Sunday, 19 December 2010

Her Habitat

A two faced friend
A drain
A pain
An aptitude for suffering
She creeps upon me
Embracing my mind
With a cacophony
Of jumbled thought
A racing pulse
My ignited paranoia
Strangling my embryonic sleep
‘Til wide awake
I countenance
The fragility of my sanity
Nocturnal ghost
A haunting
Consuming me in a
Toxic kiss
Emboldened by my flaccid
She coils around my imagination
Madame Malevolent
And her corrosive litter
Haunting me once more..

Andy Horsman


I’m very well acquainted
With my failings as a man
I hear without much listening
I indulge more than I plan
And I am not the strongest soul
Resisting temptations in my path
When nervous I can be a fool
Almost embarrassingly crass
I tend to procrastinate
Far more often than I should
I hold on to my bitterness
When to let go would be good
But I know that I love you
More than I love life itself
And that’s my undiluted truth
I want nobody else………..

Henry Glover's Immortal Soul

Shot in the back
Shot in the back
Shot in the back
For the crime of being black
Shot in the back
And burned alive
Shot in the back
And burned alive
Sister Katrina wailing
For the protect and serve betrayal
Shot in the back
For the crime of being black
Trigger happy doughnut junky
Treating people like rabid monkeys
Wrong place at the right time
Right place for the wrong crime
Henry was so menacing
With his innocent back turned
Nailed just like a trophy stag
And then left to burn
Like Martin Luther King
Never happened
Like Jesse Jackson
Never happened
Like Malcolm X
Never happened
Like Louis Farrakhan
Never happened
Like Obama Christ
Never happened

Wednesday, 8 December 2010


Beneath this slumbering, sleeping sea
Angelic voices whisper back at me
These tides at rest are calmer now
The ebbing madness
Fades to dawn….

And here beneath the shimmering mirror
Refracted lights dance silver steps
A coral fanfare for the sleepy heads
With kaleidoscopic colours spread

This beast caged so appearances seem
Raw power tamed in a precarious sheen
Wild winds intense on a distant shore
Bring the earliest foretelling
Of an angry storm…

And here where silent becalming reigns
The maelstrom brewing unshackles chains
We wake like jetsam from the deep
Refreshed like Seraphim from our sleep
Andy Horsman

Sunday, 28 November 2010

Scrabble Boulevard

Selecting my words with consummate care
Judiciously editing phrases that offend
Delicacy was never my way
I tend to speak in exacting terms
So grant me a little latitude
As I attempt to frame my thoughts
Exercising my expansive vocabulary
To the furthest reaches of my recall
Taking a measured breath
To extend my cerebral diaphragm
I express my innermost thoughts
In bite sized demography :
# Fuck you and your churches
# Fuck you and your gods
# Fuck you and your royalty
# Fuck you and your laws
# Fuck you and your avarice
# Fuck you and your rules
# Fuck you and your slavery
# Fuck you and your wars
# Fuck you and your profits
# Fuck you and your propaganda
# Fuck you and your governance
# Fuck you and all you represent!!
Andy Horsman

December Sings

Whistled tunes
Rebel songs
From the burnt out squatters war
Wishes discarded like confetti strewn
Upon the empty chapel floor
No gods no lords no masters
All hope we have is ours
No faith or trust in equity
Our kettled souls bearing scars
We marched upon their bastions
The heart of all they own
Taking back the city streets
To rebuild our cardboard homes
We never asked for wealth nor prize
All we want is to be freed
Disestablishing monoliths
That this corrosive system needs
We do not want the hand that feeds
We could do that for ourselves
We do not want your governance
To be slaves of someone else
We want to build a better world
Without hierarchy and fear
We want to embrace our humanity
Unshackled from the austere
An end to war and the market’s greed
Exploitation and the slaughter
Community and mutual consent
Clear minds and drinking water
Whistled tunes
Tattered flags
As black as a banker’s heart
We will never claim to be truly free
Until Capitalism is torn apart

Wednesday, 24 November 2010

Be A Poker Player

We would rather go to ruin
Than admit the drug has changed
Online mental methadone
To placate and medicate

Anaesthetised by proxy
Subliminally locked in chains
It used to be orthodoxy
That sanitised our brains

In robotic mode we log on to compete
If we can avert our TV eyes
Mesmerised by celebrity culture
And the tabloid sound byte lies

Well take your cards and gamble
That you may win the biggest prize
Flushed with the rush of anticipation
Brainwashing in disguise

Sponsored by, endorsements from
Well it’s another tax rich scam
Diverting your thoughts from the turmoil
Engulfing the working man

There must be a winning formula
There has to be a way to win
Keep flipping aces and paying your dues
While the walls keep closing in.

