Metropolis - Reborn

I was reading the thoughts of a dead man howling at the moon
taking in the blasted landscape of his deteriorating mind
filled with Blake inspired imagery
of biblical distortions...
and wide open spaces of derelict foundations
mismatched quotations written in scrawls
scratched with a syringe-needle on open weeping sores
a world of detracted madness and bat-winged angels talon-fisted threatening
sacramental offerings to an idol heaped on the detritus that was humanity's waste
dragging their sorry stories through streets
filled with more madness still
seeking the eternal fixation with heroin certainty
soaking up the darkness that was the mantle of their existence
pupils dilated, fixated
swollen tongues and the silhouette of ruined tenements in their sorry, shrivelled souls
balloon fantasies floating across the desolation and roof tops:
a city-scape of broken teeth and rotting lives
of empty hallways filled with grunts and the foetid breath of johns
hitting the mark with sacred street whores
and crooked cops marking time with a tattoo of night sticks on broken skulls
the echoes of their cries - a symphony of the streets
where lightening quick pimps strike with cobra precision
marking their territory with the weeping madonna tears of their whores
of lights and traffic wrecks and blood stained outlines
that measure out the portion of their lives
and the timeless motions of existing in this submarine layer
coating everything with its stink and corruption
more lost souls petitioning for the right to merely survive
leaving behind fire-ball trails
but what of it!
what price is sufficient to pay the piper even once?
as a flight of fallen angels marked by the contrails across the severed lives
left in their wake fall oblivious of the oblivion they seek
ah! such a fucking joke...
archangels filled with ambivalence
suspended over the abyss
swords flaming and gathering storms amid the clamour
seeking with terrible countenance and starry glamours
spells cast and glory to the highest - and yet so afraid
what will you make of my offering then?
what figure of speech tells you of this kingdom coming
will you fall to your knees
with offerings of salutations and sacrifice?
or bear your first born upon isaac's blade?
climb jacob's ladder and wrestle the crown
from a beleaguered deity surrounded by empty congregations!
I can see more than you credit me for
for I see you for what you are
and in all your amphetamine glory and heroin syringed catatonia
I bought you body and soul
then cremated myself on the images you proffered
I sold out my integrity for a little of your salvation
then injected it into the crevices between my time and conscience
I asked for your benediction and wept oceans before your open thighs
begged for deliverance through the orgasm that swept me into the void
I left my incarcerated remains as homage to your lost cause
and sat at your feet in awe at your last supper
your scent invades my nights and I stay hard with memory of it
but fuck it all ! it's only nickels for dimes in the end...
so who then will keep vigil over all this?
hooded angels with broken wings singing their chorus lament?
walking the city holding their sacraments
silhouetted against the crime-pitted skyline
a place...
where even the junkies and street whores avoid
walking to their own pulsated rhythm
seeking solace in the reflections
from the sorrow pooling at their crucified feet...
maybe tomorrow will bring redemption
or condemnation...
where I caught glimpses of a man in mirrors a-plenty
whose words spoke havoc that split souls into shards of smoke
his touch was pandemic his disease so profound
women worshipped at his loins
seeking absolution for their shortcomings
yet, you may ask me a question and if I answer with prayer
for my cock is my conscience without whose benediction I would surely fade away...
a night and a thousands weary miles on in the blink of an eye
another town gone...
disappeared into the murky melange of tarmac and white-line fever
between the creaking and cracking of vinyl seats in the semi darkness
lit dimly by one fifteen watt bulb and in shadows defined
and the soft susurrus of pages turning like wind on dunes
listening to the stillness of life between heartbeats
a human trait on a road well travelled and a bus ride through eternity
to such a place of dulcet strains and lyrics defined by rote
and empty landscapes
stretching onwards and outwards...
yet I still don't remember slipping into this life with its subliminal imagery
and unsettled moments while scouring the horoscopes
looking for some meaning and truth...
