I Never Wanted to Die (Tombstone Blues)
You probably think I'm a flirt,
That I'm only after a bit of your skirt -
You're wrong about that - let me explain,
There was never much pleasure in my love affairs,
No, indeed, there was plenty of pain,
I'm only attracted to girls who hurt,
And they hurt me again and again!
So if you look in my eyes
You'll see an expression of deep surprise
That you haven't punished me yet,
I haven't walked home alone and upset,
I haven't even broken down and wept
In front of you because
You are too kind,
Too sensitive,
And perhaps a little bit blind!
How strange that I should find
Someone so sympathetic,
Perhaps you'll visit my grave
And put flowers there
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poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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A Sad, Old Fart
Somewhere, someplace, there must exist
Some sad, old fart who's never been kissed.
He dreams of all the chances he's missed
And those chances make a long, long list.
It's driving him right round the twist
So he wonders whether to slash his wrist.
They'd only fetch a psychiatrist
So he decides to go out and get pissed!
Down at the pub he meets a girl
And decides (at last!) to give it a whirl,
So he reaches down to pinch her bum
But she slaps his face for being so dumb!
In a fit of anger he starts a fight
Only to get thrown out in the night,
He wakes up sore and bruised in a ditch
And it's all because of that mean, young bitch!
'I've had enough! ' he says to himself,
'Forty odd years left on the shelf!
'It's enough to make a grown man weep
'So from this day I'm sticking to sheep! '
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poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Bukowski Blues
I live in a dirty, dingy house,
The haunt of the beetle, bedbug and mouse,
But I don't care at all about the flea and the louse
So long as I'm sipping the Famous Grouse!
A taste of that and I feel a lot better
Than the day I got that Dear John letter
And wished by the gods that I'd never met her!
Yes, when I drink whisky I feel a lot better.
I don't care about the mess on the floor
Or the piles of rubbish at the back door -
This place is a pig-sty, that's for sure,
Please pass me the bottle and I'll have some more!
It gives me a kick that chases my blues,
Ignites my humour and provokes my Muse,
It the one panacea a poet should choose
And I'm swigging it now 'cos I've nothing to lose!
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poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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A Poem of Tears in the Darkness
Now you've gone away all I can hear is the whispering of blood in my veins
And the loud clamour of tears in the darkness.
I used to be so afraid, so very afraid, that you'd reject my love,
Now I feel the nails pierce my hands and feet
While the soldiers are laughing below as they barter for my clothes.
Did I always know it would end in crucifixion?
I dared to love against the odds and the angry gods are punishing me for my blasphemy.
It's very hard to see things clearly now
And not to blame you for the hurt inside.
I love you so much still, my dear sweet enemy,
But really I should hate you and turn away.
There has been slaughter for less than this,
Blood spilt in anger that cries out from the ground.
How could I ever hate you?
The gods demand a sacrifice.
They are breaking my body like you broke my heart
And a voice proclaims 'You will never escape this sorrow! '
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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A Pagan Hymn (Farewell to Jesus)
Tombs of the dead and ancient graves!
Do you really believe that Jesus saves?
Flesh rotting away, bones turned to dust,
And what of the Saviour we all trust?
Ah yes, you say, the spirit lives,
And this is the promise Jesus gives,
We live forever by His grace,
One day we'll see Him face to face!
The maggots had a tasty meal
And what a good thing that we can't feel
Them eating our liver and our brain -
Will Jesus really come again?
To believe in Jesus is all very well
But I've got a surer sense of Hell,
I've lived there now for many years
And shed a lot of fruitless tears.
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poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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A Change of Fortune (from rags to riches)
A monster of depravity
Who never went to the lavatory
But got his trousers full of sh*t
And didn't care one little bit
Decided one day to come clean,
Admitting that it was obscene
To reek of excrement and p*ss.
He said, 'I can't go on like this,
It's driving folk right round the bend
And I haven't got a single friend!
I'm going to reform my life
And get a job and find a wife -
In a year or two you'll be surprised
I'm not the tramp whom you despised,
I'm sitting in my easy-chair
Well-dressed and very debonair,
The chap you thought was oh so smelly
Relaxing in front of his colour telly!
Surprising, isn't it? Most bizarre!
Here I sit smoking my cigar.
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poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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A Poem about Icons
It's fashionable to rubbish Freud -
If you mention his name people get annoyed,
Ego and id and the terms he employed
Are passe now, he's out of date,
He's suffering an icon's fate,
His reputation has been destroyed.
The same has happened to other men,
They get their glory days and then
It's time for people to bring them down,
The smile of Fortune has become a frown,
It's not that Life has changed the song
It's just that now their lyrics are wrong! !
I guess it's the same for everyone,
A newer star will eclipse their sun,
And though they seemed so hip and cool
You'll find that as a general rule
Their wisdom becomes a platitude
And all their subtleties seem crude.
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poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Having Sex in the Car
I like making love in my brand new car
(A breast in the hand's worth two in a bra!)
The girl in question's a bit of a b*tch
But she certainly knows how to scratch my itch! !
Yes, I like having sex in a country lane,
No neighbours to see you and loudly complain,
You sometimes get in an awkward position
But the main thing that matters is a good emission!
How would you like to go for a drive?
I'll meet you at the bar at half-past five,
You don't have to worry about the British weather,
I'm sure it won't spoil our time together!
Don't worry your head about condensation,
That's just an effect of our occupation,
It certainly keeps out the prying eyes
And you feel quite secure in your sweaty disguise!
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poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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A Flower For My Coffin
I do my best and try to amuse her
So she doesn't get bored with this sad old loser,
Yes, I try so hard to entertain
'Cos a smile on her face will drive away pain,
But I can tell quite quickly she's not impressed,
She's summed me up and I don't pass the test -
A sad old fool who's too fond of booze
And not the young lover that she would choose;
It's the same old story again and again,
The girls all laugh at the older men,
But my heart's still young and my soul's on fire
And if I denied it I would be a liar,
So I pour out my feelings with pen and ink
And I pour out the whisky and take another drink,
'Cos there's a God in Heaven who knows the truth,
You can still be a lover though you've lost your youth,
So listen to my words, my dear sweet love,
That are blessed and sanctioned by the Lord above,
My childhood's gone and my hopes depart,
All I am left with is a broken heart.
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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A Ballad of a Rock 'n Roll Dreamer
I always thought that Debbie Harry
Was the sort of girl I'd like to marry,
But she kept me Hanging on the Telephone
And now I spend my nights alone,
So I think I'll ring up Elkie Brooks
(Fantastic voice, amazing looks)
Together we'll drink Lilac Wine
And then I'll persuade her to be mine.
I'm just a guy with stars in his eyes
And dreams he'll never realize
Like a lot of other blokes I know
Who listen to too much radio.
Of course, I'd like to sleep with Madonna,
Provided, I guess, she'd do me the honour,
'Cos although she's just a Material Girl
She sets my emotions in a whirl,
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poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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