Finance holds the town back
They've closed down the Milan Bar
and Currys moved out
Sing to the skeleton of a town center
carrying the deluged plough unto my ears
the promises of the councilors, prowl
towards helplessness

i am the raging truth
I've been ruthless for eternity .
i am father to a 1000 children
but  begot 100000 more,
what of all your dignity?
now washed on the shore,
i only safe unbelieving sailors
who one day lay in un- lamented  graves,
that i sanctify as my own

Struggling clumpy hydrangeas
unkept by design
Daffodils, appearing like clockwork
verte, emergent storks by decree

It's difficult being someone
It's hard sleeping
and understanding your dreams
Once I was a contender
presiding over an imaginary foe
I will smile when I find someone
it's almost time I kissed you

You're a southern guy
you've got a heart of gold
and all you got from me
was a tapered window
to espy
Lets try and see the day as a myriad creation

Conflating thunderous intentions
Give rise to the lies
A passion play for the undoing
Escapades termerity

Ruined cities
Shuttered windows strike again
Lonely recess
There is time for heroes still

Sometimes I feel like a mauve germanium
reaching for the stars
Tried hard to be pliable
Give me your all
and I show where I'm sitting

The Sun shone at the Moon
Don't worry about me
I've got all I need
the raddest sketchbook
to colour you in
just as before

Equally adept from 1978 and today
You're sturdy compact by design
A Nikkormat el platform offspring
Your size is influenced by the Olympus om series
A silicon meter for accuracy,
aperture priority
and a notch for NAI lens
Good for astro photography too

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.

Pale Sons move in  electric light
Their yellow hair brittle like straw
Contemptuous of time and place
Such an unceasing guise

i am winter
you are the stars
we trek across the hinterlands
wherever we go

Follow up at unhappiness
The sweet deadly rinse of decay
passing through chaos
A Windrush forest flame asures

I walk on the seashore
Through ordeals reign of pain
The deep sea canyons
To the ocean of despair
Those lonely contestations
Will fall away like confetti

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

Dance again
Enjoin your red lips to mine
You're cooler than a glass of water

Now the moon is ready
The unpainted green pains me
all alone
On borrowed clouds
Can't reach you but I try

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

Croydon
You ask me
how I should feel there are 14 vacant
closed shops in Croydon?.

A town that presides
over its last boom and bust
isn't worthy.
Still  The Councils "Brick by Brick"
the culprit
lays bankrupt
No management buyout yet!
as the rest of central Croydon
mushrooms not in office blocks,
but living quarters,
for the overpriced town center,
the middle class
who won't help footfall,
as they still buy online,
further depressing the same again
And the town is a big gush
with the wind and dust battering it.

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

The ****** for any Allotment holder
is harvesting Pumpkins with foliage
for October
with the clocks back
they'll relish digging over the soil
looking forward to another year

Meanwhile the Farmers markets
at Herne Hill and Dulwich
will set our retro-chic spiralling
a half loaf of brioche
and a Mrouzia Tajine purchased
amidst the newly penny conscious
"adequate provision" becomes the norm

Valentino was performing high fives
looking for the tried and tested for the night

A frightened lizard showed her reticence
whilst her brothers were rampant in their cravings
partying like  the last days of Rome

Let Peccano tell the truth
for once in his life
He could ungrow his nose
so he could follow  the nostrums

Never take the past for granted
Teletext scores at TV Rental Window shop
for Saturday 4.45 results
Queues as long as sentences
Then to a night showing at the Scala Cinema
With an impromptu black cat at your lap
and cans of Dutch lager
for false courage
Then a breeze trip to Bradford
inspired by the movie
Bob Sue and Rita too
Breakfast at Manningham Lane
and a Kylie Minogue cassette
at a musical market fair.

Your single shingle waysides:
is a  desert's outreach,
tiled orange tin shack,
your spiked garden, prevaricates.

Commercial photos are verboten,
only payment to the estate ensures.
Messrs and co got caught that way

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

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

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.

Hope-filled the vacuum
like an ornate snake
It bedraggled in its canopy
An insurgent Sun appeared
breaking the cold of the morning

The Horizon rang fitted and disparate
Then the cold elbow of twilight appeared
Hard and Dusky grey
like a thief's  errand

On an Archipelago
I place broaches and pins
in a wooden box
And lay a translucent lichen box for you
Somehow the fledging seagulls
Will seek your precious door

Up with laughter
down with sorrow
I will wait till tomorrow
to see the seasons change

Stop being intellectual
you need to follow the horde
Their platitudes won't hurt you
Then find a  bucket of joy
Tease your way home
by the Autumn river

Beyond the sweltering light
the broken colonnade of
scrapped Cheviots drifts away
Soon the rusted barbed  wire
will be swallowed  by the evening hues

The solitary hummingbird
bathed in indigo light
faces down the feral cat

Only a tentative song
expounds the legend
that defeat never was an option

chastising  yourself in aggravation,
your fingers grow stiff,
running out of time,
from the meanderings of convention.
Tall in November dusk,
without any brevity.
How you dwindle
into the sunlit fields

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

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

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.

