Tally Baker, son of Joe, jumped off the lonesome bridge
"She's Gone" he cried, and knew at last he'd no reason to live.
What's the point of living if he'd only lived for her?
Why should he go on, when they went on no more?
The lonesome bridge did weep to see the end of poor sweet Tally.
He sacrificed his one keystone and crashed into the valley.
The creek gave out a sigh that traveled on in haunting echo
And gurgled as she swallowed and the bridge went down below.
The vixen saw the whole affair, perched high upon the hill,
She waited for the hunter man and let him make the kill.
Her tiny cubs were left alone, froze and slipped away.
I don't want to go
In a microwave.
I don't want to go
On the hotplate.
I don't want to go
Melted cheese face.
I don't want to go
In raw meat cage.
Baby on heat!
Baby on heat!
I don't want to go
In the tandoor.
I don't want to go
In the fridge door.
I don't want to go
On the spit roast.
I don't want to go
Through car window.
Baby on heat!
Baby on heat!
I don't want to go
On toast with jam.
I don't want to go
In the fry pan.
I don't want to go
Served cold with spam.
I don't want to go
In the fat man.
Have you seen what they want me to be?
How they spread their disease
I refuse to be civilised
I am goin to be free.
There will be no turning back this time
There is no one that Id rather be
Than the man that you see
And I know there will come a time
When therell be only me
There will be no turning back this time
-solo-
And I want to escape modern life
All the signs of the times.
And I do not want to fit in
By & by I am mine
When I was small & the cold war was ended
I's still afraid 'cos I knew they pretended
That living was safe and the world was okay,
All humankind was still nuclear prey.
When I was small & Bosnian defenses
I thought that people watched war behind fences.
I could not understand that real people would die;
A soldier's not human in these infant eyes.
Teacher, are we okay?
Will we salvage our lives?
Tell me not to worry;
We're not made to survive.
When I was small I saw villages slaughtered
In wars over freedom or money or water.
Skulls piled high in the huts of a town
& one dark old man wears ethereal frown.
When I was small two r
Sometimes I forget your face
I cannot write it down
I can see you smiling now
I know you never frown
There's a kind of black and white
Image in my mind
I see an image of your eyes
They're wide, sexy and kind.
Then colours flood throughout my thoughts
They stain your eyes blue
Except a tiny slice of tan
That's how I remember you
Everyday I looked in you
Spying through your eyes
But your gaze was always fixed
In some other guy's
We had our moments, I recall
When I gave my heart.
In return, I had your eyes
With which I'll never part.
The windows on the soul, they say
That is the role of eyes
I'm not sure if I agree
They se
I hear you from a distance
You're crying in the dark
Grunge surrounds your being
Sepia and Stark
You are my little junkie
My intraveinous girl
You fight a losing battle
You fight the living world
Everytime I sleep now
I think about the cost
The price you must be paying
Your life is surely lost.
I want to make you feel better.
I want to heal you with my words.
I hope when you read this letter
You're chemical free
Thinking of me.
I'm thinking of you.
Randalph the Corporate Unicorn by tinmanthegreat, literature
Literature
Randalph the Corporate Unicorn
It was 8.30 and an alarm was screaming its approval of the smog tainted sunrise that startled the birds into their frantic rituals. A red door flew open and four Globalwear™ suits came rushing in to fill the vacuum. A pale, golden horn poked out from beneath a fine wool blanket.
"T'dee will be a good dee" it grumbled through the early morning haze.
"Good morning Mr. Golden Horn, sir," Sang the P.A. Chorus, "May I get you anything? The figures are here, The CEO called, we've booked the arena, a show was cancelled, the deal was closed, we have the new sponsorship agreement. Here's you mail; bills, fans… Oh, and the important mail is by your b
It's something obscene
Like taking scissors to a feather,
A Zippo to van Gogh.
It's something unclean
Like statutory in a stranger's bedroom,
A hooker, good looker.
It's a virulent infection,
An illness that reflects society,
It breathes disease.
It's a minor correction,
Pedantry to the infallible,
It hates mistakes.
It's something perfect,
The correct combination of flaws,
Essentially, it's me.
The tatters of Middle East peace lie in shreds.
Zion,
An act of charity on behalf of the world, at the expense of so many,
Is gone.
With it are the lives of millions.
Remember life?
It took the lord just six days to create the World.
On the seventh day he rested.
It took Israel just six days to undo their World.
On the Sabbath day they rested.
A thousand year hibernation.
And as the steel machines rust in peace,
Their cold insincerity forgotten,
The Hill of Spring settles in for nuclear winter.
Here it is: The end of the line.
At some point, someone went too far.
