stevie mccabe's diabolic blog

May 30, 2012

My Jizzle

Filed under: 2012 stuff, anthropomorphism, beauty, Beliefs, bleak, Songs, Sorrow, Time — Stevie McCabe @ 1:06 pm

Look at my jizzle -
What a man without tackle can do with a speckle and a dazzle in his eye
a bleary-eyed suit with a cock-eyed view
September the eightth brings a straightened view

Seamlessly aimlessly riding out the storm
Killing the ceiling-drag rat as she crawls and lays her eggs
across and about walls, studs and nogs
visceral slayings of the vicious few

Achoo, sneezing like wizened thieves
firing on all cylinders, beating their hearts out
fighting for dear life, killing as she lays her eggs
mandibles clattering by the fence
MANDIBLES CLATTERING RIGHT BY THE FENCE

May 14, 2012

Moonbeam Tannenbaum

Filed under: destiny, fashion, fear, Hope, humanity, Love, monsters, Moon, oversize, Sorrow, Tide, Tragedy — Stevie McCabe @ 9:17 am

Holy mother of Moses , lay you down to weep
By the Avon River , 3 feet deep
A pocketful of moonbeams to keep me inspired
A dash of greying moondust from the moons funeral pyre

A blessing in disguise, oh boy what a good disguise
Didn’t see it coming tho its right before my eyes
A devil in the details, a devil in disguise
That old dust devil moonbeam caught me right between the eyes

January 8, 2012

Behemoth blue moon (the moons a babboon)

Filed under: 2011 Stuff, Moon, oversize, science, Songs, Sorrow, Space, Tragedy — Stevie McCabe @ 3:01 pm

By the rivers of Palestine
Where we used to bathe
Theres nothing like old england here
Except the fields of graves.

God save our noble king, go save his knob
Place it in this shallow basket to show to the hob-nobs
Crap in, Crap out the granola queen
Extinguish her before she breeds

Kentucky Blue grass beckons like “Squeaky” Fromme
Its so good to touch the blue grass of home
Grass as green as Sean “P. Diddy” Colmes
Oh sister let the good times roll

Sealed in the foment
Roughly impaled in the heat of the moment
Vaguely reminiscent of Henry Winkler
He was the first “Fonz”, like our first rodent

I remember the day the music died
Entertaining was once so straightforward
6 spoons on the left of me , a half dozen on right
Big Bopper gargling through the window  beer-wall, “Well, that’s alright!”

Balloon moon

Filed under: 2011 Stuff, Ambivalence, Events, fear, history, Hope, Moon, People, Rock, Sorrow — Stevie McCabe @ 8:16 am

Balloon moon I’ll be down soon
Maybe sooner than you know it
30 ft flames light the dawns early light
Oh say can you see what the press will call it

A balloon moon, au claire de la lune
A Nice day for a ballon d’essai tune
A nice day to start again
Sister shotgun wearing a sorghum grin

A steely grin is what you need
When u hit the wires ignition is imminent
No time to consult the manual of how-to
Drop like a led balloon, deflated without u

Sink like a line zapped luftballon
The moons a balloon, let me inflate you
Hook line and sinker whats the matter whats up
Sinkin within or without you

Sinkin and swimming
Pedal to the wheel
Steely grin tells em you got the metal
Cinnamon pinwheel donkey-tail spin

September 3, 2011

instant recall

Filed under: 2011 Stuff, Ambivalence, Anger, Rock, Songs, Sorrow, Space, Spirituality — Stevie McCabe @ 8:10 pm

instant recall – like your mother said, you’re right up to your knees in dreck!
makin it with teletubbies like you’re the new broom in the room, hairy as shrek around the neck

try a little tenderness and a little less shoeshine it leaves a skidmark when you leave
inflicting paralysis on ejection is not my m.o. but if you bring it on yourself i can’t help than mister

please mister please will you save that ass for me , not once not twice but as many times as it takes to make it
powdery like a milk – pool in a a high flung wind as compared to the gnarly cess pool it is right now even the cretins and huns were howling how do you carry that thing about, its a weapon of mass destruction. saddam and gadaffi invoked the geneva convention!
the mlk gang  took a mass collection, i don’t care i was paid up front in full
you’d be a fool if you think its over already its only just begun keep your eyes clear of wool,
those silver sixpences you saved will keep you well out of danger, bein a bush ranger makes you no stranger to danger
keep the bush fires burning with anxiety, fight fires not fire the internal , infernal heat of your majesty!

mlk’s alright by me, whatever suits your style
i got mine he got his both of us use the same turnstyle
to hoop the hoop and hop over and ream the philly’s coach with an iron baton and pound his nose into a wheaten mass, but i digress

cobblestone filters always hide the faded tears
the drippy side effects of yellowing beers
pleading , sometimes suerceceding such surlplus anger
what would it cost to be trained up as a bush ranger?
please mr qadaffi or whatever yer name is
salut, allah akhbar , the wind is strong in this one
tailpipe ballooning like a lead beret
goodbye, good luck see you out on the field some day!

July 15, 2011

Life after Bob Exists

Filed under: Anger, destiny, efficacy, Hope, People, Songs, Sorrow, Spirituality, Time, Tragedy — Stevie McCabe @ 2:37 pm

Life after Bob exists, its a new way
Thank you for the memories, get you thee behind me please
aint gonna mope, thats a foolish jape
made a big impression now its time for the blue cheese

Crackers on a plate with a punnet of dip
no use in moping you don’t know the half of it
Bob-free stone free to do what i want
I can do it just for the hell of it

Now the sun rises again
Nobody knows where these egos can go
There are no no-goes, release the embargoes
Ring the bells they can chime again

June 5, 2011

the motorcade – magazine cover

Motorcade – Magazine cover

April 24, 2011

(a) Tweet for my suite

Filed under: Ambivalence, anthropomorphism, Collective Consciousness, Psychology, Songs, Sorrow — Stevie McCabe @ 9:13 pm

Tweet for my suite all the way down the line
fingers do the working evrythings fine
its all A-OK, tweet me and pass the dime
no quarter is given or accepted, mutilated or form-fine

All down the tweet-line the lady adelines harmonise
They’re the sweetest things you ever heard, they’re divine
tomorrow the firehose will bring another deluge of kind thoughts
kind, unkind, what kind of tweets whatever you can say is fine

when the bough breaks the tweeters will fly
they flock together when it suits, i do so hope it stays fine
higgeldy piggeldy, a beak pecks at its shell
come out of your shell, birds make this nest your own!

500 baby emus not wanting to unbury their heads
making a run for it, its a no-fly zone
can i quoote your tweet on that to the local press?
no, no, no thats not what i mean by duress

this is for the txt-ers, the sxt-ers, the peter-tweeters
for all the guys who got her number but could never tweet her
the one wanted a limo but got a five-seater
the one who wants to pig out but ended up wearing a hog-sweater

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