the prophecies will not be fulfilled

i see this now with clarity

everything is clear to me

the blood was not rich enough

too much sun too much

sun i must make my bat smaller

more compact weigh it down

it is too light i will

reinvent the game

jon bon jovi comes to mind

i met him once in a dream there is a

spring in my step i will

move at speed across my crease

no the direction does not matter

only the leap itself

and the arc of the bat as i move

as i leave the ground the angles will

ideally be acute there is a figure

coming towards me i believe i have

been expecting it father i was

expecting someone else

i am feeling sharp

willow blade i will

pierce the field a dead burro with

a double puncture mark in its neck

the infectious beat of latino-pop a very

small cow you are my son

michael its your own

dad mick there is this lowing

in my head that wont go away

i am a blade of grass

the cattle speak to me they are wise

like the seagulls that sweep across

my vision as i stare up into the sky

for hours on end if only they had built

a roof over headingley this is a very good bat

i am zorro a jedi i am not untroubled

things are not at all as i had imagined them

one day my innovations will be appreciated

i am ahead of my time

the world is not ready

i must revert to using a

straight bat this is very hard for me

i have been places that have not

left me unchanged i have seen the cotswolds

i will never use a straight bat again

father i will never use a straight bat again

i will change the face of the game

tap dance around the chimneys

i will sleep in my coffin by day

i will drink only the blood of the aristocracy

it is weak blood and it does not satiate me

it barely serves as food for my bats i need

to be on edge

i will be an example to the children

jackie chan bono no not him

i can not stand the company he keeps

i am tortured

by the threat of fascism i am

finding it difficult to concentrate

i am a little confused as to where i am

and what i am doing i have a burning desire

to clasp in frustration at my forehead

and rip out my hair my hairline must recede

i will be distinguished

in all that i do

i will not let the kids see me with lines of blood

down my chin i admire robbie williams ich weine

mich die augen aus i can not

come to grips with any of this

i have forgotten what i was going to say

i am a cow like nietzsche before me

i have immense thighs and the butchers

keep cutting pieces of flesh from them

it is lucky i have learnt to regenerate

it keeps me lithe and leaping about

i do not even remember the pain

it is plain to see that my back lift

is all wrong everything is moving

at cross purposes i no longer know which

direction is north there are forces pulling me

toward the dressing rooms

that i do not begin to understand

yet i have no idea in which direction they lie

i wander the suburbs

spit in the face of stephen waugh dig

my fangs into his calf

he only wishes he was me