Andy Horsman

White Trash Blues

Wipe the pollution from your eyes
I’ll buy you a slice of South China sky
Never been
Never had
Never could have said
As poor as dust mites on the wind
With our spirits all but dead

Hanging by a worn out thread
With demanding voices in our heads
Never were
Never would
Never could have been
Like jetsam on a tainted beach
Jettisoned from a shattered dream

Seeking Eden where paradise expired
Simplicity unlocking the most cherished desires
Never tasted
Never smelled
Never could have touched
The outstretched grasp of determination
With our aspirations crushed

Turn the page and read some more
About the wealthy avarice and fuck the poor
Never wanted
Never asked
Never wore all your chains
Our spirit survives despite the oppression
We’ll strive to survive again
Andy Horsman

Sunday, 31 October 2010

This Shame

We learned nothing from the path of history
Spending long nights sharpening knives
An insidious, odious slide to the right
And brewing, swollen venomous spite
Pinpointing differences to hate
And weaknesses to stigmatise
Stoking the fetid prejudicial flames
With blinding zealousness in our eyes.

We learned little from the truth that has been exposed
About the very evil that men do
In the name of honour and blood and integrity
The darker side seeping through
And still blindly we buy the rhetoric
And we march to the most monotonous drum
Engulfed in the cloaks of our paranoia
Superior to those we deemed less than scum

We learned nothing from the past that shames us all
The persecutions and the genocide
The most senseless pogroms against innocence
The bloodiest, hateful tide
And we weaken ourselves every time that we fail
To halt this monolithic flow of pain
If we do not learn that hatred devours our humanity
We will destroy ourselves again.

Zen Diagram

Being truly global
In each and every sense
Euphoria, my elixir
A therapeutic blanket
Restoring and rewarding
My weary, teary soul

Standing almost touching
The world that I most want
Free of all the bullshit
The politics
The greed
A village built on mutualism
And consumption based on need
Worlds away from worlds at war
And the impoverished kept in chains
A restoration of humanity
Where we have found ourselves again.

Breathing the air
Of a freed man
And believing in inherent good
We talk and share and join in thought
To create a better world
Untarnished by the avarice
The profits and the prophets
No sexist
Just a flawless, precious plateau
Of inspirational respect

And then at once I wake up
And realise I have dreamed
I reach out to the mourning son
And resume this tarnished life………………….

Postcard From Helmand

No retreat, no failure
No heroin and no oil
Just row after row of shallow graves
Shrouded by the widows’ grief

No retreat, no failure
No justification for the slaughter
Imperialism wearing a modernist cloak
Greed’s motivation little changed

No Retreat, no failure
Nothing ventured and nothing gained
Pointless sacrifices justified
In soulless politick rhetoric.

No retreat, no failure
No victory, no spoils
Crusader of the mighty vs. Cleric AK47
Prejudice cemented in the aggregate of hate.


Smiley sexy auteur
Sanctified and sacrificed
Apologies to the creations
Of these imaginations raped
Uninhibited by morality
Or the façade of a halo slipped
Reconstituted psycho-verbal
Desecrators of deluded dreams
Running on the spot
Possessed to be processed
A thief of intellectualism
Hiding from the truth
Not outlaw but without law
Unethically compromised
One last trip to oblivion
Waving a tattered, trophy mace

The Black and The Red

Mr Time Bomb
Absorbs the bullshit like a sponge
Never conformable
Never succumbing to the fear
Stand alone
And wear the courage that ignites
Inside the inferno rages
Outside the outsider is still

Ploughs a contrary path
Maintaining dignity above all
Never pliable
Never indoctrinated
Keeping counsel
And observant of the times
Watch the mad macramé maelstrom
Unravelling, all around

Mr Time Bomb
Takes every beating with stoic pride
Never cries out
Never seeks to play their game
Waits and watches
Knows the time for change will come
Reviews his armoury
His mind much sharper than a blade

