Nincher's thread of poetry and lyrics of questionable quality.

[Something Fast]

Uh, so yeah, here's some of my rather dodgy poetry and lyrics.
I'll just stick them here so they don't clog up the forum.

to start it off...

Some things must taste so sweet,
A twisted child, obsolete
Sneering from one step behind.
A different kind of grasping heat,
Out of ideas and in a bind.

Another sharp wooden missile,
Moving fast, completely sessile,
Dried out and given to rot.
Another shift bound for the file,
Tongue on fire or maybe not.

[Something Fast]

Shivers in the topiary, a secateur smile.
A little girl for every mile.
Tea and scones with an anchorite
Staining my fingers cobalt blue,
When I have dinner with a Thelemite
I'll save some just deserts for you.
My friend just told me green is a tricky thing,
That nothing's for certain in this world,
And for every man there's a waiting girl.
He would be right if it weren't for the poison's sting.
Slow progress in a shattered year,
Backslid and turned around.
Alas, I really do fear
His hospital boat has run aground.

[Something Fast]

I'm not a fan of modern man.
Between him and an atavism
Isn't such a hard decision
For me to make.
In this year of our lord,
The day the skin will break.

Nietzsche's lovechild, frozen and wild.
Dante's inferno in a smile
Chipping deeper all the while
In a downward motion.
Curling up into a ball,
Or at least that's the general notion.

Burning juice spins me loose.
Twisting and turning in the night
Too fast, out like a light
Or something.
Idly tracing the veins
Mouthfuls of air result in nothing.

--

Spirulina plasticine,
Paint my heart
Paint me green.
Spirulina take your fill,
Make me yours
Make me ill.
Spirulina go away,
You're so advanced,
You're here to stay.
Bottled for our mass consumption
Grown in vats for mass production.

--

A Tacky sort of lens
Causes his mind's eye myopia.
A chew toy manchild pretend
With a psyche that twists rather than bends.
Searching for a crocodile
Send him to his own utopia,
Pseudo chew toy manchild
Swimming in the Nile.

[Something Fast]

My apologies with the angsty poetry/lyrics. I'm not really angsty or anything, it just seems to always come out that way...

Fruit in a Box

Let's paint our toenails a pinkish lime
And send a gargoyle to a second sun.
When the salmon refuse to run
Hagfish churn up books of slime
And citrus visions are a crime.
Yolk, eggshell, albumin,
Mangosteens and jelly knees.
We'll peel them off one by one
From the branches of your family tree.

Naughty words in nestled places,
Tomato gifts from a chilli god.
Prised from the land of nod,
Gestapo girls slap flying aces
And turn to stone in their faces.
Tabula rasa broke our backs
Tangled on graphite lines.
Orchard cults never last
Broken down into something fine.

This is the way we peel a grape,
And live amongst fruit in a box.
It may be time to change the locks,
Wax bananas and crime scene tape,
Never mind the mess we make.
Apricot pits and bitter almonds
Comrades on a sticky summit.
To reap this sweet harvest
Flying aces can't help but plummet.

----

The Simpleton's Prophecy

Blue shadows wake the tsetse flies
And the inbuilt sense of disgust.
What isn't there to distrust,
With their sharp unteeth and compound eyes?
Long lost species congregate,
Little specks everywhere,
On the moon and in my hair,
That dose of salts was not too late.
I don't know if I want to believe what I read
When they tell me they're not sesame seeds.
It's a matter of if I care
And never what I need.
Join the scratching inside the walls.
A new black eye for every suture
Dosed up to the eyeballs,
This is just an ersatz future.
From one to two, if you were me
From two to three, and maybe more
You'd hear the simpleton's prophecy.

[Something Fast]

There's a warm wind on the back of my neck,
I noticed when I went to check
The fish is out of water
Twitching away to itself on the bank.
Mixed up in the bricks and the mortar
An irrelevant temple to nothing today.
Lost in it's own proportions,
All tin, copper and steel
As twisted as a landed eel
Lost in it's feeble frenzied contortions.
He shows his poisons in the way he was banded,
Here is the church, and here's the steeple.
Just like the fish, the eagle has been landed
Decorations for all the odd people.

How do you like the view from back there?
The chill on the breeze, the wind in your hair?
Brought up from the depths,
How do you like to breathe the cool air?
Below sea level your scales seem lustrous,
But that's not the case up here on the surface
Hey little fish, where are your lungs?
How do you think the mangroves were won?