As I Journey Through The Veins Of The Frozen Mandarin

as I journey through the veins of the frozen mandarin

with a crocodile trinket tight around my wrist

in a circus tavern drinking from the belly of a pregnant bat

my trilby hat in its' top hat and tails

waltzes on a scrabble board with a beatles paperback;

darkest tales from the nicotine tongue of the mariners younger days

his skin and bone hands walking with his wounded words for his waxwork marionette

back to the days when his love for a bright-eyed jellied eel

peeled away his treasure map then stole his ferris wheel;

discarded limbs on spiders wings

flying through the misting eyes of a tearful strangers brew

all alone with his slide trombone in a karaoke mood

chocking on loves cabbage patch as he pokes and prods his way through his love sick food;

I see the village whore snoring with her adoring eyes lost on a roasted hen

as a wise old owl in his monkey suit

smirks naked as he flaunts for all his customised cheque book and pen;

my chicken in its basket grows cold on the folding napkins smile

as still I sit in waiting for an evening star to love me for a while

and sing with the voice of Doris Day a more truthful lullaby

and wait for the evenings bitter mood to calmly pass me by;

I sit here all alone with my flaming brandy torturing my meat

my aching back still waiting for the touch of shemale feet

perhaps because -because perhaps- this night wont heal my sorrow

I will peg myself on loves washing line and dry out for tomorrow;