The underground his finishing school
Never sought conformity
Never needed to belong
His patience based on knowledge
And the great desire for equity
Watches the foundations crumble
As their fortresses implode

Mr Time Bomb
Reaches deep inside himself
The time is fast approaching
Our time is fast approaching

Saturday, 30 October 2010

The Clown of Tinseltown

The plaster cracked
And the paper torn
Shop your pimp
Your puppeteer
Neon strips
And flickering lights
Underneath the sky
Bleeds city soul
The pavement slopes
And the tarmac rots
Where the roots emerge
So bare
So many lost souls
Passed here and paused
En route to the stars
With wide eyes blind

The fanfares sound
The trumpets blare
And the reddest carpets
You choose your vice
To pursue your dream
In a barbed wire bale
At rest
The wastrel song
Slurred in chemical voice
Builds crescendo
On the streets
No Tin Pan paradise
Tetanus Boulevard
A canvas roof
Your shroud

Science (And The Jigsaw Blues)

Not fooling anybody
Any of the time
The children of the revolution
Will not pay for your crimes
Chlamydia and the damage done
Looking artificial
In a hall of tinted mirrors
Where the daylight rarely rests

Unleashing caustic spirits
The tinder dry explosive wit
Emotion creates a Molotov
To singe the worldly hip
Hysteria and the shroud of shame
Beyond the palace gates
We trip and slip through mazes
Avoiding darkest secrets

Harmonising with the wind
That swirls around the seething sun
Anodyne anonymity
Where the shocks are set to stun
Brutal force dehumanizes
The inflicted and the restless
Restitution creates demand
Where the final footsteps fade

Tuesday, 26 October 2010

It Isn’t You, It’s Me ( A Salutary Tale)

Lost in translation
So sterile and cold
Evoking bittersweet memories
And the tenderness of heartache

Every song an epitaph
And every bar reminding
Nothing tastes or smells the same
The Technicolor switch is off

Shivering and seeking warmth
In the very place coldness starts
The turned cheek and the turned page
Your disconnected heart

Loiter like a lost soul
On the fringes of your life
Voyeurism by blind default
As all happiness dissolves

Reaching for the answer
The bitter amber stings your throat
Swift release but oh so-so brief
In tattered pieces, fall apart.

Stunned that the fire extinguished
And you are cast aside
Superfluous and jettisoned
Your very essence bruised.

Herein lies the ugly truth
Those feelings transient
Swathed in the songs that season
This misery that lingers on


Aint no fat lady singing to A punk rock monstrosity
Mistress so unexplained
Deviating from an unchartered course
Of uninhibited intercourse
A feral vibe
Or a dying tribe
When the fish are all sailing
In an ocean of indifference
Sway or stay but please decree
The bland middle ground is choking my senses
Like a vat of cold comfort
On a shoulder so cold
Refreezing butter that wouldn’t melt
On your forsaking tongue
And loiter quite aimless, drifter
Until a happening occurs
To illuminate your puerility
And enhance your shades of grey
In a world robbed of every hue
And the colour drained leaves a mark
Beneath the ash
The layers of dust
The remaining embers spark

An Anarchist’s Lament

I tried to join the system
But the system made me sick
The Pharisees
The murderers
The spineless hypocrites
No gods
No lords, no masters
No hierarchy
No chains
Escaping from the slavery
Of being born again

One man and one vote
The misconception that you’re free
All charades
And sleights of hand
The weight of hegemony
The state and the holy church
Conspiring to entrap
Compelling all men to sell their souls
Then stabbing them in the back

Religious hate, the new crusades
The dogmatic will of wars
Exploitation, the chief export
Of the capitalistic cause
No freedom can be claimed
When the shackles stay locked tight
Sleepwalking with your eyes open
The American dream is shite

I tried to join the system
I simply did not fit
The racist, sexist misogynists
The zealots and the pigs
No honesty, no honour
No justice and no truth
The status quo must be maintained
The system is absolute.


Suspend my disbelief
And wipe my stuttering eyes
An eulogy from a pariah
And the false tears
Mask false words
Overtly cynical I may be
But then again I feel
Staggered at the duplicity
Of hypocrisy personified

And how pray do you rest
Your two- faced head at night?
This falsehood truly agitates
My sense of what is right
Better to be true I say
Than conform in a mist of lies
Shrouded black and mournful
Like your red but tearless eyes.

