Hell Fruit
If you think that I'm the reject, then I'll thrash you till you're blue
I'll twist your arms like pretzels and curse upon your shoes!
I'll stuff you in a taxicab and call you by rude names
I'll slap your mum and kick your bum and drown you in the Thames!
I'll steal your new oesophagus and hurl it in the flames
When you get to old Algiers, you can wait for me all day
I'll sit in Ahmed's parlour and breathe the poppy's haze
Till I'm full of influenza and my heat is all athrob
I'll eat my fill and pop a pill until my uncle's Bob
And my auntie is an African with a busy job
Though they tell me I'm half crazy, still the other third is fine
And even if it isn't I just wrap it up in twine
I'll never let it see the light of incandescent day
Or the luminscent output of a heap of new-mown hay
I'll keep it in the cloisters till there's no time left to pray
When I find myself in Punjab, I really feel at home
Traversing the subcontinent with backpack and a comb
Fishin' deep inside of it, I find a Mandarin orange
Evoking thoughts of times long past
And ribald thoughts of dinners past
In the Valley of Bamyan the eternal Budha sits
While his jaundiced devotees induce their pantheistic fits
And your mutilated memories have lost their fleshly hue
I visited it last back in November '62
surveying the valley from the Budha's head, stoned on mahjoun.
Banished from the gates of the heaven
standing at the gates of hell
Mystic yo-yo, cream from Devon
Could not from Bombay further be
If you searched eternally
Into dark infinity
Contributors: | The Agent Apsley, Stacy, P, TG, Davy, Joan, Nader, nomi, Barry, JH. |
Poem finished: | 3rd January 1999. |