I don't remember losing faith and drifting off into other dreams
not of my making...
all simply loose pages of an incomplete story I had no part in
I don't remember any of these vague outlines in the dark
of anarchists rising out of their skulls
as monarchists scream obscenities at the world
and fascists drink power from hydrogen fuelled dreams
still; iscariot is betrayed by the one whom he thought loved him
crucified upon a lightening rod rivets through both eyes
once again justice for all is denied
and violence becomes the religion of the faithless
pagans place their bets on the coming millennium spent
acid rain eating into their wasted flesh
while giving thanks the computer almighty for our salvation
then watching armies mobilise to save the old kingdom of sorrows
the light from a distant time finally extinguished
in a fury of denial and absolutions...
go forth little children for who is your messiah now?
in this lost paradise now filled with emptiness
where a throne is left deserted and wanting
and a universe of dreaming smashes into empty minds
exploding in a million shards of broken promises and desires
another gap in you memory and suddenly
a world is lost
as those in despair grab uselessly at symbols no one understands anymore
that no one believes you can't turn on
symbolism and fuzzy logic now the new religion
wrapped in rhetoric and false promises
so no one can see the scars left by the screams of the dead and dying
and those conjurers of shadow-play who ply their wares
ducking and weaving; hands a-blur...
deciphering sigils and covenants of lost causes by scrying for signs
of neon ambivalence that linger harshly in the eye’s after glare
an aftershock of lives put to the fiery sword of indifference
mewling; cowering figures silhouetted and mocked by the life
that rejected them and still fail to make the six o’clock news
or even rate a fifth column in the overworked; underscored tabloids
the new bible and prophecy declared unto all and sundry
the truth sanctified; sterilised and left hung out to dry
like so many faceless ghost filleted and gutted
echoes rebounding from the righteous shields carried by those dark knights
of the fourth estate
whose suicide pens stay poised above the bleeding hearts and minds
of those whose throats are bared for the first killing stroke
yet still there is no guilt or blame admitted; as the bloody blade descends
in our hands with such lordly vengeance
the televangelists cry poor and suffer in luxury
bleeding the lamb dry and hanging it’s moth-eaten pelt about their shoulders
crucifying their true beliefs for alms and arms
weapons of mass deduction for sake of tax relief
and congregations made up of the middle class
because they are so easily duped and gullible
their jewel-encrusted bibles in hand waiting for a deliverance unfulfilled
because the god they worship is just a mask with no substance
a master race of doughy; obsessive creatures with blind eyes and no souls
taking their fill and much more at the holy font
leaving the weak and dispossessed to die of thirst
unnatural attrition accorded to the blessed
while the meek perish in the overload
such is the nature of this beast: moloch!
its' cold, calculating and pellucid, fiery eyes comsuming all they see
an anti-saviour dressed in a mantle of smoke and flame
all powerful, all knowing - seeing all that lies within the darkest heart
and what puerile insignificance it is after all!
the ultimate sacrifice and jape made by the lunatics
now in control of the asylum
the pack rape of humanity
sanctioned by those who fill up the cemeteries with the same bodies
over and over again and left with their sphinx smiles
painted on their empty faces
an army of freaks and empty masks
blood-stained and filled with tired, over worn-out regrets
trotted out by the doe-eyed whores with childish hips
smoking their last joint watching the breeze take away their last hope
as they once more curl up in an amphetamine cocoon
rusty needles and blow jobs bearing witness to a blind god
impervious and steely-breathed
listening to the terror and madness behind paper thin walls
where incest and bestiality keep company
a paradoxical heaven amid a hell-spawned epiphany of drug-fuelled bodies
weeping cocaine dreams soaked with alcoholic enterprise
their limp cocks and empty ball-sacs the denomination paid with in kind
in dead streets of smoke fumes and angel dust
while all across the muted death-scape between the layers of filth
echoing down hallways and across the tombstones
of those lucky enough to escape this festering realm of domination and guile
where beneath bridges and subway turnstiles the crack-heads mill
with the agonies of the christ
gibbering in street-cred and foreign tongues of fiery grace
the new epistle according to the hood
written in graffiti urban scrawl
and scratched into the subconscious of the just
across church doors with needles dipped in blood
as the junkies and whores consult the sibyl hoping for release
knowing only to well that the only release is the orgasm
a gulf between sex paid for and death uncalled for
where no task is too small or degrading to perform
on skinned knees or jammed on all fours between the bucket seats
of a burnt out wreck so the gang-bangers can take their sport
singing praises to the great god of chaos that spawned them
smoking and poking nicotine-stained fingers into bloody pools
while the gays play hide and seek with the law and each other
in public displays of lewd indulgences
sucking and fucking each other in a diseased circle of indifference
still...