Bite my ragged tongue
And swallow the bile I need to spit
Aching to suppress my fury
At this ludicrous tableau
In life there was no harmony
In death no resolution
Mourn now to bathe your emptiness
In a smug ersatz display.

Projecting Inwards

A man of few words
Most best left unsaid
Between the manifested diatribe
And the chaos in my head
As the sun she sets
On another dull distorted day
I will bite my tongue
To vet the words I say
A man of few words
And most of those with spite
My real nemesis is me
Uncoiled, yet so uptight
As the night she falls
And the daylight ebbs
The maelstrom stirs inside me
The chaos in my head
A man of few words
And the used words spat
Tormented by my demons
My twisted soul wracked
As a new day dawns
My sleepless self lies prone
Unsatisfied, and meaningless
In inexpressive monotones.

Bosnia, Rwanda, Afghanistan, Iraq

Day breaks so we sweep up all the pieces
So caught up in our own cleverness
Distant voices indistinct but
Follow our echoing footsteps
Everywhere we roam
It wasn’t brave
It certainly wasn’t reasoned
Now we have the luxury
Of time to sit and think
It wasn’t sensible
It certainly wasn’t courageous
We betrayed ourselves
By becoming what we despised.

Night falls so we try to recreate it
In our vision the future is oblique
Grasping fingers
Brush against our war wounds
Attempting to engage
With the humanity we lost
It wasn’t heroic
Slaughtering the children
It can’t be justified
Because we dug their graves
It wasn’t equitable
It certainly wasn’t worth it
Cannibalising our souls
In the machinery of war.

Mirage (Part 1)

Obliquely in the shadows
Like a murmur of the eye
Peripheral to vision
In a misted, glazed disguise
A hint, a shade, a suggestion
An impression leaving scars
At the edges of this reality
Where the daylight meets the dark.
A dance upon the watcher’s gaze
A glint across the sight
A muse, a ruse, an attitude
Where daylight embraces night
In fevered gaze, unwavering
An hypnotic, lysergic stare
So fixed upon smudged horizons
The ever, almost, never there...................

Mirage (Part II)

Melodeon, melodious
And the zing string boom-boom rock
Crashing, throbbing, strumming
A cacophony of chaos
Sirocco salsa two-stepped
Upon the waterbed of Coleman jazz
Impressionistic soundscape splashes
Amidst the minuets of doom!
Vibrating, screeching, etching
The architects of melody/melancholy
Subverting classical passive coda
Imbibing these malevolent chimes
Rhythmically riotous
And them bass string bending blues
Impaling the soul of the soulless sole
While the quantum quavers quell…………………..

Party Fears ( An Epilogue)

Live nostalgic Mr Dreamer
Suck the melancholy ache
Airbrushing the painful
From the pallet of recall
A little older not so wiser
Or at least the saying goes
Bathing in the sepia hues
Of the best years of our lives
Grasping hold of memories
With a hunger and an awe
Were we really, were we real
Did we live that way at all?
A faded, tatty Polaroid
And a crumpled ticket stub
The detritus we hoarded
Like a tribute to our past
Feet tap tap tap tapping
To the soundtrack of our lives
The walk we walked, the talk we talked
Or the way that we perceived
We tripped the lights fantastic
We tripped up all the stairs
Swathed in black and incense
These memories cherished still.

Scratching An Itch

Exchanging lines with Naomi Klein
About the smokescreen sheen
Of the American Dream
And the slaughtered lands of the ‘free’
To subsidise the bankers
And the landed Bourgeoisie
Exchanging thoughts with Noam Chomsky
About the death of global democracy
And the oil spill destruction of economies
To burn down rebuilt New Orleans
With bullet proof old money autocracy
And free market hypocrisy

Exchanging lines with Naomi Klein
About this Globalising death
And the petit coercion of the Left
And the sanctified murder
Of free speech and disorder
And the polluted winds stealing our breath
Exchanging muses with Noam Chomsky
About the Neo-Con malaise
Swathed in evangelical praise
In the pan-global prosperity
Of the elitist, greediest, wealthiest topology.
Witness the erosion of all humanity

Obama where art thou??

