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Men 2nd

Sailing under a false flag
We're crossing the IDL
Becalmed where no creature lives

Lost, forsaken, cursed

Holed below the water line
A shift in the plimsoll line
Pumps in the engine room

Women and children first

Hysterical, no humour
Sabotage, a rumour
Captain-less and captionless

Injury, hunger, thirst
Reptile, prehensile, servile, editorial, gentile, fatal

Reuters

Our own correspondent is sorry to tell
Of an uneasy time that all is not well

On the borders there's movement
In the hills there is trouble
Food is short, crime is double

Prices have risen since the government fell
Casualties increase as the enemy shell
The climate's unhealthy, flies and rats thrive
And sooner or later the end will arrive

This is your correspondent, running out of tape
Gunfire's increasing, looting, burning, rape

106 Beats That

If he had a room, he'd paint it white,
survives the day, prefers the night,
build slight

Got a head for figures
No time for bicker(er)s
(Or so he says)
Prefers the company of a woman

Finds it more physical (that's an important word),
always seen first then heard,
such a rare bird

With praise he glows, with change he grows, finds that important, hates waiting, it's not stimulating, likes celebrating, I can't understand why that is so funny, that is sex

From The Nursery

So truly jolly, an Xmas dolly
I talk on request, I'm never depressed
I'll wink a good time till someone pokes me
One big blue eye out

So simply heady, a birthday teddy
Punches make me bleat, this bare soul is sweet
Keeping you warm at night till someone rubs me
Hey, a fun-filled toy

Free on a tightrope lives the animal soap
Safe, used, been tested, body molester
Amphibious charm, scum in several baths
Has blurred my features

Would you like to say
What that silence was meant to intend?
Would you like to see
What violence these eyes can send
To your heart
From the nursery

Dot Dash

Mist closing in, getting thicker
One drops out, becoming quicker
Lights grow dim, they glimmer
The chances smaller, the odds are slimmer

Dot dash, dim flash, don't crash

Loosening my grip
Be sure to tread carefully
Steering a passage
Finding a line

Crosses on fire, crossfire
Progressive acceleration, skidding but the expression
Remains pan, radiators for all
Radial, I'm still in control, I understand, a hand, a hand moved me

Driven by self-propulsion
Turning right across the stream
The risks increased with sustained leisure
Courting death, so ill at ease

Another The Letter

Passed to hand, behind the curtain
The letter brings change, now things are uncertain
Hand to hand, the letter moves on
Like a series of shocks, but the contents are known

Oh faint heart, when the letter arrives
You suddenly find things getting life-size

Once the air rang with things unsaid
Now cruel outlines are easily read
Behind the curtain, in the yellow bulb light
The letter reads: I took my own life

Practice Makes Perfect

Practice makes perfect, yes I can prove it
Business or pleasure, the more that you do it

Please dress in your best things, this course was unplanned
'Cos you see up in my bedroom I've got Sarah Bernhardt's hand

Practice makes perfect, I've done this before
Never for money, always for love

Please dress in your best things, and don't make a fuss
'Cos you see up in my bedroom Sarah's waiting for us

Marooned

An unwilling sailor adrift from Arctic waters
As the water gets warmer, my iceberg gets smaller

As he pours more petrol on, he feels no fear
As the flames get nearer, his thoughts get clearer

A blue-white polar bear arrives at the end
Diverting his attention, his feelings froze over

I'm only a runaway AWOL at the logical start
Not present in the present, overboard with limited future

And I'm standing alone, still getting a thrill
While the ship is afloat, he's losing his boat

I Am The Fly

Crawling, over your window, you think I'm confused
I'm waiting for the divergent wasp

To complete my current ruse

You use a plate-glass screen
To protect my chosen target

But there's an air-pellet hole
I can crawl through to you

I am the fly in the ointment
I can spread more disease than the fleas
Which nibble away at your window display
Yes, I am the fly in the ointment
I shake you down to say please as you
Accept the next dose of disease

Lowdown

The time is too short but never too long
to reach ahead, to project the image,
which will in time become a concrete dream.

Another cigarette, another day,
from A to B, again avoiding C, D, and E,
'cos E is where you play the blues.
Avoiding a death is to win the game,
to avoid relegation, the big E.

Drowning in the big swim, rising to the surface

The smell of you
That's the lowdown

Mercy

Crooks lay in a weighted state
waiting for the dead assassin
while the rust pure powder puffs,
a shimmering opaque red.
Papers spread, no-one driving,
we hurled direct ahead

the windows dark-green tinted,
the hearse a taxi instead.
Snow storms forecast imminently
in areas Dogger, Viking,
Moray, Forth, and Orkney.
Keeping cover in denuded scrub,
the school destroyed raised the club,
panic spreading with threat of fire.

Crowding beneath a layer of foam,
refugees intertwined, alone.

Within the institution walls,
in pastel blue, clinical white,
slashed red lipsticked walls, mercy nurse tonight.

Seems like dark grey stockings
in the raking torchlight with 4 AM stubble,
a midnight transvestite.