Warts & All

A deathly clown

In Punchestown

Tells of a troll who's pith and who's gall -

Made famous those people

Who knew all the repose of a steeple

Not the feeling I feel now, among you all



A steady melodious hand

May map the midlands

May guide ships and steady stars in shitty weather

But calm of a kind, blissful, blinded

Need not be reminder

When seen up close and not from afar through thick heather

And terror



Your hands aren't at all smooth

But rough, rude, tough and lude

As the base of an Eden quay bin

But I, I'm tied to silence

I cry love over violence

When you run them over my skin



Your eyebrows sit victim and fucked

And truck fate and bad luck

With the one you've got left not made of glass

My hands will forever quiver

When you cock that iris

And turn that sliver

With a look cooked over the world smolt in ash



The teeth don't shine, they protrude

You horse mouth squawks and exudes

Clairvoyant traps and hyperbolic bile

Yeah, my dull heart murmurs then swells, juicy and fat

As that of a vampire sewer rat

When you strike an awful pose, look at my closely -

And smile



Your legs are hairy, thin and harsh

They barely hold up in the marsh

Your morose torso is a rare, meandering mess

But my hands are not fatigued

But rather fast and thus intrigued

To get the warmed up and under your dress



Your arse is flat as an unmarked slab

It belongs to a passing pot bellied fag

From some small useless suburb of Bristol I'll never visit

What can I say?

It runs be around until I'm back where I was bound

When I stole that Volvo and burned down the school -

In Chapelizod



Your back is crooked as an oak

Your neck is fucked and stuffed up with smoke

Your lungs sick and darkened

Your ears pricked and harkened

To the cacophony

But as soon as I've exhaled and spoken

I'm on my way to being broken

As I'm breaking when you're sat quiet listening to me



Your feet are odd an alarming

It seems one a geese's

One a farmer's

Your ankles bloated as an old hag's bag as she falls

Yet I'm strangely drawn

You're my moonlight, you're my song

I love, my love, warts and all



I love the horns upon your head

Your cloven hooves and you're red

Hot poker and tail

You're always making some delicate medicinal finding

So, when I see you work your dark magic on the world

I try to remember the hooded forest girl

You once were, fair and unread, fair, a little wood, a little riding



I love the fire in your belly

Sometimes dank and often smelly

I love especially your cryptic, apocalyptic septic premonitions

That make a sound but never posh or arty farty

And when people tell me you were spoiled

I know they're just jealous because they've been soiled

By other people's expectations that will only manage to be done in bad conditions and and at parties



As the executioner, aloof

On a Sandymount slate roof

Is declaring death to all women who refuse to wear powder

But his bullshit falls only on fans of deaf ears

You're nearer than his beer

And even joke "they can't hear you in Artane

Shout a little louder"



But not even the captain of Spain

Or the ordained king of rain

Knows what it is to see you truly

And to dance with you on a pale balcony

Far from the rush of a ball

Shall we say I'm eternally spread across

Your daily bread and your midnight moss

I love you, my love, warts and all



Is Charlie Parker had lived

He have torn off the lid

That you keep on your sense of good taste