I'm cleaning the kettle
counting daybreaks
and igniting my heart

I throw a brittle stick
into the blackness of the garden
and let you into a secret of mine

I don't look like my Mother
I'm Cinderella instead
an outlier  sibling
a decorous counterpoint

Teremerdity drawing Razorblades
The arch angels have turned asunder
Realisation is incomparable
In velvet diaries wantonly kept
Unkempt Man faces his disclaimer

The flowers were  Dutch pedigree
Narcissus Blue for late Winter

The Queen of contestation
gadfly cries alone in the kitchen

A Silhouette glances at the ravenous trees
as love becomes a specialization
its words tickling the soul

Blue and green, its skeletal throw over
shrouds Spring

when it shines i daydream about Minia
and I retrace her footprints,
blessing where she stood
on silver threads of love,
still tasting her aroma.

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.

Acrobats dancing wily
Let the wild men adopt another view
Take my friend and me for a ride
withholding the answer
After all
it's vainglorious
Quite alone I emoted
so bequeathing quietude
that we so wistfully call peace

Rivulets of well worn hope
comes sliding down the bannisters
I put on my classeless smile on
I breathe the air of cigarette defiance
And I know I'm poor and mad
Like scrapeless flakes of snow I follow

He gifts them Summer fields
and even fetches them twilight sun
stinting over rows of trees
where fireflies hover
and in the midst of the paradise
you realize his regimen is familiar
he has already sent multitudinous pals
adorned in grey and tarnished buckles
into red blood poppies
and vortex craters filled with iron oxide
no greater love than the scarred sacrifice
to perfect his own dusk

Your ribald sword fades
from view
All that was strong hangs by a thread
My poetry lives just to please you
My song to start the day

My thoughts fjords your armoury
Your eyes are like oceans
My life proceeds your being
Surrender to the wilderness

It seems so hard to carry on
War in Europe, inflation, monkeypox.
I would rather live in the past
and shop at the Co-op,
for their community fund purposes
and uber polite staff.
And of course, I go to the Isle of Wright for a day trip,
again to live in their 90s  past
about 20 years behind the mainland,
and I'd buy a Yashica kyocera 230 AF
so I can snap in kodak black and white,
in manual  metering only,
oh the rivalry  of being retrospective.

I want to be lazy
down  to my shoestraps,
see the jackdaw
scrounge my sweetpeas.
If you cast a spell in my direction
I'll be surprised.
Each night I dream the nectar of sleep
and by sunrise I'm trice arised

What kind words can we use?
Kindly years  Kindly Sir, Kindly dream?
Where there is no kindness
there is only referment

The ordinary never forgetting days
slips through my palms
like salted brine

After the rain
a pale anemone shies
over the convenient ashes of remorse
yet dreams are for losers
and waylaid journeymen

A miniaturized Panzer unit has just
terrorized my lawn
The Parrot has escaped
and the cat ominously reappears
I have introduced two holidaying friends together
I need a better day
"Off with the old, on with the new"
Should I actualize with a change
so I can tend my Mulberry Bush
I wink decidedly

When I wander among the swathes of  Bluebells
I am minded of a  nascent  variety
creeping in amongst our beloved ones,
Spanish shifts of hue
in the Weald of traditional  Kent.
I swear some sad maid
riding on a basket bicycle
scattering new seed
how unpatriotic!

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

Tiptoe through turquoise longues
curtain nets a  twitching
Ladies faces wistful
maybe tomorrow change
I am the breeze
cool as peaches
Houses were seen for miles
your eyes belie them
Me my friend

In the supernatural sphere,
down London Road
cheek by jowl,
the angel of death pontificates.

Beyond its parlor,
the old subterfuge of death,
languishes in this netherworld.

Untouched by conscience.
Our apparition stands by the silver moon,
self-crowned and wearing the also run
upending the praying soul.

The past doctrines of survival,
half barrelled,
speaks its own enormity.

Hello this is my poem
the one I sneaked on my mobile
whilst inspired by a journey to work
There was this impressive man
who exceeded the apex of my dreams
but I could never slay the sartorial dragon for him
my poetical vocabulary was too low brow
These arent my bouts of normal surrender
Yet there's never enough understanding
shown by my fairweather peers

Is this still a Park
or a crime scene
Is that derelict library
where we used to read at
Is that a cry of a bird
or something more anguished