Croydon you're a ghost ship
boarding on the isle of ridiculousness
Erecting flats for millionaires
social housing a swept away issue.
Alas there's your North South devide
Can the Town planners rectify  the polarisation,
that's sees only Tory and Labour
with no third party mooring the agenda.

The school girl espies her teacher
from the Art room studio.
She wished that she was her Mother,
for she had blonde hair and green eyes
and excelled in kindness,
reminding her of blossom apples
The girl remembers this later in life
posting it as a monochrome Memory.
It seemed a quantum leap  
wishing for the impossible
to change Mothers.
The grown girl looked lovingly at her Mothers photograph
smiling from her care home,
for gentlefolk with dementia.
It was no quantum leap.
We are the Sum of our Parents
her Mothers mind danced amongst
Picket fences, keeping out the poultry
The sum of one's quest.

Death is a fornicator
A ransom note for the disposed  
whose banner is waylaid
along the dusty road.
The Valiant are shorn of hope
as an immortal fog chastises
their very existence
mishappen and duly noted
Hope can no longer bloom.

Autumn is the priest of pride.
Her shadows lifts a gentle fragrance
that farmhands duly celebrate.
The coffin makers drink a sweet nectar
that lifts their souls.
The milkmaid idolises memories of her first  love.
August is this flame

Do you still hope for your school days
when a smoke was just for laughs
and sweet heart  pledges were written in chalk
and picket fences kept the sheep
away from the cabbage patch the teachers carefully planted

The randomness of rain
as it splashes on worn shoes and frayed  collars.
Wet in Lewisham the streets awash
with promises of  heartache.
A wind without a name,
commences a distant roar of thunder.
The Police siren follows a path
beating down to the Silent Whisperer
a man with no grace
to a steet arcade
outlasting redevelopment
His fists clenched
as to show his anger to the world beyond.

Once when you were young
you never had the chance
to be like normal  children
they scuffed your knees
turned martyrdom into a sport
as you were a diagnosed dyslexic:
very much cocooned
often aristocratic in pedigree.
TV became a refuge
a mechanical nanny !
Away from the special school down Brent.

The family car drove to North Wales
You said there was better scenery to be had on TV.
This moulded and shaped  you.
Saturday afternoon matinee on BBC 2
an added bonus
sometimes glee,  others slapstick humour.
One should curtsy to your droll  disposition
hold in high esteem.

THE WAYFARER FINDS
HIMSELF, IN DEEP WINTER SNOW.
THE BARRENNESS OF THE COUNTRYSIDE PROVIDES NO COVERING LIGHT.
SCATTERED HUTS ARE IMPOSSIBLY WINDOWLESS
LIKE SOUL'S PREVARIGATING WITHIN
GUARDED SILENCE
A death wish is anything but fun ~
Santa Claus

Had a coffee today
it unquestionably feeds an urge to be an addict
The sun shone brightly  and  made  me feel
the forthcoming weather would be harsh.
My freckles showing like a garland
The flowers down the street were in bloom
Yellow Irises capture a  certain light
as I pass  by

A land where words fail to convey
any sense of retraction,
or fey smiles conceal their inner  menace
are indeed genuine subterfuge;
trust can never make a forge
it only posits draws and daggers.

The ducks are skimming in the water
as if to acknowledge the photographers,
they singularly preen their wings
doing what is natural,
not for show or curtsy.
The photographer looks awry
disappointed
no big game or gain
just an under estimate of life as pedantic

Those weren't  kind words,
better  suited to bedsitter land.
Never thought I needed
to be a hermit for anybody,
or suffer potted noodles.
I stay with my estranged folks
for the time being,
reside in my room,
listen to rock music.
After all that's what problem adults  do,
somehow present themselves as impossible and proverbially
be sent to Coventry on their own behest,
which is not the same as scattered in
mouse land however you call it
.

Earnest is not a surname.
It's a deep rooted feeling
that's vein like
in its underscore.
How many times can it grap you
triffle with your cares;
berate you for thinking sorry,
often for a circumstance not of your own making.
Earnest can't stop one worrying
it prides itself on efficient woe

Your friends decried your darkness
was it just their shadow schemes
that somehow peered  beyond their call

In the morning will you still
remember her name ?
Though she had smiled,
not unlike the thoughts you left behind,
it was never for you.
Button up the realisation,
you were not meant to be company.
Only the fragment of night can alter change.
Being alone is sadder by the day
it shudders then echoes,
even the white of  your  eyes
are listless.

Have you seen us for what we are -
dusty emblems of something greater,
just remember a water diviner chased a ghost river
seeing  hope for some lost vista.
Ashen pale we have since become
who've only known forgotten whispers,
rued through thickets conjured
from our minds eye, 
falling amongst the sirens, bells and whistles.
The actual dissolvent  is shying,
recalling that rod that beat the back of yonder,
to the merest glimpse  where it had gone wrong

Every wrong word
said on a mission
startles the receiver.
Every right word
said as a consequence
startles the giver.
I cry alone into the night
figuring what was right

Said the Trapeze artist to the Ant Hill dweller.
I besmirch your insignifance,
for I am a mighty gust
a body floating celestial,
can stampede you unwillingness
to move.
Teasing your respone,
somehow making you prone.
To meet whatever Father you have?

