[Chapters of Diary of an Adamant Seducer]

[Sung to “What is Love?” by Haddaway]

Stumble on, something fierce.
Come along, take a talk.
Whistle low, cut the sluice
Out it flows, splashing off
Yon flat-topped stone.

Give us fleshtufts that last.
Gift us heartclops that hold
Tight, cinching down sure.
Move the frenzy, shake it twice.
No one sees; it’s the dark
Where we shake it nice.
No one cares anyway
Anyhow.

The hairy brute with jagged jaw
Of overbiting yeller fangs,
Shoulders like tombstones,
Fingers concrete blocks.
Lurching crooked.
Sewn up sloppy.
Poor old fiend.
Poor thing.

What is right?
What is wrong?
How to know?
What to do?
Where’s the source?
What’s the twist?

Row a sinner through the glands,
Hoist a sinner up the gallows.
Guide a sinner to the mists
Where chaos splits and Jesus sits,
Clear in mind, steady hand
Flat-palmed snaking back and fore
‘Cross radiant haloed whitebread face.

Shape it, Jesus!
Show it, Jesus!
Flow rivers of passion and ideation,
Ease sumptuous human rivers
Easy, gentle, towards the Good.
Work it, Jesus!
Ah, ah, ah, we came down with the punched-up rowboat rocking, sloshing, sinking, leaving us to float like starved orphans, like victims of another unjust famine, like small skeletons of taut flesh and bucked-out teeth.

It is OK now.
Now we’re baptized.
Now we’re friends.
It’s not weird anymore, not awkward or anything.
It’s cool now.
Basically; pretty much cool.
I’d say; I mean, you’d have to ask

AMW/BW

[Chapters of Diary of an Adamant Seducer]