Agent Provocateur

Hot Summer night in Paris
Shadows of the Champs Elysee
Nervous little man in a Homburg
Knows just how much is to be paid
Laundered American dollars
Small bills all wrinkled and worn
Killer microdot on a cheap fountain pen
Lightening bolt in a perpetual storm

And some maniac from the Third World
Will die in his sleep tomorrow night
And his fee will be spent on five-star hotels
And other worldly delights
Oh, the man in the kid leather trench coat
Knows only drugs exquisitely pure
And he goes by one name in the underground
Agent Provocateur

Crowded hashish parlour in Katmandu
Two men look slightly out of place
One man twitches like a nervous cat
The other holds a stone silent face
And both know well the implications
Of the guarded words they speak
The request is made in Moscow Russian
The acknowledgement in guttersnipe Greek

And somewhere on the coast of New England
A stash of heroin is planted inside
The wall safe of a bright young senator
Who’s stunning future must be denied
And the man in the black silk Armani suit
Knows who must die and who must endure
He holds the key to so many doors
Agent Provocateur

He never carries a gun or a knife
He never writes anything down
He never leaves a hint of his history
Let alone where he might be found
And he’s loved a thousand beauties
These past thousand nights to be sure
He could destroy us all with a well-placed lie
Agent Provocateur

A strip joint in Frisco Chinatown
Where the women strip right to the bone
Where any pair of strangers in the hungry crowd
Can always be completely alone
Where envelopes are exchanged in the dark
By men who ask no questions at all
Where discretion and fear are the names of the game
And any slip can mean a deadly fall

And somewhere down in Venezuela
A cache of M-16 rifles disappear
And some Latino puppet is targeted
For guerrilla ambush later this year
And the man in the light sunglasses is sick
With a disease that has no cure
And he’ll live like a King in this jungle of sin
Agent Provocateur

He never carries a gun or a knife
He never writes anything down
He never leaves a hint of his history
Let alone where he might be found
He’s crippled more men than the
the mediaeval plagues
He lives so fast and so sure
But his Karma will lead him to hell someday
Agent Provocateur


Jim Murray
Jim Murray
I have been a writer since the age of 14. I started writing short stories and poetry. From there I graduated to writing lyrics for various bands and composers and feature-length screenplays, two of which have been produced. Early on in my writing career, I discovered advertising. While the other media have drifted in and out, communications writing and art direction have been the constant through a 20-year career senior positions in Canadian and multi-national agencies and a second career, which began in 1989, (Onwords & Upwords Inc), as a strategic and creative resource to direct clients, design companies, marketing consultants and boutique agencies. Early in 2020, I closed Onwords & Upwords and opened MurMarketing which is a freelance strategic development/copywriting/art direction service for businesses working to make a positive difference in the world. I currently write long format blogs in 4 different streams, encompassing, entertainment, marketing, and communications, life in general, and the renewable energy and recycling industries. These are currently published on I have, over the years, created more than 1500 blog posts. I live with my wife Heather in the beautiful Niagara Region of southern Ontario, after migrating from Toronto, where I spent most of my adult life. I am currently recovering from spinal surgery and learning to walk again.

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