I have set the
length of the sun
with my prevailing smile,
push me up like daisies.
I'm a fly in the ointment
of your purposeful gambit
I hear your marching song
a Panzer in every garage
you murmur my defeat
a banner at an altar
of fascism
my diesel engine headache grows
der Motor wird gewinnen
a wildebeest is in my cupboard

i don't read fanzines
i hold my fame to myself.

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
.

A Heart of stone
erupts into splinters
when acid sketchings
posits the fore.
Broken promises-barricades defences.

Yet truth is said to prevaciate musings.
When bright light is the signifier
Hope can conquer the doubt.

in the midst of springtime
i utter  your name
like a cherished Pray
I hang unto hope

picket fences
cricket on a Saturday on a vue,
bashful maidens drinking pimms
schoolboys stealing strawberries
and Swans swimming around and around

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

Dream yourself back in the 70s
have a thunderbird wine
and recall Soho
with their ***** mac brigade
Blondes grow galore
under the halogens lights
Stars they strike a memory
Ride a White Swan
a serious Yellow Ford Cortina mk 3
and a fine mettel of a DIY  Judo book
with your thousand island sauce
served at eel pie island

A cold smile greets my face
as the blue boy searches my soul
with an electric comb.
Now I am crying
because I no longer exist
as I have to sleep with
no Knowledge.

when our streets  are green again
the most natural thing you'd like to see
was Mr Fox invited to no 10 for tea
and hedgehogs drinking from
pristine watering holes
and the otter swimming canal upstream
Then we grow on love

outside wild children play in the woods
the lonely girl washes in blue light,
when she is gone
there is much bewilderment,
she offered so much hope in the allurement .

You are the silted canal,
whose willows have wilted in the quench.
I am the gregarious go getter.
You are the conservative burdened
by change.
I am the railway speculator
you are the bankrupt canal owner .

Trace the light
I will kiss your eyes
Keep the shadows at bay
Suffrage at the wait of dawn

There are seven wilted lies
that hangs by your smile
Doubt brushes
when you dream
Turns the Sun
in the curtain of your sleep

Eyes interlocked,
like a M1 car crash
this is the effect you have on me.
Your hips are perfect like a
manquerin,
your moustache like a cad,
but any bad boy behaviour
could lead to a discipline.

Like a rattlesnake
she said I can take you
to the last days of the Weimar Republic
I can show you discordance
or a decided lack of joy, (Mangel an Freude)
like a lizard's unoriginal tongue
her message conveyed doubt

Some teasers
What comes down faster a pound of feathers or lead
and can you tell the wood from the trees

Are you art worthy
Can I unlearn you
fortune unrenewed
just like a night in Leipzig

I've been to many photography venues,
the equilibrium of exposure
the trade-off between exposed light,
can't say I have made  any friends
just recommended some classic cameras
like the OM1 and Canon EF SLR
with different exposures.

Seen Dungeness twice
the first time was like early  Christmas
with a certain light quality
caressing the wooden huts and boats
but we don't have a Mediterranean climate here

Herbaceous borders way lay me
stopping for a singular rose
in the Weald of Kent
the garden of England
the native bluebells
blend in the palm of my hand

Down the Greensand Way in Surrey Dorking by Juniper house
Field studies council
I solemnly believe the simple things are the best
as is High Beeches Garden  in Sussex
an independent woodland and water garden

From the windowsill
with a plaintiff tell to tale
I saw the tired look on your face

Rain on your souls' side
Leaving you was harder
The vacuous circle is broken now
We wept to see our goals swept

Courage to last our cords
those warring ranting days
fade away
Don't take to the clouds
before you can fly

First and last,
don't push me around.
I may have lost my skint.
Caught taking aripiprazole.
My miracles of dimension in recess.
I waved goodbye to all that,
taking my logic for a ride.

All hail the hearty King.
A tyrant in the making.
A wisp of smoke
all driving small.

I espied a monster
and by the bay of the tree, it was me.
Venoms skin, like a delicate leaf
laughed and shook my hand.