Behold a shameless remedy
For each and every poisoned memory
These deviated freedoms chain
The fettered souls of the insane
Caged innocence in a captive state
The cold personification of hate
Preached with a raw, primeval glare
Watchers watch as the tensions flare
In these crooked shadows of despair
Stood frightened in the monsters lair
The enclaves of the religious right
Worshipping the stars and stripes
Pursuing profit for the dollar bill
Diplomacy practised as shoot to kill
Democracy proven as a facile façade
To soothe the wounds of the battle scarred.
So launch a new world with a shell
Exploding illusions in a fiery hell
Feeble resistance is eradicated
By the death bestowed as aid by hatred
Rendering justice as an oblique concept
Where the price of freedom is a crushing debt
Ragged rebellion in the name of the truth
The destruction of liberty is absolute.


Some time to say I am sorry
When I fucked it up again
Buffing my tarnished ego
At the risk of losing it all
Mr Self-destruct destroyed
Wallowing in my misery
This shallow, fickle mind indulged
In the bath of wasted tears

Same old, same old story
My senses they depart once more
Playing Russian Roulette
With five shells in the chamber
A tale of inherent stupidity
And I squeeze the trigger guard
Time to pay the piper’s toll
With a corrosive currency

All apologies
Like the poignant words of Kurt Cobain
I rebuilt, restored, renewed your love
And then ripped it up again
The truth is that I love you more
Than my words can ever convey
I’ve got to nail my demons down
And then lock them all away

Some time to say I am sorry
When you’ve heard it all before
The floundering, mumbled words of guilt
The shame of being so weak
More fear and loathing than Hunter S
In my patchwork idiot’s soul
I have hurt you and I am eternally sorry
The fault is all my own


Sunday, 24 October 2010

August 24th 2007

Too easy to be noble
When the shoe’s on the other boot
Falling again
From basement windows
A paradox in a paradigm
Removed from sensibility
And gift-wrapped as insane
Packaged and pre-diagnosed
To fit into their boxes 
Caution is the byword
For avoiding talking sense
In riddle-speak we waver
When the truth remains unsaid
Yield and wane and subjugate
Divide and rule and castigate
Formulate your list of targets
Identifiable as dissimilar
Avoidance and refraction
Deflects the seeker from the quest
Falling again
Into the same barbed snare
A cliché, a stereotype
Distanced from the baying hordes
By a gesture, a word, a thought
Corpulent complacency
Fuels a malignant stealthy growth

A Fucker Fucks................

So feral, my indulgences
And my tongue beneath your waist
Teasing and pleasing and painting circles
Upon your wettest skin
Where pleasure meets pain we linger
The physical and the sensual
Exacting touches seek approval in
Flushed tones and releases

Sated hunger indulged desires
And the kinkiest ends of lust
In love in pain in hedonism
Seeking out greater highs
Limbs entwined like serpent’s kisses
Fingertips of plenitude
Tracing outlines on your navel
Straying towards a secret kiss

So pliant these sensations spent
And these pulses so sustaining
Skin on skin on satins stained
Screamed satisfaction’s testament
Inside your warmth with eyes wide shut
And the balled fists so relaxed
Climbing to your molten peaking
Profane, profound and all devoured.

Thought Splatter!!

Stroking the folk beard
Several parts of the same plant
Subliminal suggestion
Cradle to the sunken grave
A verdigris pallor
A contagious palaver
Restructured, reconstituted
Repackaged bullshit
New romances for new romantics
Hand in hand and fist on heart
As pious as purloined candles
Pilfered from matinee mass
As substantive and emotive
As rice pudding skin
Silence erupts in the flame of blues
An elder retelling tomorrow’s news
Red Dwarf phrasing and Batman shoes
Comic book emotion in a Cryptic age
Shuffling feet and muffled voices
Muted screeching of silent screams
For every Munch another Mark E Smith
Rewriting the lexicon of a whisky muse
Long lost love losing sepia sheen
Nostalgia waning as the memory mists clear
Each and every bitter word is paraphrased
Echoed decades passed and best left still
Cling to the coattails of a fictional blade
Warmed briefly by fifteen minutes of indifference
The cost of being real is the price of being bought
For these petty my pretties switching their sashes.