Do you think being poisoned
helps or hinders the arguement
I'm off to buy some Coffee
Think well before I Come back

You entered a career  and grow with success.
You've become somebody
well respected,
carrying a banner of pride
your hobbies identified you,
never thinking this is borrowed time.
Your trust in yourself was impervious,
despite an event that had been building
lititle by little
like lit matchsticks slipping out of your hand,
onto a inflammable floor.
It's called an anxiety attack.
like a cat scratch it didn't amount too much when it noxiously came
but when you avoid the third train to work
panting like an out of breath player,
forcing yourself to stand amongst a group of yelling school kids
you already sense the nothingness
you've underplayed in your mind.
Arriving at the station
you want to double back
take to a station bench, admitting something wrong.
Forcing yourself to work
uttering the famous words
I cannot do this.
I'm heading for a breakdown.

Listen to the fallen,
gusts of wind
every one of them.
Once bright buttons
who hid their fear.
Now listen to the burgle
blowing the carrion call.
A dance with death
caught them unawares.
Rows and Rows of poppies
bloom alongside the scared land
this sulphur stretch
a magician once  dreamed of.

Sorry, is never really a strong enough word,
to disguise the hurt or pain caused.
I'm just deadwood going through some negativities.
It's unfair I've loaded this on you,
even if we're in a long relationship.
I wish to set you free.
return you to the calm
as a pupa before the metamorphosis.

Gerry dances the lights till dawn
beneath Blackpool illuminati
He didn't feel this way before
until he had a proactive in good time

Should I dance a promise,
half remembering ones left unsaid.
If for one night I had a banquet,
should I undo those last chances,
dancing on your grave
with slithers of that champagne glass..

Will I ever find another you?
where do I search for my Hampshire muse?
your flowing red hair forever autumnal.
We walk the New Forest
you show me the language of glistening leafs,
the ripple of streams cascade,
where wild horses drink.
Togetherness by the runes.

There won't be many holidays to Europe  for sometime.
Calais the  gateway is the folly of despair
it's effectively the death knell for a Europe  good feel factor
thats why United Kingdom holidays are  adequate,
there's enough time to start as soon as possible,
sans health insurance,
We've got our  National Health service at the ready,
good  hygiene for restaurants and hotels
with enough burgeoning coffee venues
to blow a trumpet.
Love the clouds and the greenery,
longing to return to Ludlow
their restaurants are renowned.
Otherwise,  Hampshire, Derbyshire  you name it
history, tradition, local accents
Who needs Europe ?
We're free in our own paradise.

Ashen cheeks close near, now far.
Time broken on the bedroom floor.
Husband is a bore
hush his mouth,
no etitique or ground rules;
the truth must prevail.
I could never be his baby doll
wearing his cheap ring.

Think  again and contemplate what will happen to my friends who are staying over for the next day or so.

The only thing that you should get involved with is issues with yourself


Nothing's worse than being a bossy Manchester girl trying to move in
trying to steal my friends.
We have enough problems
without a home grown rash.

That nobody editor from Leeds
she thinks she can tell us
who should write the garden reviews
She likes to think she"s backbone of the society
she's a townie from a town
too small for its yolk.
One day I push her into some thorny
spinoza
that be a gadfly for her big mouth

There's less opportunity for analogue cameras thesedays
what has this century done for us?
Slide film is diminishing
its a niche market for the fast buck.
Instead its digital pixels rather than steadfast grain.
But I'm laughing most cameras are actually mobile phones,
an indelicate breakout of self love presides,
lost to the instant world of media
Facebook and twitter are the price draw
for me too media savvy
Clearly creativity died somewhere.

Rebecca  likes to  tread in Hampstead Heath's duck pond.
She's got her white leather boots on.
Impervious  to the green scaly algae.
One of inherited wealths important players,
her lightning decesions have consequences.
Md's are expected to decide
if it was her breech birth
that led to her revolutionary esprit
Her moon cycles will miss someone,
equally as caring
but conditioned to good behaviour.
Is heaven toast in bed after a fight
whose to say who is right?
but finding your own class is neigh impossible these days

The wind ushers its own hymn
pitying your limbs turning numb
We exist only with express permission
of fate granting a fair chance
icicles et all.
The ravenous bear cave
isn't as hospitable
as we rendezvous the storm

I squeeze the last of the toothpaste,
well within my rights to be confounded
where does the time go ?
Only last night my paracetamols
where within a month of expiry.
The crux of the matter
office space is a premium
the lastest snag is hot desking,
early starts for the morning-
tired, tired so unnaturally.
I never seem to get the shopping properly done,
too preoccupied winding down for bed,
a cycle is emerging
my long life milk needs replacing.

