ladies & gentlemen, doctors & nurses

this place is a casualty department

all our mouths moan "nurse!
give me the x-ray of your attention
prescribe the lifting of my curse"
it's any gathering of adults, it's a nightclub, it's a street
dolce and gabana is the rich kids' bandage
the poor ones just overeat
the walking wounded and the basket cases
limp from scene to scene
hunting out some loving surgeon
with a double life-support machine
but they'll settle for a butcher and an aspirin
- they'll get by
bones fuse and nerves dull, you can even fix a smile
she says 'we love each other really
we just walk a crooked mile'
one man's meat is another's meat substitute

yet no-one can stand alone -
this catch 22 makes mincemeat
of all the turkeys waiting by the phone
the foot-soldiers and the sacrificial lambs
get dolled up and they drift
into the arms of the venus de milo
hoping for a fireman's lift
but they just get judo, or fuck all
and yet doctors and nurses, plainclothes, exist

their soft blows heal the breaks

their tongues apply wild lotions

licking deep into the aches
these are the good spin-doctors

when the planet grinds they help it glide

untrained, unpaid and unannounced
they appear at your side
damaged fruit can make champagne

roses blossom through manure

natural medicine floods our veins
venom is venom's cure

business is business

x communicates with y  
and z takes ten percent
it seems you’re always paying strangers rent
is pimp culture heaven sent - or can you send it back?
between the penthouse and the shack
the dealer’s wheels keep rolling back
and forward like an old zoo cat,
supplying the demand

and demanding the supply of bads and goods
to suit the stimulated cravings of the neighbourhoods
who might not but maybe should
watch the traffic for a while
the limo driver’s got a baseball bat
to help him establish that
business is business and that    is     that