Graverobber, Prostitute, Junkie & Thief
GRAVEROBBER, PROSTITUTE, JUNKIE & THIEF
(-for Lily, with Love)
“I Only Rob the Dead”,
“I just break into their houses
while they’re being buried,
They don’t care, they’re dead.
I only take what I can carry
in my hands,
or fit into my bag,
cash, CDs, jewels…
little things like that,
Once I stopped to feed the deceased’s
poor forgotten cat.
Poor old thing was hungry, anyway,
the lawyers or the government or
Whoever’s in the Will will get
Every damned thing Else.
the furniture and cars.
They get Everything
I have Nothing.
My life is so damned hard,
Who cares if I use
some dead guys credit card?
Why shouldn’t I take
what I can carry in my hands?
The dead don’t need it anymore
I’m sure they’d understand..”
At this point, my new found friend,
(a young girl who laughs quite carelessly
when she calls herself a thief,
And in darker, desperate moments
has been known to walk the streets),
stops talking, and looks up at me,
with the ancient weariness of her profession
writ sad and large in her golden flecked,
three thousand year old eyes,
through which drift dreams of pyramids,
beneath Egyptian skies.
No book review this week kiddies as the Reverend is feeling seedy after seeing
the fabulous Wendy Seary & Loves-E-Blur do a one off gig to celebrate her birthday (29th wasn’t it dear?) at the Pineapple Hotel. And what a good gig it was, so good to hear Wend & the boys again. After a decent interval to collect prezzies and good wishes from we her fawning minions, Wendy returned later in the evening to do vocals with the Pineapples from the Dawn of Time before the select crowd. Gosh, the sonic vibrations took me tunneling right back in time to the deepest dark swamp ages.(the eighties) I thought Loves-e-Blur particlarly hit a reasonate rumbly groove that night that set the soundproofed glass vibrating. But all things must pass and so come the Pumpkin Hour we parted our ways, promising to meet and do it again in another hundred years hence.
Check out Wendy, the Divine Diva of Sunny Sandgate singing at ;
We are not worthy.
Next week I’ll be reviewing bizzarro futuristic graphic novel TRANSMETROPOLITAN so stay tuned.
The Reverend Hellfire is a practising Performance Poet, an Ordained Minister of the Church of Spiritual Humanists and a lazy bastard to boot.