The Psychopathic Cat

Me gots a cat in a cradle,

me swing it with me tail,

swing it extra hard,

me like the way she wails.

I got a dart board with knife holes

cuz me darts darted away.

Me so mean a cat, man,

that objects refuse to stay.

Me mates play pull me finger

and I snap it for some jam

the sound of yowling kitties

makes me wanna dance.

Skatting with me homies,

raping pussies down the rows,

getting double helpings

from worms inside dead crows.

I gots me a VHS set full of pornos,

got a list of enemy cats

that I gots on me kill list,

I’m a pyschopathic cat.

Me bad right to the marrow

of the bone me chewing on,

I say ‘Is you is mah bebe?’

but in the morning I be gone.

Artwork by Michael Hurley


No Entry

She can’t welcome you in
when the doors fully bolted,
from the inside
she’s in a land where she’s faulted.
The memories haunt
as they dance to the rhythm
and her demons
they’re screaming “There’s no carpe diem.”
She seizes the past
instead of the present
and thats why there’s a descent
instead of an up,
and instead of being full
there’s an empty cup.
Not even half full,
or a quarter, theres nothing,
and the people in her dreams
are mocking and scoffing.
These alcoholic drinks
they’re greedily quaffing.
Drink up, keep drinking,
drink til you drown.
Suffocate on vodka bitches
as you laugh, you fake clowns.
She laughs pretty loud,
so fake she astounds
as she takes hold of this tower
and stands at the top,
embracing the air
she gracefully flops.
Closes her eyes
and the air hits her face,
then she’s kissing the ground
and there’s no more space
or concept of time
in the blackness of death.
The doors fully bolted,
its time now for rest.

Hurley Wanna Hurl.

Woke up one morning

and looked in the fridge,

I saw simply nothing,

said: ‘Man what a bitch.’

The fridge it was empty,

where did my food go?

Did it run from its cage?

From mould did legs grow?

My girl,

I am starving,

I been sleeping all day

where did my food go?

Did you take it away?

I had chop-suey

and lamb shank,

a hamburger too.

They all disappeared,

my girl,

was it you?

I’m hungry and grumbling,

my belly it aches

where the fuck are my chippys?

my pepper sauce and my steak?

Oh girl,

I am starving.

My tummy, it growls,

and in the night

it will wake you

as it rumbles and howls.

Where is my bacon?

My eggs and my bread?

Why is there some green hands

a green brain and a head?

My food is all gone,

been replaced by a body

but man oh man,

I still sure am hungry.

People eat brain right?

In some places a delicacy

and as someone once said:

‘brain sure is good for me’

Get the stove hot now honey

we’re frying tonight.

It’s gonna be a hot one

My belly’s alright.

Thumb Head Girl

Thumb Head Girl

with the gorgeous breasts,

I give you a thumbs up

more than the rest.

With your Jolie leg out

and your pink, plastic mane,

I want to nail you all night –

Thumb Head you drive me insane.

I got my thumb out right now,

I’m hitchin’ for a ride,

but you bow your head down:

Access Denied.

Oh Thumb Head Girl

with the gorgeous breasts,

you gave me a thumbs down

just like the rest.

But Thumb Head Girl,

Thumb Head Girl,

I still like you best.

The Curse of the Righteous Stone

As I staggered softly to my home,

whistling, giggling, I heard a groan.

I stopped, concerned, and stole a peek

to see a bloodied stone  in the street.

My neck, it bristled like a wolf,

a hackle rose, and goose-bumps goosed.

‘Is anyone there?’ I shouted, brave,

but no single answer came.

I shrugged, I turned, continued my stroll,

to reach my modest, lonely home,

when I heard a pitter-patter on the road

and turned to see the bloodied stone.

No eyes as such, yet parts did glisten,

as though some macabre mind was on a mission –

but such thoughts! Thoughts from one so drunk!

I laughed and turned and slowly slunk.

‘An evil stone? What crude, strange thoughts!

I must be half-a-penny short!’

I laughed and carried on my stroll

yet my heart stopped dead when I heard the stone.

It didn’t speak as such, but scraped a whisper

and said: ‘Your wife… do you still miss her?’