if they scatter and spill their seed with such abandon, who is to care!
the two dollar rent-boys looking for escape with stars still in their eyes?
no amount of conjuring could make any of this disappear
not the bikers who congregate on their harley pulpits of fire and smoke
not the slack-jawed wino's paying benediction to the garbage
where they sleep and puke not caring a wit either way
ignoring the smoke-haloed angels dressed in their armani suits and cut-throat eyes
collecting their cut from the children selling their bodies for drugs
not knowing how many abuses had been visited upon them
like the ten plagues of pharaoh
and if it wasn't for the heart-pulse music from the clubs
filled with so much ice and madness
what hope would be left?
not knowing when the next fix would come for one
or a hero to take them away from all the insanity they unknowingly sought
cowering among the empty cigarette packs and broken bottles of the bus shelters
and street lights shining weakly down avenues of darkness
and boarded up shopfronts
where scattered newspapers blow wilfully about – yesterday’s news
gone cold like the bodies in the morgue
and across this nascent city of disease and culture
the vultures fly ever present
their zen-atrophied ideologies stripped naked and bare
casting bomb-cratered shadows over rain-slick pavements
outside railway stations deserted and forlorn
as gasoline fumed snow-flakes filter through the grimy layers
and lie dormant amid the gutters choked with debris and filth
there is very much in this world to be wary of
strangers with knife blade eyes and silver bullet words
spilling from blackened tongues speaking in hieroglyphics
spurring madness and destruction from their hollow-point minds
watching and waiting keeping their own counsel to confuse
and seed discontent and even more strange beckonings
that wait until the world sleeps then unleash their messianic madness
on wasted minds eager to be corrupted
yes... this world is a place to be wary of
inside this subway chapel...
an underground homage to the god of sewers
where the destitute and desparate congregate among shadows and sorrows
the shit of humanity smeared upon its' walls and pillars
a graffiti christ laying benediction upon heads bowed by circumstance
with arms tracked in needle-point: a tapestry of city-life
that sucks vitality leaving vacant lots that were once lives
children of a revolution that forgot it's goal
with left-over gobs of heartache bleeding out
and still they flock milling in darkness and despair
a world of timebombs ticking away futility and madness
beckoning ever downwards to oblivion
blessed oblivion...
bright lights and alleys of darkest despair
a cacophony of carnival celebrations and harlequin smiles of the predator
prowling the wicked, carmine streets of desire
looking in every crevice hiding the dulled eyes of the damned
and forgotten; emaciated...
fornicated and abused with gay abandon
bobbing heads grasped in iron grips
forced down on skinned knees on callous streets of fire
while eyes are screwed tight and minds in turmoil
filled with self loathing as another trick turned
and demonic laughter fills the necrotic night
with its insanity and vicious, empty promises
paid for in blood and tears as creatures stalk the shadows
and are devoured with such satanic passion
tattered remains left as offerings on sacrificial altars
a pageantry of madness that twirls and whirls
spinning in infinite cycles of a lunar night
filled with bright lights and hopeless despair
unfulfilled desire; insatiable lust and death...
