Some Sad News: David_Macleod

for David Macleod, who gave me the idea

“... about two dozen movies a year feature a mad killer going berserk ... Some have a little more plot, some have a little less. It doesn't matter.” - Roger Ebert

The shelves of my ideal Blockbuster store
are colourful with clamshells painted to
entice the buyer, unwary and gore
loving, hoping to get his fill of grue.

What nuclear holocaust
of taste
and talent
and simple cohesion
is our hero to find
in those haunted clamshells!

Those cases holding black boxes
of whatever could be restored
using a half-assembled script
and full-baked actresses.

Actors the likes of which you’ll see
in Hollywood one day,
but more likely
gone gay-for-pay
or just nowhere at all.

Seeing this motley band
trying to cobble stories out of mulch,
fantastic lands or grim slashers,
they’ll take your tropes and try, o try,
o really truly try,
to recreate them with a budget of
sixpence and string.

Horror, fantasy, sci-fi,
they’ll try and fail at ‘em all,
let loose upon
the garbage heap of old
and overdone ideas,
and ones that just should not have seen
the unforgiving light of day.

Which isn’t even mentioning
the pseudo-Freudian horrors,
the plain moronic notions of
sex and sexuality. Sanity
so far behind the plot
I can’t even be offended.

My heavenly Blockbuster
abreast a passing cloud
will guide you through the wreckage of
mankind’s creative urge.

 He had the face of an angel
he smiled and winked his eyes
raised his eyebrows, gave a sigh
He had the face of an angel

A glowing light shone round his face
no darkness near him, not a trace
He had the face of an angel

He had a look of wisdom behind his eyes
no need for singing lullabyes
He had the face of an angel

He looked at me, my heart swelled inside
A special bond which couldn't be denied
He had the face of an angel

I felt his heartbeat next to mine
I felt his breath, I saw him shine
He had the face of an angel

I held him tight, he didn't cry
Despite he knew this was goodbye
He had the face of an angel

I held his head, he breathed his last
one hour of life, his life now past
He had the face of an angel

Lifeless he slept, as I cuddled and cried
though life had gone and breath expired
He still had the face of an angel

Still, he wouldn't no hate or fear or rejection
Reincarnated one last time on his way to perfection
He had the face of an angel

His eyes, his smile I'll never forget
his tear on my cheek was not one of regret
He had the face of an angel


I'll never forget, I know I never can
my son who would never have to be a man
But he had the face of an angel

I then looked up and saw her pain
her face all wet from the eyes that rain
She had the face of an angel

She smiled, winked her eyes
she raised her eyebrows, gave a sigh
She had the face of an angel

I knew her loss, I knew her pain
I knew I loved her just the same
She had the face of an angel

We sit in peaceful quite at night
and remember his face in that glowing light
Our Son, with the face of an angel