The Prince of Puppets.

It was me

I cannot tell a fib

A malevolent butterfly

Flaps her wings in the primal forest

And a fight breaks out

Probably in Norwich

It’s all my fault that the sea’s gone saltless

It’s all my fault the UK’s gone bust
It’s all my doing
The San Andrea’s faultiness
It’s because of me that the world’s unjust

I shoulder the blame for chaos on the railway

I am culpable felonious and guilty as charged
MaydayMayday!
I’ve got my name in the bad books baby
It says ‘responsibility is something he will shirk’
And signed by the head ‘this boy will never work’
So the game is up
I’m a villain at large
My fingers are in the till
It’s all my fault
The world has turned so ill
Because of me, self, I!
I’m such a twottish dolt
I am that foolish madmam butterfly
Nail me with formaldehyde!
I deserve to flutter my last and die

‘cos everything’s connected

A diamond, a radish, your nipples, the cat
It’s all one my Lord, the Prince of Homburg said
And don’t the butterflies know it?
Along with the marionettes
For if you pull the string on a puppet
A desire or a pleasure or a thirst or a fear
Or a lust is aroused in me
That’s why I’m on fire
When your perfume lifts up on the breeze
And I burn like the leaves on a frozen tree.

25/02/2012

Artwork, phlegm. Photo, Jon T. Grateful thanks.