Sunday, 27 February 2011

Never Eat Your Greens

Cool little 'oh's' floating safely
To the shore.
Timber and sawteeth lilting always
on the sound.
Batteries in the car burning quickly
Down to dull.
Rocks in the can find their way
Onto the roof.

Steak sauce and froth on their journey
To his mouth.
Spray paint and insults prop themselves
Upon the wall.
Cool little 'oh's' post him up
Under the bridge.
Viral strain of sweetness that
Sicks back up his milk.

String limbed men in a book
Of noodled thoughts.
Bathtub of creatures that lick
the leaking wounds.
Velour is the pillow in the
Backseat of the car.
Grease sheethed is the hair as
He's waiting to go home.

Soft is the cardboard, is the use
Of that old chair.
Let him call a friend while
He's waiting to go home.
Cool little 'oh's' follow sleds
Right off the hill.
Snow peppers blonde and white knuckles
Grip the ride.

Warm plastic meals tickle sharply
Down the throat.
Up above the shop bending copper
Nodding out.
Buying all the nothing fills the room with
Too much droll.
His beard smoothes over manhood
While his speak discovers thrill.

No cool little 'oh's' chiming fruitful
On the cross.
Papered bedroom walls peeling faces
From the glue.
No cool little 'oh's' for my favourite
One we lost
Just low drawn out growls from those
Who tore him up.