Swallow pride,
nothing can remain
the same.
Rocky August,
the most capricious Month,
where lovers' break each others hearts
and sleigh down the proverbial slopes unbequeathed.

Soaked with lies
the arcaduim sighs,
listen to the falling leaves.
Ghosts will chase you,
winged creatures will crawl
(moving mountains with toil),
and you will find no relief.

From the windowsill lets feast on pea shoots
and chives
marvel at the paperwhites,
tall and slender with a magnificent perfume
and grow nepeta for our cat?

Why don't we call our flat Jardin?
so we may be associated with nature?

Let our first holiday be to Giverney?
the ardor will unfold your artistic eyes!
I could talk of hollyhocks for ages
They are like relationships the firmament
lasts forever of tendering

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

I wish I were a vehement wind,
lofting your hopes away,
tussling your identity under bed linen,
with their origins abruptly shelved

I wish I could torment you,
along a long path,
painting you a long frown,
under the glare of an expectant lunar surge.

touching your hand
is as near to heaven
I could wish for

Spring paints it's golden daffodils,
swathes of lavender from the cottage window awaken Lover's.
The morning blossoms.
The world pledges it's amen.

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

I only the wanted presents
to show you cared
bright  young shiny things
without a vacant stare

Why should you be good to me?
without counting the Peebles in your hand
Why should I exhale
your attention?

And now you've had your wickedness
Does that make me your gal?
Your bravado won the day
beneath the irksome mattress!

Who cares if Bolan misparked his Jeepster
or Bowie had his Norfolk Broads moment
Give me sophisticated mid 70s tin pan alley
rather than Glam
Overnight Sensation by the Raspberries
or January by Pilot
From Glee to a top Three
in one easy swoop

Records stand stiff with attention
some I wish to play,
if they ever get the attention of my stylus.
My friend many moons ago  made me mix tapes.
I called them treasure boxes although I was implying they wouldn't be listened to too much.
There is the truth we receive things but never warrant them enough attention.
Our minds are full of dust
unheeded cobwebs.

Distant star take me on a visiting spree
a time voyage
past the droll follies loitering the streets
with porcelain rogue and
immaculate tunics and shift dresses
where they all smile, ascertaing
to be daughters of artisans
but they are maladroit
and will lie for you
excessive in their
masters desires

Your smile has cracked
like a country mile
Your voice has not been heard
for a length of time

Reflected in the water
is your gaze
like a chased reynard
you're a spent force


What does the wind want from you?
wrapped up in your own world
Until you realize the blame was yours alone
dipping your fingers into the ash
playing sunlit with your future

Sing between the silence.
Eyes alone cannot identify the plenty  from the dearth.
The sky bobbles,
its another way of shedding time


Similies and metaphors
twilight each other.
Words are  just a woeful way
to express yourself
and at times a lark
The night is so full of platitudes
longer than your blink.

We used to have buttermilk
and Austrian white wine
from Safeways
and used to buy 2nd hand Prog records from Beanos
or see Budgie at the greyhound
The years have sped by
and I'm not recalling any standout shop now
Unless you include the durable Buddist shop
next to the once Hockneys
Toothless gaps in the town square appear
The Whitgift Centre is half empty
Samsung Mobile shop is closed
The years have not been very Kind
The sound of laughter is removed

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

when Jackie loved Jimmy
they played a neat sound together

Fabia the long distance of dreams
drew me to you,
share your promises with me,
and journey with truth
to the forests of the east
where maidens dance so freely.

I am winter.
You're sunlight.
I am pale skinned,
murmuring low.
You're olive skinned,
with a glow.

And it rains here,
with the soak of grass
between my toes.
Blessed  lichen mounding
on tree stumps.
The Magical sun ascends
upon the hill.
My soul is replenished.

Today I heard the dancing of the wind,
salty air upon my clothes.
I braided with nature,
like sandals and clay
forever in rhythm.

I'm as picqued as winter
and so let down,
you shouldn't leave me on my own.
Dyslexic's back story unreviewed,
a lack of recognition of your fellow beings feelings.
You didn't understand the part seconds
of the shutter speeds.
You were confused
and criticized your last teacher
although having no knowledge of the professed present.

it's nice to walk down Victoria Street
It still feels like an undiscovered part of London
It has a Waterstones bookshop
and an earnest small Waitrose
Yet the Public Library is elsewhere
There's clearly an Architects eye for design here
belatedly re-discovering glass
to compete with the nearby Shard
Around Strutton ground
there used to be a watchmaker
next, it will be the shoe shop
and then book sellers Oxfam
to vacate their properties

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

Down Sidcup they are planning mind games
without a safety net
We are hot desking
whilst under a railroad strike
We are going the long way to work
London Bridge is being redeveloped
The tension is brewing like a bout of typhoid
We are being punished for events
outside our control.
Its the survival of the fittest
the most local win
But some of us are tadpoles
out of our depth

The days drew in,
the shadows caress my face.

As the calvary of life goes by
hearts of frankness set me free

Who wants to know,
why the black crocuses don't grow

Behind the cascades of leaves
the bald Sun has to run and hide;
didn't you  hear its arrow rush,
For this is how things are.

Heard a song about you on the radio.
Its never too late to relate.
You were high willed and a bright orchid,
a contented yin and yang.
I could never leave you,
remembering when it all began,
you're were a friend of the band,
two-second snows from colorado,
from the moon, I fly you;
some kind of poet,
sealing her heart in mine,
breathe in you'll be the bay,
who put a rose on my cheeks.

