Hellfire

July 15, 2022

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• HellfireListen Read

  There’s always something
  An odd twitch, hearing loss,
  A ringing noise, new flesh,
  A new bump, A weightlessness, A headache, A sore limb,
  An Itchy Gash, A Mirage,
  A Tumor, A scare
  And when one is fixed, another breaks When some destroyed, more await When it is Time, no one comes
  When you have time, it is up
  And even from without
  There is nothing you will find
  Running at full speed
  Without a dent - factory shine
  Always slightly out of time
  Always Always dust
  Always Always Always
  No such thing as luck
  Only chance and rot
  Inevitable loss
  Running low
  Almost empty
  Almost always gone
  Going going gone
  Each day quicker
  Each day gone lost
  The more, the less
  The less useless
  That’s that, no more
  Meet me at the door
  It’s open, come in
  Wash away the sin
  No more lazy sloth
  This sad pig has had enough
  No nail grows yet
  All toes now green
  Both eyes blank screens
  Eyeballs opaque
  Robot ear gone
  Ringing silence
  Back again mate
  A tick tick, A shiver
  A lick lips, A stiffness
  A click limb, A limp useless
  Prick gone no need
  When stiff useless, when needed limp
  Rid me of the hideous thing
  Gets it right in the classroom
  But wrong in the examination hall What use is that? damn it all Useless thing
  All machines designed after it
  All worse, none better
  I.e. all shit
  None work forever
  None work a minute
  Worse with every use
  Always chasing the first
  Always chasing the free
  Always chasing decency
  Never adequate enough
  Enough, enough, come in, come in Thank you

• Sugar/TzuWatch Listen Read

  Posterity will show me to be
  The greatest the world has ever seen, a genius among nonentities

  The Leadweight clash of the century,
  February 31st, 2163
  I was there, but could not see
  Being a 3 foot 3 superfluous freak
  Blinded by necks, upper backs and knees
  Folded fat, flapped by the breeze

  Sun Sugar, in the red trunks
  Sun Tzu, in the blue

  Both ran to the centre of the ring
  While the rhinestone suit continued to sing

  Sun Sugar, a simple man, cut from coarse cloth
  Sun Tzu, seeking strength from a snakeskin broth

  “Weighing in at
  Six hundred pounds”

  I ran through legs to the front of the crowd
  Sun Sugar came over in-between rounds

  Sun Sugar came over shook my fucking hand
  He turned away, I shot him in the back
  Sun Tzu raised his arms

  Crowned champ while Sugar bled on
  No doctor on the scene - the audience won

  Eventually found, sentenced to life
  Spent reading the letters of a million wives
  Sun Sugar wouldn’t be shit without me
  The youngest executioner in tabloid memory

• Eat Men EatWatch Listen Read

  It's always here
  Drying your clothes in the sun
  Alone, slowly burning
  Away
  I'm so thirsty I might die
  Thirty miles from the mines
  “Have you seen the drunken Captain singing?
  What d'you want to know?”
  “One more night in Absalom,
  Help yourselves men
  To Whiskey, onions and chilli
  Eat Men Eat!”
  Company A wake with a start
  Stomachs open, burning hearts
  With drills and lines this red liquid mined
  Captain bottles Rennie's red wine
  “Don't touch Rio Tinto's bottom line”
  Three long nights in those pits they called Hell
  Captain's food got me sick and oh so sleepy
  “I love you but I can feel my chest bubbling!”
  Oh so heavy and then
  Oh so light, almost something
  “And as they ran arm in arm from the burning crater Captain's screams echoed:”
  “You fucking faggots ain't seen the last of me yet
  I'll have the last laugh you cunts soon you'll see
  Each day you wake and each night you sleep
  I'll be camped in your chests
  Burning!”
  But we kept on running, turned our backs on old Hell,
  With wine in our hearts, hailed as saviours of Old -

• Welcome to HellWatch Listen Read

  Listen!
  The sweet peals of moonlight-induced lovemaking on the streets tonight
  Listen! The soft purr of motorbikes
  Ready to strike up the night alight
  So don’t tell me of your troubles, your emotional grief
  Enjoy the sights this is shore leave
  Don’t talk of true love, unscrew your frown
  Enjoy the entertainments of nighttime town
  Experience the red rooms, the green tables, the souvenirs
  Make memories, haunting or fabled
  The gallant mist of red blooded chivalry
  Instilled in basic training
  By standing in line today
  You secure a place among the Saints
  Go get them son
  Now your life begins
  To die for your country does not win a war
  To kill for your country is what wins a war
  Don’t tell your name, don’t ask for hers
  In this land of oysters, you are the world
  The painless, plainness of military life resumes Tomorrow night
  If not for you it would’ve been cholera, malaria or some eastern disease
  Forget about it, son - a slap’s all you need
  We did it all we seen it all and worse much worse, son
  The massacres of ages - too many to recall
  Limbs rendered birds by the speed they flew off
  A soup nothingness that once was your best friend
  Motherless children and Temptress widows
  The Wild, The Useless, The Dead, The Untameable
  Snivelling fuck, staining this street
  Lucky I don’t shoot you on the spot
  bullets were made for men like you
  The impotent idiots god forgot
  Tonight you decide which corner takes residence
  Which room looms forever in your mind
  But now you’re on your own, we don’t need men like you
  Private Tristan Bongo - hereby discharged!