Her Legacy

Lady Maggie, the Dame of death
With Belgrano blood on her hands
Sees the reaping crop of the seeds she had sown
In the destruction of this fair land
The ruination of communities
The pogrom against the working class
The sold souls of all imaginative thought
The obsession with a mythical past
The Generation Lost begat
This Generation’s losers
The greed the self the apathy
The beggars who cannot be choosers
The hatred and the suspicion
The jingoism cast with spite
In urban wastelands she manufactured
Knives stabbing in the night
No prospects and no welfare state
Disassembled brick by brick
The rotting corpse of market economics
Poisoning the vulnerable and sick
Well I long for the day they bury you deep
Six feet beneath the ground
I’ll join the queue to piss on your grave
When they lower your carcass down.

Being Hank Rollins

This anger is muscular
And every sinew is strained
Spasmodic rationale
Irritated to the point of pain
And scream your vitriol
Your barely suppressed misanthropy
Like a venom distorting reason
Stoking your raging ire
Wild-eyed and pumped on
The adrenaline of fury
This anger is so manifest
Reaching the optimum
Such malice all consuming
Distracts the focussed soul
Spitting bile with an acidic tongue
Into the Scarlet hues of rage…………….

On Piano Mr Tom Waits....................

Throwing arrows
At the temples of despair
Like an archer of ample antipathy
A wastrel minstrel
Yodelling scream like
Lipstick kiss on a
Stained glass
Reflecting all the colours diffused
Onto a canvas
Made of ice
Instil in me a new distinction
To discriminate
And touch the boundaries
Corral me in a pen of plenitude
Starved of inference
Rummaging blithely
Though somewhat blindly
Through the patchwork
So I might be the
Very antithesis
Of soothing with my ragamuffin mentality
And eyebrows shorn
But I bring with me
The full scope of my patience
And a nearly full deck
Of playing cards
With naked girls and
Wishful philosophies
A playful player
On the turntable turned
Wearily signposting
Downwards and out.

Locked In

Cracks in the coving
Cracks in the ceiling
My cracked feelings
Silent but I’m screaming
Frozen in suspension
So alone
So alone
For the wasted words and deeds and emotions
Discarded like the debris
That pollutes my volcanic soul
Trapped and snared and gaoled and caught
Shackled by immobility
And the ragged stream of thoughts
Self pity
Begat self loathing
Begat benign calm
And resolve
Entombed in this brittle shell
The release
The darkness
The end…………………

Chomsky Says (The Liberty Ballad)

It’s all about the whispering
The clandestine
The secret codes
But we never walk the walk we walk
And we don’t talk the talk we talk
It’s all a subtle sleight of hand
A masquerade
A pantomime
Is our will discarded to appease
Keeping the peace
The tension increased
Simply simmering unchecked
Amidst bitten tongues
Unvoiced regrets?
Kicking the dirt
And exchanging looks
Conveying our frustration
At liberties they took
Sharpening our knives
Our minds, our wit
Swimming upstream
Against the tide
Of malignant, convoluted
Oppressive bullshit
It’s more about the disrespect
The inequalities
The suppressed regret
The slavery and lack of choice
The repressed creativity
The muting of our voices
Well change must come and come it will
No ballot box
Or bullet’s fired
Can paper over all these ills
So we educate and talk and wait
And prepare ourselves to seal our fate
No lords no gods no masters left
When we choose to live life
Instead of living death.


Rainbow Absolute

Skating across the surface
Of a psychedelic dream
The oranges so vivid
The parameters ermine green
Slapstick clouds sweep gliding by
Upon a tickled breeze
The reds they glow like embers
Amidst the ultraviolet trees
Here we go round the burning bush
With the sunlight in our eyes
The urban blues got azure shoes
And a misted pink disguise
Stirring the melting pot of fate
Into the middle distant gaze
The blackest darkness beckoning
To snuff the dancing yellow days
Reaching into the crimson waters
Surfing maelstrom’s purple tide
Spinning in a swirling whirlwind
Kaleidoscopic colours slide
Dancing to the melting colours
Hands outreaching, fingers spread
Festive senses tingle pleasure
Waltzing white in my crazy head


A torrent of dislocated thought
Emotional avalanche
Cascading fears
And a river of tears
The desire to escape
Is tempered by
This insatiable hunger
To educate and be educated
Knowledge is power
Knowledge is fear
Understanding the danger
And this source of aching paranoia
Chased and chaste
By the weight of comprehending
That all as is,
Is all as is not
A trove of reality
And uncensored
Sobers like a corrosive balm
On tender, tender skin