There is no way to see the day
When all is said and done
Time the thief brings all to grief
Beneath the mourning Sun
The bondage maid and vicious fool
Do run and play their games
But all will come to ruin’s hall
Beneath the Ace of Spades
See the monkey in the pot
Behind the garage door
See it scratch its balls and spit
As the soup spills on the floor
As statues writhe in splintered sex
Steel eagles rend their young
‘twas ever so in wonderland
Where writers have their fun
Replete with thoughts of blood and gore
The writer’s mind rebels
And so he munches on a corpse
His mother at him yells
You silly boy she squeaks and bleats
That meat is barely cold
And grannie’s tits are old and dry
So first lick off the mould
But on and on the writer chomps
Through tit and arse and leg
Chowing corpses feels so good
More corpse! I hear her beg
Yawning loud the sun sets course
And leaves the field of play
And the moon barks loud upon a cloud
Away false god away!
And so the bats rip loose and screech
And swoop in dives and whirls
As midget gays priapic play
And penetrate the girls
Now round and round the world so spins
The priest falls out of bed
The prostitute he leaves behind
Saws off her painted head
As the squirrel f***s its store of nuts
And decks them with its juice
Who needs pussy now it squeaks?
At the bright green furry goose
And then the Ace of spades appears
All motion must now cease
The chair you find yourself upon
Imprisons you four years
As you wait upon the sun’s return
In the middle of the night
As the moon turns tail and runs away
And the virgin nuns take flight
A deathy chill now freezes all
And god brings out his dice
The numbers make him laugh and sing
As we all turn into mice
In a never-ending world you see
All things must come to pass
For probability is king
From the first unto the last
So if you wake up in a shell
And you wonder what's the tail?
There's nothing wrong it's simply time
For you to be a snail
So on and on the dance spins on
In the devil's quantum brew
We never know from day to day
What's in store for me and you.
Goodnight!!!
JOYCE * HIS INSPIRATIONS
Regis
Ron
witty, ironic and written
with great confidence and intelligence.
Yes!
john
Sage