A new emotion
over convent arches
rarified as time itself

Her fourteenth spring
long the ghost of childhood

What made her  shake and burn
yet gently unraveling
by a nearby teacher

The bulbs were Dutch pedigree
Narcissus Blue for a late Winter bloom

The Queen of consternation,
gadfly cries alone in her unmade bed
as love becomes an afterthought
its words trickling the soul

Blue and green, its skeletal throw over
shrouds Spring

Watch strap down
Do you think of dying when dancing?
It's true anyone can fall in love!
and break all the rules
that without love
we are in hell
Birds fly upwards
the sky was ravenous

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

I could say hollyhocks are a firmament
their palmate leaves abound.
From  my shuttered room with a single bed
and ginger-cat for company.
in a letter, I could  say I love you
with your cuisses pommelées
and shoulders held back,
walking in the snow
on a cold winter's night.
Hollyhocks I've been jealous
over certain girls  who parley  in French
the words of l' amour.

The rope seems hung
and the time spent seems present
Beware to balance the wire
and sight what we see above
of your changing seasons
so that we are acrobats of love
under travelled lights

They've taken away my mojo
Besmirched my living rhythm
The colors have run dry
one and one make three
Is there a catchment area?
Is there anybody to help me?

Autumn Days
stirring like moldy leaves
I have become a discounted man
Who will tend my overgrown garden?
I was brought to my knees
as I ran out of time
Why must everything fade away?

You are the past perfect picture
I took before the war
The frillitary of the dead follows:
hiding your grief up your sleeves.
I am gaunt with worry
like  waking the dead with love,
kissing them before they were gone.

I wrote pretty songs for you,
half expecting some applause.
Yet you walked away.
No sugar casing
just the improbable heart.

Rambling rose
longer than a summer's day
evenings out
A bright new start
like falling in love
White carnations
fabled tales
darting winds
covers the kind of love I have got for you

She came from the rising  star Jupiter
She lay in fields of marigolds
Seeing the future bright
a rapture of the heart
Her dream was bestrode manifest.
A case of a swan in the sunny climes

Searching for  the woodman
to espier an union
and produce a moon clad offering
to cherish as the dawns break
Jupiter rising

Buxom Alice dug her heels
into the soft yielding sands
at her craggy shack
she pulls apart dragonflies wings
Intent as a Man-Eater in the making
The scurrying Dormice exasperated

They  give us pennies for the years
we have spent
Everybody says they care
Yet cant wish away their tears
It was not hard to clamber
Speed the unconsecrated times
Seen so many chances fall from
clumsy hands
Glad to leave my youth
The river of us runs dry

Death is a whisper.
An ungallant coat of one hue.
Black as a lagoon, washing
souls in turmoil.
Oh flock of night,
children pray to offer the
banishment of light.

We the underscored
have come for our just desserts
meekly receiving our own rewards
It may not be pleasurable
what we receive
but with cuticled nails
and smarted suit,
let us wait profusely
for our undulations.
Our daily bread
this feeble feed.

White foam
temperamental tommorows
One more jour
Seagulls cross paths
The warp of sometimes
and the broken rhythm of shingles
till the dusk answers itself

Like a heavy trench coat
Death finds an ocassioned shoulder to rest on.
It's no use anticipating it.
That would gave it too much credit.

There is a wind in hell's chance
buried in voices in your head
before the war
the living and dead
A promise blind
as gentle as a two penny.
Johnnies smile, sweet enough to
make the young brides blush,
leading them through the tarnished avenue
Preacher man gave that boy a name
The promise is blind
see shamed guitar men run away

Miss Daffodil
cries all alone
the quest of youth gone
robbing me of what was mine
Forcing a smile
never a good word
makes life comfortable

So take your blinkered passion
with blushed eyes
and see your battered words
breezing in your light

Down the dusty lane
The Wind she calls my name
Good enough to count the sleeping hamlets
She puts a smile on my face
lit by childlike candles
Tidier with bloom
She unfettered my gloom
a gushing  bride

They masquerade as a Plethora of Businessmen
incorporating a bastion of QC's
with a palliative cure
to balance the books
and create wealth
the trickle-down effect

But instead of that
they return  us to Dickensian times
Soup Kitchens
Food Banks
and dwellings collapsable
North-South divide!
Have they really a Commission for care
or is it just inflation
a bufflers air?
an abdication  of feelers

where do you go to when you're old,
like being at Clacton in November,
the swirl of the waves conjoure Shangri-la.
Quelle surprise.
As the months go by,
the whole lot is thrown to the winds,
lost your allotment!
the young always get what they want,
but never appreciate  the waiting game
nor can you count on health every day,
just like your Lazarus cat for a nifty vets fee.

Harlequins have fated feelings
on the trapped excess of desire
fire the shot!
to wing a pray
and asunder to Caesar his scarlet remnants
Words on the scale!
Past King's emblems
shimmer way past
and  the subterfuge of romance
learns the price of nails
Judgment smeared by decree
a child's mystifyingly  cries

I am your stepfather
I saw your birth Mother's face
Scrawny and depleted
Never did I think this
would be a harbinger
for your finite size
I was told by the Vet you have
some Siamese lineage
Your intransigence
is at times too troublesome
Clawing me at the third stroke
but a Father always forgives his Son
Your eyes talk to me
with a haunting no comment
for any ascertainable question
I may ponder to ask you