till this point
and it's a sharp one, feelings have got to disjoint
choosing the moment when all backs are turned
when all facts are learned and all acts adjourn

ignoring the troubles, clawing in chimneys
crawling though tunnels on all fours with skinned knees
leaving this place happily, without a fear
letting the rope down gone and outta here now

I've had it up to here with this old tape radio
stuck on one station and the tape deck plays too slow
missing some knobs, it has a coathanger for an aerial
one speaker crackles, it's time to bury this stereo

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© 2006 Billy Wilson