and still the visionaries congregate espousing their wit and wiles
with bright baubles of plastic and glass
to dazzle those come before them: rubes with no purpose or idea
still the soup kitchens do a roaring trade
feeding the down-trodden and destitute
who leave their chop marks as a litany of crimes against them
nailed like forgotten crucifixes on tenement walls
as the ash and silt pile up against the curbs
in ever growing abundance
outside strip joints with their dull-eyed pole dancers
moving in mechanical concert to the muzak
mesmerising the slack-jawed drunks
caught ogling at their silicone breasts and silicone minds
stuffing their heterosexual-dollars into garter belts
bought and paid for with the money meant to feed their starving broods
oblivion awaiting those caught under the hunters-moon
eyes staring as if caught in the headlights of an oncoming behemoth
their imaginations dried and shrivelled up
like the cocks they piss out of
and lives a sorry testament to the misery they spread with such enthusiasm
while keeping up with the latest in advertisements and hype
craving the good life with all the evil they possess
hating and cursing all around them in spite of everything
where they puke into filthy toilet bowls
all the malice they have stored up inside them
a harlequin madness of pictorial display
where case in point is the norm
and therapy a rite of passage
as they tear apart with bloody fingers their pathetic lives
a visceral reminder of the hopelessness of the hopeless
pilgrims in search of validation for their insanity and pain
trapped inside decaying bodies and hateful reminders
of lost opportunities and youth
a juxtaposition of opposing forces equal to all and nothing
with nothing to give or take back
words of open sores spewing forth in a torrent of prophetical ranting and ravings
the chosen few who in the depths of their insanity are sane
and the rest of humanity become an endless production line
of art deco over indulgences
who reject with shame the true meaning and lose themselves to it
naked and hurting with souls festering and lost
ghostly remains like blighted shadows
coursing through the open veins of this city
corrupting and desecrating those sacred places we worship in our darkest hours
and like the thousand year reich - bound to failure with such a heavy cost
what will become of the dispossessed once they are exonerated and exorcised?
what madness prevails in these un-enlightened times?
when the light of the world is extinguished
in a jihad of quasi-religious homophobic mania
the itinerants and faithful still gather under false prophets
listening to the false hope on their breath and the lies
as they come tripping off their lizard tongues
the absolute incarnate
personified and multiplied in mushroom clouds of indifference
and platitudes of equal disproportions
lying in wait with a predator’s scowl for the feast to begin
cannibalising body parts to create the ultimate golem:
a monument to the madness engulfing this broken world
of empty tenements standing like shadowy tombstones in a graveyard city
its’ streets filled with the white zombie noise of happenstance
and crack pipe amulets wrapped inside the shrouds of the walking dead
such ambiguity and denial extreme as the echoes rebound on and on
bouncing off graffiti tattooed walls crumbling from the weight of sins
heaped carelessly on them
a bleak world of fog and pain littered with discarded emotions and memories
in case they may be infectious
there are no angels of mercy here in the lunatic ward
merely crash victims left to die that no one remembers anyway
this disposable society with its throw away mentality
that includes those no longer considered valuable
or able to function anymore
a junkyard of humanity that stretches from the cradle to the grave
and beyond…
and the continuous manipulations goes on and on
a self perpetuating insanity that seeps into everything thought
and action; subliminal and insidious
crossing all boundaries; colour and creed like malignant airwaves
a mass hallucinatory mind fuck perpetuated by those in control of the world
a corporate dysfunctional plan designed to bleed the most profit
from a city-corpse with nothing more to give
except to spew forth an accumulated river of human waste
a sewer of remains and lost ambitions
swept away in a torrent of back wash and sorrow
forever bereft of any hope
and the monuments of folly built in honour of these atrophied moments
frozen in time to look back in awe
tinctured memories and sculptured idiosyncrasies that enamour us
in moments of liquored despair  when we are too fucked up to understand
that the reality of all this solipsistic self indulgence
is mirrored in the widespread pandemic bullshit fed to us everyday
from eyes in the sky and other secret places that monitor our every move
from down town to mid town to up town we all go down on our knees