Fortitude  for our heroes
Take them closer to the heart
They are as curious as a curate's egg.
To suffice the occasion
we exchanged a greeting,

Blushed from smiling,
our ears tuned into
eine kleine Nachtmuzik,
to prolong the duration
The morning piano enlivened
our souls.

come and enjoin in the procession
bear your gifts
and recite with wind chimes
See  the warring parties
scatter roses, inscribe love
youth against the beatniks ,
and lavish at our psychedelic suggestion.

Through the curtain of time
you disappoint me
Love is a cold bitter word
suddenly it turns its own pallor
I don't need the promises you made
yet time it obsessives my heart
Cant you see I'm miserable and blue
Please leave me
I may come home
but can't say when

Lord who giveth and taketh  our tears.
We are at your mercys flight
give us wisdom to stay strong and follow righteousness

The orange tulips had a short run,
you could ******* disappointment.
The daffodils hitchhiked life a little longer.
Spring came too early,
and confused the season
and now we wait for summers grandstand.

The ground seems to be heating up,
at times caught short by the morning airs.
The Bluebells their defy age,
Pale like wading, waiting to flourish
in the sometime soon

When you think about cracking an ego
You'll thinking of people's withstanding fortitude
Yet I'm tired of folks
and all their green tomato chutney sentiments

But lost in city road
Ones direction is awry
Asking profusely for directions
Everybody you met is friendly
Which goes against the grain

I'm an island to myself
Righting right from wrong
recessing the plates of your salad

who knows if a smile is really a frawn?
and if a zebra is a striped donkey instead?
who knows of white lies!
and the harm they do,
like a cuss  before the mornings
prayer!

Sometimes I go to Bexhill
on an Ironhorse
and visit Cooden Beach
with the occasioned tar in the sand
I recall the De La Warr Pavillion
Thought I was smart, smart not going

Train rides from Eastbourne
I Look for shipwrecks and Amaryllis's
Every day is a beckoning one
the one that got away
in deep water

Lady Marshmallow
in her thatch hut
scoffs at convention,
she remembers her past lovers,
and with her wax candle
she offers prized thoughts
for their spirits,
with her calico cat Emerald.

In the morning,
when you awake
wiping the sleep from your eyes
What do you think I see ?
A Myriad of problems forecast,
casting the eye of wariness
Would you rather base
your life on someone's else success?

You're inseparable as a Cheshire cat
that's graced us with her company !
And it rains and pours,
you stay indoors,
as the ducks find solace
in their new pond.

Say I was wise and different
who has three German penfriends
who only wrote in English
We write about photography,
be sent photocopies of Black and White montages.

I  own about  30 Cameras
cursed not to be photographic each day
searching on meetup for courses
Someone suggested West Brompton  cemetery
Tried Macro photography
Bon Soir to Landscape
I'm on the verge of a buttercup
prosaic in my newfound world

May God gave us belief
to follow his commandments
and give Nations his blessing.
May our hearts  receive
our earthly portion
and advance the glory of our Lord

A father returns to his birth country
and enjoins  the garden  route tour
from Johannesburg to East London by plane
we enjoyed our Koeksister biscuit on board.
On the road, we saw a Scottish man
with his native maid
sell tartan rugs in  the middle of nowhere
Then  to Plettenberg Bay my parent's honeymoon  abode
where we saw the August Whales at the lookout hotel
through the telescopic lens with a Canadian's Canon  F1  
The waitresses were no more than  16 years
laughing  profusely amongst themselves
We traveled to Cape Town
But I was in  no fit state to join another wine tour
I was “  moeg”  - tired   from the car ride

All the prayers were young and yellow.
uninformed  and adrift,
My marvel bust burst.
Yet I cried for all the nameless
on the narrow endless road.
My defences were shaking,
yet I still said hello.
A craven blackbird spoke volumes.
My moral compass presided over a rock and hard place.