• StillListen Read

  I waited so long

  That only a fool would try

  And stay

  If not for you

  If not for only you
  I feel sunk in a way

  You've been sulking all day
 Our ships been sunk in the bay
 But I can still find enough
 Because
  I could have been
 Bald with a baby
 A Bald Eagle baby
  You've got me always wondering why
 I'm worn out
  And if I ever needed love 
 It's now

  Just take me!
  Thinking stupid -

  I know it's late but please stay up
 And talk to me

  Accept some kind of old defeat 

  I know a song

  That gives

  Everything that you need
  I went to see him 

  At the "Obviously Visiting" Arena
 You were a mile away

  But doing so good

• Half TimeListen Read

  That was "8 Weeks in May" by the Orange Tree Boys
  Keep that dial locked to 66.6 Hellfire
  With yours truly, Radio Rahim
  Next up, a song like no other
  Listen to this!

• The Race is About to BeginListen Read

  Idiots are infinite, thinking men numbered Don’t kid yourself - this isn’t news
  Let’s start with Tristan Bongo, alone at the race Conscription calling his name
  One more night of freedom
  The heiress high up atop the stands
  And the lines are open
  That’s Lucky Star, Eye Sore, Doctor Murphy, Sun Tzu, The Clap,
  Mr Winner, Spot, Wallace, Mrs Gonorrhoea, Perfect P, Deadman Walking and The Company Favourite.
  A son hands dad’s hard earned cash to the clerk And she laughs at the gall of the small guido lips: “Put it all on Spot, the kid’s already won”
  John-tiles smeared with last nights beer
  Reflect vomiting Chris who dreams his dream is near In the form of Mrs Gonorrhoea
  Reporter reporting the state of affairs
  Inwardly asks of his prime time hair
  Why it can’t quite rival the manes on these mares The smoothness can’t compare
  Gleaming appliances attract attention The raffle prizes too many to mention Displayed all over the stadium entrance
  Hypodermic needles, hidden under coat sleeves Of sweaty wise-guy money earning men
  In search of the horse to apprehend
  The race is about to begin The race is about to begin
  Blondie locked in 4 eyes arms Squirming like a dying fish That’s the last I can recall
  The race was ran
  Someone lost someone won
  I came and I stayed and the same ever since -
  Outside -
  The freaks of the wilderness, open in spring The time before time was the time to sing Unidentified song surges through the brush Transcription futile, let alone the rush
  You miss when hunched and scribbling notes Here no journalism is ever in vogue
  Despite the attempts of doctors and saints None have recorded its heavenly grace
  But I stayed, I stayed, I stayed
  That race was ran 30 years back And each day since the same -
  Peel back the witness of a million catastrophes To see the spotty remnants each has left
  I forget in which cups I’ve pissed
  From which I can still drink
  Tonight Its so cold my feet are shrinking Groping around for the sides of my boot It’s no night for the blind
  With all these sirens I envy the deaf mutes
  Some killer on the loose again Some idiot at large
  Some Chinese moose again An excuse for the sarge
  No sirens, all silent The log cabin’s silent No killer either
  No creaks in the floor
  Log cabin, what cabin?
  A shack’s all I have
  Yes my cubbyhole’s stuffed with skeletons But my neighbours is stuffed with anthrax
  Where does that leave us?
  I came 30 years back
  From Salafessien, via South Schlagenheim To Sunterun and Sunterime
  The late Sun Sugar’s home town
  Buried not far from here
  My only friend
  Neighbour, what neighbour? My shack is alone

  This pen, changing lives One line at a time
  Blindness? What blindness? Sweet blindness a little laughter a little silence A little magic a little kindness a little all over me.
  Yes me. The first, the last, the everything.
  No trace of anything
  No life no sin no fun no time no anyfuckingthing no one no yes no house
  no shack no a no b no c no etc no 1 no 2 no etc no school no life no work no time no book no art no point no truth no use no friend
  no know no knot no hole no birth no end no real no fake
  No king of this useless nameless non-land
  No end to this nothing nonsense non-song
  No day set for my saviours arrival, to carry me far
  Across green waters, above the sky or below the depths
  Among the white cloud or red steppe
  Or to fly forever in-between ends, or in-between in-betweens,
  Or in-between no-between, or no nothing no saviour no journey no end. 1000 years of no nothing hiding from nothing. No reason to hide sins. No reason not to sin. No reason to pretend. No reason to pretend
  there is not no reason.
  Oh yes
  Blondie ran on the track
  Four eyes got stuck in the rail
  The reporter was caught getting sweaty in the stable
  Blondie and brunettie and redheadie all already gone Yes gone never came never stayed
  Blondie gone. 4 Eyes gone. Guidos gone. Clerk gone. Chris gone.
  Tristan Bongo the man who never left. Tristan Bongo never left. Still here. I stayed.
  The clown can be a martyr The whore can be an angel The hack becomes a master The crass becomes divine The infinite, infinitesimal
  All sins irrepressible
  No use digging holes to hide
  The rupture comes and leaves no stone unturned So don’t wish for anything

