I killed the digger bee
T' was not revenge
That's not my way
But the digger bee had come to stay
She buried her leaves beneath the earth
So what is the life of a cactus worth?
Cacti shrivelled and died
So I broke down and cried
I poured in some water
To enable the slaughter
But the bee got away
And the very next day
I saw her again
I felt anger and pain
She flew into her nest
Then I did the rest
I picked up a small stick
And I poked and I poked
And inside the nest
The bee choked then she croaked
And now she is dead
Nothing more to be said.
In the abattoir of human machinations
The noble savages estranged descendents
are ephemeral flitting of protoplasm
Inching toward the stars
Memories of infancy running on sand
The age of wonderment sublime
Night time dangerous animals lurk under the bed
Tomorrow retribution turns diurnal
Arise oh son in fine grammar schooled
You are their host they wait enthralled
The man with the bashed and roguish face
That chilling spectre of malevolent grace
Those banished wraiths who stifled shout
Entreat compassion from without
Beware, beware their fateful stare
And struggle free to live to err
The sauropods that walked the earth
Gigantic beasts in length, weight, girth
Great sea reptiles and pterodactyls
Walk, swim, fly in dinosaur fact files
The siren is poised on her chair
Ready to inveigle him
Into a web of her construction
To lure him to destruction
How can he come complete
This damaged spectator to the cannibal throng
People try so hard to attain
A state of grace words cannot explain
Souls downtrodden and laden with sadness
Succumb in time to shades of madness
Those who act as souls of compassion
But only as long as compassion is fashion
Convince themselves soundly they are superior
Others less scheming somehow inferior
But love is something we all need to ration
We can't dish it out like it's going out of fashion
We can't throw it around like piles of confetti
It just doesn't grow on trees like spaghetti
Life arrives and life does go
Along with happiness and woe
We wander on each single day
In all consuming cosmic play
The dance of life is but an art
With synchronicity it's heart
Self-contained, self-esteem, guarantee comes with
Socially well adjusted selfishness
Shuns the striving soul that yearns
Socially maladjusted selfishness
I cannot sleep in bed this mornin'
Even though it's not yet dawnin'
I just lie there and keep on yawnin'
'53 is the year I was born in
So I get dressed and wash my face
One six billionth of the human race
I look at myself and go downstairs
The way it seems I should have no cares
I want someone to play with me
But I have to make do with a cup of tea
I see a flower growing in the earth
And I think of all the sorrow known
And I get on my bike
And I ride and I ride and I ride
Into the July sun
And then I get tired and I lie on the grass
And then I sit on a bench on my arse
And I see all the people out in the park
But I have to get back before it gets dark
Municipal gentleman in a fine suit
His credentials I wouldn't presume to refute
He speaks in cliches with eloquent clarity
Esteemed by the staff of the mental health charity
Anti-racism, sexism, homophobia the rest
But I'm sure that it's money he really likes best
Another man died who did seem to care
He strung himself up in a state of despair
He spoke from his heart with eloquent clarity
Worked free of charge for the mental health charity
He wasn't an angel I'm sure that is true
In response to his suicide what did they do?
They acted as if he never had been
Politically correct but incredibly mean.
© Copyright 2004-2006