Was this always going to happen?
Or is this god's revenge for soul corruption?
An Iranian rocket arcs through the sky
Screaming Allah Ackbar!
An Israeli rocket leaps to their defense
Screaming mutually assured destruction.
Two tiny blips on a screen somewhere
A symbol of imminent peace.
They stand out on radar as if to say
To kill, one needn't a license.
Some kind of ironic coup de gras
Perhaps the only remaining release.
Then an awful sensation, like millions of voices
Cried out in terror and then suddenly silenced.
A month or two ago I was lying awake in bed unable to sleep (A usual occurence in the life of Tinman) when a new voice spoke in my head, it said \"Tiernan, look up\" I looked up and much to my surprise ther was a sort of horse man thing\'s face poking through the ceiling, by horse man I don\'t mean like a centaur, I mean like when you refer to HomoErgusta or Erectus with Ape Man, it\'s sort of half way half man half beast in the facial features, well this is what the The horse man thing was, but horse instead of ape.
He sighed the sigh you\'d sigh had you struggled all you life to learn something and then when you explained it to someone the
At The End of The Day by tinmanthegreat, literature
Literature
At The End of The Day
There was a time I remember, long ago
When you still felt for me what I feel for you,
But time, the great healer, creates so many more scars than he heals.
I lost you long ago but never did I lose hope in your return,
Some things never change, no matter how much all else may.
Why?
At the end of the day I'll be the one who still loves you
Ode to a Small Cotton Sock by tinmanthegreat, literature
Literature
Ode to a Small Cotton Sock
And hark, did there come a pair of purple socks to the land of men, And all knew it to be a sign from the Lord God, for He spoke unto them: "To Adam, I leave a pair of cotton socks, fit only for the greatest of men." And the socks were good, and all did avert their eyes, as they were indeed fit only for the greatest of men.
But Lo, there was another who could wear these socks. One of such divine beauty that God himself was puzzled as to her creation. And so took she the socks of Adam, and on her own feet did place them, with a pair of matching ug boots and a John Butler t-shirt. And mightily, at the heavens, did she dance. And Lo, the ug boo
Eddie in Sharehouseville Pt1 by tinmanthegreat, literature
Literature
Eddie in Sharehouseville Pt1
When Eddie came out to Australia he had only the clothes on his back, his passport, a student visa and seventy Australian dollars in travelers' cheques. Why he'd bothered getting travelers' cheques he had no idea, but that didn't change the fact that right now he was standing in the middle of a noisy and somewhat destructive argument between the two original tenants and majority furniture owners of the sharehouse he had learnt to call home. He knew he should just leave, the door to his room was barely five paces away, but something was holding him there and refused to relinquish its grip. Maybe it was the fact that this argument was all his f
Eddie in Sharehouseville Pt2 by tinmanthegreat, literature
Literature
Eddie in Sharehouseville Pt2
When Eddie got back from his lectures the following day he stumbled into the kitchen, but when he reached for a beer he grabbed at air. The fridge was gone. Come to think of it, nearly everything was gone. The only items Eddie could see remaining from his seat were the stool Eddie was sitting on, the phone, Jen's Playstation and Kris' death metal record collection, burglars? Without beer he could see no reason to be in the kitchen so Eddie slinked warily upstairs, in case the perpetrators were still in the house. Much to his relief, and surprise, there were no burglars; instead he found Bill and Amanda, holed up behind mountains of belongings
This is the end
Beautiful friend
This is the end
My only friend, the end
Of our elaborate plans, the end
Of everything that stands, the end
No safety or surprise, the end
I'll never look into your eyes...again
Can you picture what will be
So limitless and free
Desperately in need...of some...stranger's hand
In a...desperate land
Lost in a Roman...wilderness of pain
And all the children are insane
All the children are insane
Waiting for the summer rain, yeah
There's danger on the edge of town
Ride the King's highway, baby
Weird scenes inside the gold mine
Ride the highway west, baby
Ride the snake, ride the snake
To the la
It's late. Let me say this:
Writing is really hard sometimes.
I've been doing lots of stuff, lots of stuff has been happening, but I still can't seem to get anything to come from my mind and come to rest neatly and succinctly on the page.
Also I'm thirsty.
Work is over.
Jolly nice.
I am the lamentably lazy lord of lethargic leisure.
That was a struggle.
There is space in my home so there is space in my mind, my body and my soul. My world is open.
Feng Shui is bullshit, There is no unified theory of making your surrounds make you feel better, but there is a definite payoff for shifting and adjusting until your chakras align.
I am an ethereal, invincible, elastic, extraexistential being...
...And it is all thanks to my new hammock.