• Dangerous LiaisonsListen Read

  As a farmhand I had
  No aversion to killing
  But to murder a man in cold blood Was something entirely different
  One dawn, one spring One man came to me Out of tire screech
  Of a black MG
  Dark clad, upright, emaciated, lips curved
  He said, “My friend, would you like to make some cash tonight?”
  “Some people really are awful”, he said
  “This you can’t deny
  “Some people are as useless as lids on a fish’s eyes”
  No pistols, no blades - strangulation was how it had to be He could depend on the strength of a man of manual labour The perfect idiot for his need
  Persuasion-wise he had a real gift Temptation had me by the balls He sold me a dream and I fell in For no reason except I’m a fool
  To sign away eternity with one stroke
  A blind greedy hoax, the joke of all jokes
  I’ll tell you for free, it wasn’t like a pigs squeal
  Job done
  No word From any one
  I scoured the pool halls, the strip bars, the casinos
  No man skinny enough to vaguely resemble my friend who said,
  “We’ll meet at The Queen at 8
  10 grand in your pocket, don’t be late” No sign of the black clad gang man
  Front page news, “random killing - No gang affiliation, no mob justice - Murder”
  To see the bruised neck I wrecked, immortalised in print
  A Circle opened from the black and white picture and my search for that face was complete
  He climbed out the page and shed his skin, revealing the red king This was no mafioso, this was Satan himself
  True evil - the stench of an unknowable wealth
  “You’re coming with me son”, the cries, anguish, torment
  The shame, pain, heartache, suffering, futile regret

• The DefenceListen Read

  When Crowds swarm out doorways And The street-lamps are lit
  One of my disciples
  Begins his wandering
  In alleys and Main streets He searches for men
  The virile, pathetic and lame
  Leading them in
  To our establishment He starts to cry Every night
  “Prostrate, supine Well groomed - divine! Whatever you like Please sir, tonight”
  A brothel is a business no different than a bank As safe and as formal and sanitary
  My girls all destined for hell
  Or so says our priest
  But find me a Christian
  Who spends as much time on their knees!
  Closer to god
  They honour his glory In the best way Everyday
  Without my aid they’d be in chains
  Or disembowelled in a backstreet lane I’ll stop selling when you stop buying ‘Till the end of time you will hear the cry
  “Prostrate, supine Well groomed - divine! Whatever you like Follow me tonight”

• 27 QuestionsListen Read

  When lost in wild rain there is nothing you can do When lost in city rain there is something you can do Take refuge wherever’s marked admission free
  As we did one night in late ’63
  I’d never seen the man on the poster before
  But my friend said he was a big star before the war
  The boy by the door, louder than a bomb
  All the way down the street you heard his song
  “Roll up, roll up - tonight is the night Freddie Frost gives his last will live on stage Roll up, roll up for the show of a lifetime Doors open at quarter to eight”
  Sat in upholstery that was once brilliant,
  We picked its loose stuffing and looked around
  There were duchesses and dukes, and beggars and pimps All sat side by side to watch this last grasp at life
  The grand centrepiece was a gold-green sarcophagus
  Flanked either side by oil-painted pictures of the man
  First of all a film to explain his life-long dream
  Afterwards music started, and a young girl ran on with operatic screams
  Two hours went by and his 65 daughters
  Who told, through opera, of his life’s importance
  They sang of his exploits all over the earth
  His likes and dislikes, his undoubtable worth
  After a last crescendo where they all cried as one
  They hurried quickly off but the music played on
  From within the sarcophagus rose a spotlit weathered hand Mr Frost emerged and to the racing beat he danced
  With the vital energy of a newborn Chimp He spun and he spun and spun and spun
  Hopelessly wrinkled and by no means thin
  He soon became dizzy, regained his composure and started to sing...
  “Thank you for listening
  I won’t be too long
  Just twenty seven questions to finish this song...
  Does there exist a marriage that can survive castration?
  A future where a man can go a year without hydration?
  Is grass ever greener?
  Is the will really free?
  Is it only black you see when you join the deceased?
  Will I forever be a mediocrity? A hideous glut with trembling knees? In death will I see the girls of daydreams?
  Intangibly dressed, invisibly seamed?
  Will the sun burn out?
  Will my corpse grow a beard?
  Will my house be kept?
  And my sperm be reared?
  (My last shot at the big time posthumous paste will it find a home or go to waste?)
  In heaven do the morals of the earth still stand? Or can I bridge the gap twixt beast and man?
  Is there such a thing as a universal truth? Any lost secret to eternal youth?
  Do nuns fornicate?
  And scientists pray?
  Is a sin committed every moment of every day?
  That’s not quite 27
  But my chest feels awful tight
  So thank you for listening
  Good night, good night, good night”
  Freddie Frost blew up to the size of a hot air balloon Red as all hellfire and loud as Satan’s siren
  And he wheezed and moaned in pain as he rose But we all just laughed at the sad old oaf
  And laughed all the way home