Bastard Coffee Blues

Coffee talks. Talks about

The worst that can happen,

Even if it isn't likely to.

 

How many bad decisions are made each day

By bothered caffeinated hearts and minds?

Only my own greedy adrenalin is in love

With this bellicose bean that has to be flown in.

 

It's a bloody work drug!

 

Numbs my sense of peace, such that I have to fight for it!

But oh, that aroma... which rarely makes it to the palate.

 

Hot black manic soup

- make mine a weak one please -

Still keeps me coming back for more.

 

How do I fill the hole? Better to close it altogether

With prayer, meditation and fasting. High on life alone.

But isn't variety the spice, and spice the variety, of life?

Something's going to have to change, before I damage a relationship or two

This way.

 

Hot black manic soup,

Near-perfect enforcer of a joke work-ethic:

I denounce thee as a stealer of souls,

A spook seeking suckers to sap for the glory of the Industrial Revolution.

 

Dream on. This soul has flown further, faster, higher, brighter

Than the petty promises you peddle.

Almost allegorical antidote to alcohol,

Antithesis of aesthetic,

Medicine you ain't!

 

Speak to me if I have misunderstood you ---

Come and look me up somewhere between acid and ganja.

 

MRR 21/5/1999

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