Burkshire Drive

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Poisoned nickers


And spineless monkeys


Drying on the rim of Tinpan Alley,


Where the saxophones wale


And a trombone screams


To the beat of a dying heart.


Puppets and whores


With shadows of giants


Dance like rotten figures


In the dark.


It’s some kind of mania, here,


In the evenings,


With this- Carnival of Thieves.


The train howls


As the wolf whistles


In the night of drunken despair.


Don’t let the old man fool you.


There is no safe house tonight


 on Burkshire Drive.


 

Created: Jul 21, 2012

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