Your horizon is cracked and lined
With what we have declined
Under my thumb
Until its done

The atom's disgrace
Split apart
Come together
For ever
For ever and ever

The Western scene
Is too big for me
Turn and shoot
180 degree

Finger on the trigger
Better not miss

Harbour Master

The night claws the harbour
And spins its web
The water spun black
The cloud's blood red

From all that you could have been
A million years
We could have been

The sky flows with god
Fills my breath
We're waking in the valleys
Shaking off your death

Tumor

It’s been so long

The sunset’s lost

Its grip on me

When I was young

I could feel its colour

Drink it clean

Now I wait for it to return

With all I had seen

The Firing Line (2012)

You are not the angel
That I've been dreaming of
You fell forever
Eternal faded form

They hold in the field
Break fast and near
The firing line
Was buried in time

I watched the leaves
Falling from your tree
Daughter of a dream
Buried for me
For me

Waterspout

Caught you all

Staring at the fire

The moss holds

It grips

Then unwinds

It rests in fingers

Tonguing high

The depths of winter

Comes Alive

I have seen

A longitudinal dawn

In a town known

For its perfect form

The night was brighter

In Forty-Five

The depths of winter

Come Alive

Seen it all before

Look me in my eye 

You know its the truth

You know I don't lie

It's all in the way

The coffee's hot

You've seen my dreams

You know they're not

Alive

Where have all the powers gone?

Webs of internet trace outwards like fireflies over a black ocean.

Droves of humanity pack themselves into stores until they know repulsion.

The arm waving fanatic killing dreams with devotion.

Sucks the light from street lamps until time stands still as does motion

Bouncing off nodes; bouncing off walls; the trawlers bring in their vicious catch

The castle emptied; landowners massacre, Durkirk’s dash

I am become another life; nothing but trash

Burnt out; putting out fires with your last match

Sucking marrow out of life; life sucking the marrow out of you

Reminded of that corpse floating delicately born anew

Surface tension rattles the skin as if held fast in glue

Your needles are gone; your hopes become few.

The milky cream marble columns betray an innocence lost in this republic. 

The Hordes

The Hordes await
In those first years
Sucking my blood
With their demands

Over a hundred of the fuckers
They don't care
Stare blankly at the paper
Is that how it will be?

Organisation
Litigation
Never my strong suit
Fuckers better follow
Their God's commands