at some stage to get what we want from those who hold it over us
and still the great whore of babylon smiles her beatific smile
her open mouth and thighs the absolute benediction to a million waiting cocks
and we condemn the drug pushers and child pornographers and the whores
who peddle their wares with same ferocious political correctness as we condemn
the film makers  who portray them in our daily servings of morning news and breakfast
across this desolate wasteland of human misery and vice
come the bible bashers and new age rhetoricians crystal gazing
and shouting their portents of doom and destruction
as armageddon beckons to us all with such passion that we cannot resist
a cataclysmic car crash of episodes where we cannot tear our eyes away
from all the twisted broken bodies
reflections of our own failures and missed opportunities
yet secretly glad we are not among those rotting carcasses
as idly we pass the time picking away at the scabs of those lost visions
and missing the point entirely
still dancing to a tarantella madness in a parade of freakish unearthly delights
filled with ramifications and haunting lullabies in a life not of our own choosing
yet tailor made to fit us because we didn’t know any better
and as serial offenders repeating the same mistakes over and over again
generation after generation ad infinitum
the abusers and rapists and sodomites all hanging from the same gibbet
built to salve the gestalt conscience of a sick and diseased society
where only the absolute wealthy can afford the simple life
the rest condemned to a lifetime of hardship and unrelenting heartache
burying past mistakes only to have them rise up from their graves
to linger unwanted on the doorsteps of empty houses and tenement blocks
is this the true nature of this city of babel?
where the glass towers that reach ever upwards towards a polluted sky
filled with acid rain and smog
and as far as the eye can see these elysian fields of concrete and steel
more offensive to the eye than any pornographic indulgences
what more is there beyond the pathetic lies we tell ourselves
cowering  in the dark to protect ourselves from ourselves
while this thin veneer of civilization only separates us
from the beast by a single genome
some comfort perhaps when the time has come
and the reaper calls…
the fool will flourish among a crowd of fools
the ill and desperate falling beneath their coloured jack-boots
stamped ever more into the ground with malice and indifference
so what truth lies hidden in the sightless eyes of ignorance
whose meaningless existence is sanctified in the senseless rituals
and rites of the damned
heads bowed
weeping...
beating chests expressing profound sorrow for doing nothing at all
while the ritual defiling of innocents on blackened altars continues
in an orgy of lust beneath the benign robes
of pomp and circumstance
where are those who weep for such blasphemy and abuse of trust!
do they sleep in dreams of the righteous
filled with the indignation of the just
and accused... alike!
and when will the broken procession of those
defiled and cast aside be finally redeemed and forgiven
instead of being paid off with thirty pieces of silver
that assuage conscience and justifies such acts of heartless exploitation
ignorance beyond comprehnsion while wearing a crown of thorns...
then there are moments that quietly fester then seep through
the unconscious layers of each waking thought filled with dark images of
other things...
surging in mixed emotions of eclectic guilt and desires
forbidden...
released in a torrent of emotion to become quiescent
until the next moment of cyber sex...
disconnected passion caught breathless between the projected images
of cold passionless need and unfulfilled release
spilt seed leaving emptiness within and nothing resolved
no commitment made except by rote
and played over and over again in monotonous repetition
that becomes even more tedious
until the next time...
when the night becomes breathless and wanting
and darker passions take control all over again...
so many sad, sad people
a tattered parade of broken dreams and lives
emptying into a bottomless void in the world
of endless misery timeless agony
mindless violence relentless inhumanity...
fully documented in trials of blood and fire
as the rest of the world watches on desensitised and inured to it all
reading about it in the papers seeing it in the streets
where loneliness and wretchedness abides
as the sad and forgotten stare dull-eyed strung out on tainted dope
from tainted needles filled with empty souls devoid of hope
just an endless agony waiting for the next fix
oh! so many sad, sad people...
a well of unimaginable silence extending from heart to soul
encompassing a universe of self-doubt and delusion
where even regret is lost among the distant echoes
and still there is no respite
not any more... these are your highway of dreams
and my legacy to you... all