I wiped my eyes, said: ‘Leave me alone.’

yet my body shook with icy bones

‘I know you well, oh little man.

I know you are a drunk. I know you ran.

Your stricken wife, she needed you,

yet you ran away, you cared for you.

I am a righteous stone. I right the wrongs.

Your time is up. It won’t be long.

I will take you sir, will take you now.

It can be easy, painless, if you allow.’

I shook my head. I mopped my brow.

A fetid fever, am I sick?

Stones today, tomorrow a brick?

I laughed, my conscience was out to play.

No time for games. I ran away.

I heard the pitter-patter follow me home

this conscience hungry, righteous stone.

A supernatural stone, a ghostly spectre

bought to this earth to bully and hector.

I reached my door, ran in, and turned the lock.

Safe at last, I laughed and mocked.

I opened my letterbox, put my mouth to the gap,

and felt the stone crash against my teeth,

they snapped.

The stone forced itself inside my mouth,

I coughed and choked and fell about.

A mouth full of blood and broken teeth,

the stone rummaged around, a violent creep,

clattering, crashing, fighting to break through,

my throat was raw, my terror grew.

A violent violation, an awful dream,

for help I tried to shout and scream.

Merely gargles burbled out,

my eyes they bulged, my nose a spout.

The stone blocked my airways, the light turned black.

I saw my wife. No turning back.

O Girl Get Under My Umbrella (the Acid Rain is Gonna Come)

O girl,

get under my umbrella,

the acid rain is gonna come;

it’s made of tin and nickel bits

and will save you ’til the sun.

O girl,

get under my umbrella,

the acid rain is gonna come,

you can sit with me

upon the beach

as fish mutate like salted slugs.

O girl,

its just regression

as the acid rain swiftly, softly comes;

it eats the cloth and skin and leaves the bones,

showing we are all one.

O girl,

get under my umbrella,

the acid rain is gonna come.

I’ll put my arm around you

as the world becomes undone

and we can laugh and joke

as that beefy bloke

shrivels and shrinks to none.

O girl,

get under my umbrella,

the acid rain is gonna come.

I can kiss you in the sharpness

as the pin pricks shoot like guns.

We’ll be safe beneath the umbrella

o, girl,

lets have some fun.

Why you shakin’ your head girl,

why you gotta run?

O girl,

I wanna romance you

I wanna kiss you in the rain.

O girl,

I wanna romance you

in a shitty shower that stains.

O girl,

you’re drivin’ me crazy,

O girl,

I’m so in pain.

My umbrellas dissolved to nothing

and this drizzle’s melting my brain.

O girl,

I just wanna hold you,

but my arms have turned to bone;

O girl,

do you think I deserve you

as I stand before you, the rubble of rome?

O girl,

you ran from love that hid under an umbrella

and left me here alone.

O girl,

you shoulda got under the umbrella

why did you have to run?

O girl,

we coulda had something special,

we coulda had some fun.

Blinded by Science

She blinded me with science.

I expected razzle dazzle, pomp, panache;

a bass line hook

and a crescendo crash.

Perhaps little birds and love hearts afloat,

holding warm hands

in Autumn coats

but no, nuh uh, not meant to be

for my fair maiden had a chemical science degree.

She made a potion highly potent

– created with a fine mass of math –

until she concluded the correct quotient

to throw in my eyes in a parks path.

‘My eyes, my eyes!’ my voice did bellow

as a hideous goo

poured out, brown and yellow.

The woman claimed to be a nurse –

a simple lie and my life’s curse.

She took me home

and cared for me well,

I fell in love,

fell for her spell.

I got down one day on bended knee

and she said “Over here!”

(because I couldn’t see)

I tried again

and she accepted

but I know her trickery

and now regret it.

We married in a church of glamour

with a funky priest

and black soul jammers.

When we returned from that church

she told me straight

about my curse.

The bitch, she knew my wallet was bulging

and she felt like a bit

of selfish indulging.

“I’m going on honeymoon”

she said with a smirk,

“With a guy called Stavros,

not you, you berk.”

She left me here

and took a plane

for sun, sea and sex

with a Turk in Spain.

Blinded by love?

No, just a fool reliant

on the devious bitch who blinded with science.