Illy cofffee served  down herne hill market
the staff this week seemed different.
Pullens restaurant stripped
to be refurbished,
the mandatory space optimiser
a flat at the back.
We read the planning permission notice
and realise space is a premium
Meanwhile people are so incidental.

Too much uninvited post.
The time comes for shredding,
yet that's only a start
you soon tune in to all those warts,
dormant VHS videos seldom played
space issues big as brevity,
now binned to the garage
their space filled with the
next expiry
compact discs.
Lessons never learned,
the extended vinyl collection grooves storage is a premium
My flat is like  origami
it folds with the repercussions.

That Prakita annual from 1975,
trying so hard to make me feel
they could produce Britt Ekland
in every page.
But I recall the life cycle of Cameras
remember Miranda
not many  do ,
but I'm told she had a unique mount.
But again I'm no looker
just a resolute plain rangefinder 
running through the generations

"Oh no its not you again",
the spider combing through my hair,
acting like you couldn't care
turning my blonde hair
into  strands of straw,
so you could see me
cry and crumble


Only this morning when I had
my hot compress over my eyes.
I imagined a half formed image
of a Roman's eye socket.
I was frightened and could only
think that 1961 Photography annual
was to blame.
Catacombs of Rome
turned through and through,
oh black and white images
can be so visceral

Rapidly I opened my eyes
trying to regain some semblance

Crowded trains and incognito inspectors.
Neverdays happens all the time now.
It's a travail for the birthright few,
seeing changes
disneyland for newcomers
all our labours their turnaround
free movement.

By the border
they drink cactus  wine
breathless
outdoing   each other cussing their own Mothers
they tell poignant  stories  for a few guineas
on their first and only  loves
before they became tramps of sorts
profusely  coughing  up
nobody wants them mow

Burden street,
wish wash
Newcastle  rain,
The gust cuts
to the bone
Ghosts avail themselves
to street corners
eye sockets ,
holes with grey light
speak of the tedium
the porosity of meek

The girl's  going  to  Michigan
staying with her family.
Please  no Hershey bars
we're quaintly  English,
an island race
of  fascinating climes,
so  no Atlantic  conversions
to the new axioms.,
Learn to  love tea again
persist with under statement
and  long live  queues

Arctic baby, keep your furs  on
this is  no  bikini ride.

Its  I who has  to hush you
telling  this is  no invite  to  Cuba

Mountain sleigh why  cut marks
like your  stilettos heels

Just  count  the  self opportunities
unswore the  star  dust

Smell the  cedar and  cinnamon incense
burn a  candle  wholeheartedly

Glad you got some fennel
from the Sunday market,
it's delightfully culinary
it look good in the alleyway.
Your  neighbour is spot on
there's a profusion of  scaffolding
in the street.
she jokes maybe subsidence ?
But  it's more,
keeping up with the Joneses;
spending as a reflex action.
People are as elevated as busy bees
Activity, activity,
idleness can turn us into tripods,
staying still, is no good.

Do you like Biltong?
will you buy it from the  market ?
Can you trust its hygiene ?
Is the rain a  bother for you
its been most unseasonable of late
or are you happier for your garden ?
At least the cat's  going to see the  vets on Monday,
shes  not been herself lately.
Sunday  is still  fine
all important  questions are  in the open

In the artefact of Dreamland, resurrected wooden rides
hope for countless  bookings,
though the  drunks  
still come to the  Mechanical  Elephant
for their morning well-being.
Buyer beware
cameras with broken  meters are displayed
from the last camera shop
We are witnessing  the flaming of the sands
that  still remembers  Mods and Rockers
with a montage of photographs at the train station's entrance
including two girls
tearing each others hair out,
ominously welcomes the expected arrivals
from the four corners of the social,
making this as exciting
as a  holiday weekend in Hither Green
without the sea.

Cameron is apologetic
having packed his bags,
he has opened a new museum
dedicated to Macmillians government.
Bring back national economic planning.
Every region is uniquely fired.
Hull again  a major fishing port
our Royal Navy guatds our fish stocks,
King Coal to fuel our power stations
Visas to come to the UK
it's a priviledge not free movenent.
Draw bridge's up
we remain an island
rather than an  economic zone

In an oasis
where gentle families go
a cafe where modern life is overhead,
an American Father unconvincingly tells
his youngsters this is a gender neutral country
his missus is silent.
A lady is on her laptop
whilst deftly handling a mobile.
This talks of  marketing
making a niche.
Her fortune assured, sitting amongst
the yummy mothers
a mini boom of sorts

Could we ever communicate again?
when you said you didnt like
"Come to Me"
the orchestration was annoying!
Is it my place to say
you cannot love the sky
and yourself at the same time!
Perhaps you've changed
are you bothered by coolness
So you tough it out?

In this void I question serenity
gazes are treated as lances,
even freckles are friendless
such is the self;
a bouquet of inward reverence.
Ashen is  this dayglow world
the past is pictured fairer
yet surely are we culpable
to be led so astray.