It isn't easy to know
what to do with such unhappiness
I waved my battle plans at them
They paraded in their midnight striped pajamas
We decided it was a drew
Until they put bubble gum in my lock
I bleached their door mat
We agreed weren't good neighbours

Like a master coat
for all occasions
you wear your school colors well
yet when the gong sounds
you stand to attention
such is your inverse discipline,
of one so institutionalized
who cannot see the woods from trees

Learning Latin as a dead language
reflects the ethos of the school
- parrots at dawn
You feel you are wearing a straitjacket
when outside in the real world
and your dawn swims
don't inspire confidence
like salted caramel
as an after taste

Santa Claus was drunk that year,
and all his presents were soggy
no good cheer,
especially as his reindeers were booked for double parking.

The blazing summer gardens
makes him homesick for London.
Pure yellow daffodils, candescent poppies, sunflowers.
Flowers are essential.
They never have rage or conflict.
They are instinctive.
The National Garden Scheme,
offering carrot cake and coffee
for the followers.

The Tories  have devalued civility
Even the Met Police cannot escape this calamity
Admonishing channel refugees,
as if they were part of this disorder,
to be rudely awakened on an outbound trip to Rwanda
The aftermouth of Brexit seems to be a byword for a lack of humanity.

Rampant gangs in London.
****** mile in Croydon.
Social Service cuts are unwarranted.
The voluntary sector is the only thing plausible,
to pick up the pieces
when the social fabric
is so wantonly tight

I stood inside the ice palace
wary of the spiders from Mars
and all i heard on my ****** radio
was Space Odyessy
Then i stepped out in the sunshine
knowing all my dreams had gone
and the man who sold the world  was me

The unbridled duration of time
I'm stuck in Dorking for two hours
Time isn't fleeting
Instead I go to the library
and read Seamus Heaney
and admire his black currents on a tarmac road
Otherwise I do a raindance mid cycle
And reassess my needs duly

The glossy dancers swarm
vibrating against green theatre curtains,
visceral feelings
heavy heels worn.
They dance for purity
only second guessing heaven.

Cats are mystical  creatures.
Their moods are rangeful;
when its hot they plonk themselves
on your lap,
when its cold they sleep all day
Do they think it be better in the night?
And of course if you are afraid of them
they instinctively sit next to you
hoping you unlearn your fear !
A cat can never be a cliche
they are too cunning
its up to us humans
second guessing them.

Beneath dying  birches,
wild children play,
leaves fall through defiant sadness.
Empty mills observed.
Farmers sing and stags enter.
The ambivalent fire by the campsite,
blurred dervishes dance from a black wall.
Scarlet's laughter's a merry-go-round

Chocolate soldiers guard their quarry
Gunners chase their missive
peasants rejoice at the skinless drummer
The grateful dead count their symbols
as Mr Evasion turns to the light the looking glass looks jaded now

We eat our chopped  aubergine
and dinned on Safeway white wine
Croydon was like a civic jewel in the crown
We were the Manhattan of the South

We had our record shops Beanos and Cloakes
music was our soul
We had the renowned Fairfield Halls
saw Camel play there
and we drank with mirth
from the abundance of pubs

i like reading you enter a new world, of causes and consequences
it should be more popular than tv.

the bracken fields
fill with rainwater
the submerged cartwheel rots
as kale sways
in the outlier fields

After the languid storm
cold against the grass
winter beeches thrive
as the flotsam swirls by
the Riverside
fills their proverbial prose

Upon the West Lands.
Summer has long been spent.
The cold current of the ocean
brings the rain.
Piecing together the weather.
They have lost all hope
in better calms.

The haunting bones of the islands archipelago,
brings out the prospect of shipwrecks.
The still melancholy of moonlight caresses the fallows.
The plowed hinterlands echo beyond,
the boundaries of  saline drenched land defenses.
Celestrial sunlight is long gone,
as the gulls make their passage home.

I was in the audience when someone shouted Judas to Dylan for going electric.
I was near Paul Simon effected by the airs of dreary northern towns.
I was the ****** you smoked on bequest of some forgotten Zanadu.
I wrote the songs
you merely had to hum them.

A broken cup
an unfulfilled dream
Lunar butterflies in a ladies eyes
Tulips beauty undefined
an oiseau taking to wing

Golden Calfs tinkling of dew drops
A way to live
a way to lie
The rain falls low
and the wind rides high