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

Desperate Dan kissed Linda Liu
and the Moffat brothers went in hot pursuit.
Rita Redford had seen it all before
that dog pained look for Liu,
although she's never had her two cents of love herself
heres her chance
to smooth and balm
poor Dan's unwilling lesson.
the plainer gals are steadfast
their roots  are manifest
they know how to tame those tempest hearts

Crooked widows like to bat
when the moon is high.
Under scoreboard asylum
they sip Ceylon tea
and scoff invisible buns
laughing at first love,
long after they realised
Cricket beats creases

The Red fox
with cool devotion,
moves around in circles
it is brisk in its actions,
blackened grass permeates the ground
it scorches the Savannah
The sullen waters lap around,
tall lillies of sleep,
angling out of sight.
The fish glitters performing somersaults,
captive in the air.

Red haired girls always
seem oxygen starved
it’s like they've played hockey
for too long
or ran after their marmalade cat,
into the coal cellar,
after they had enough of  Miss too perfect

Oh to be brunette .
Toujors a different visage
somehow more autre,
strongly self reliant.
Cannot  believe their promises.
forever planning another
perfect  weekend  ahead

Engels extolled the height of manners
still I would've liked  him to trans Europe permanently
He was such a dampener scribbling
midnight fury
on the oxide of causation
still he starched his collar,
not realising he persists Karl
to upstage Darwin on Capitals demise

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

Arise the  knight  in your teddy bear,
laugh at  Mr Benn and  Top Cat
for you want to  be a soldier,
crossing  swords,  
crashing with all the dislikers;
fellow children finding serenity
in simplicity
but you hold rose thorns
so that they spear you
to greater deeds

Between the space of nothingness
your narcassistic  streak speaks
to my sincere wish to scratch your face,
almost to imperfect you.
You look tired venturing for a fall.
but otherwise you hide it well,
that arty look and swept back hair
there is no other love than your own
drown and follow your cause 1975

He offered her a song
in hope of a  reprieve
Her four poster was like the
sails of a ship
uncertain in progress.
For he was uncharted wooing such a heart
Would she breeze over like Canada
or provide merriment like wagtails in spring.
A tightrope on this and that,
eggshells for apology
get it right boy.

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.

I spoke her name over country lanes,
as though her deeds could  be spread
by telling the sky
Rebecca was the bravest woman;
for she told her Chieftain their children
would never fight for wrong
nor blooden the loam
I felt this was my soliloquy
unaware if association became culpability.
Solemn days linger when I recall
this stand  turned compassion into a quarry.
An exile matched by deeds,
forfeiting liberty
an early grave to put her dreams to.

Tories are running for their primms
Indian summer of their wilted reign
Twelve years of spreading marmite
Child Q to Rwanda
London Police in special measures
The fabrics of civility collapse
as the spiders enmesh us
within their web of lies

I drowned in a metalic pool.
Yet needing more varnish
each coat felt like sub polar pain.
I sought dying like a goaded swan,
yet out shone by my newly acquired nail polish
still possessed enough attraction
even in surrender,
to brush your ergo

I'm  listening to Saint Saens
on the radio,
enjoying peach liquor.
The clouds are celestial bodies
they rain when I weep,
the smell of the hollyhocks
is immaculate.

Up tempo here and there
dating another mans ex
holding her hand.
Azure skies to grace
that connection
eye contact on initial met
then sunny walks
duplicate it on tracing paper
each other's smile
under hanging pergola,
as connected as a walk
under pagonala
your smile broader than the
erstwhile yesterday

ramshackle emotions linger on in buildings
permissible tears stain window sills
the white lady admits mea culpa
she's untrained but in need of love
azure dreams will follow
but never can she be a tiger
her flame is stronger

you're too average to marry Meryl Streep
you should use a razor rather than a shaver
too cheap to get out of bed for €10
but at least you've got Leeds
for a cheap bed and breakfast

i stand by the wind, stirring eddys
in the river
I proclaim I am unloved,
a penny not to rub together,
tomorrows my birthday
and all my Delphininuims have faded.

I think of you hitting your stride,
yellow Datsuns
Teach yourself judo,
Sun blast skies and a blue gust
of sea air
The practical willingness to self improve,
may have made us miss it
so I'm reminding you
what you breathed
doesn't necessarily ever have to end

Purveyors say they may return
but have I turned my back on caution
as my star dims
commencement ends in pyres ,
the flames speaks from within this indelible truth,
a manifest has not been written
ill suitability steals around.
Whatever I sought
was the applause from tired hands
as my pen is often too.

I am wilderness set out in stone
a journey never taken to its end.
You were hope and a wayward glance
remembering all that was cast.
(is paved with good intentions)

Mr Snodgrass was an unrepentant  man,
he wanted  nothing more than a house mouse.
He laugh at her trainers,
telling they subliminally showed
she was uncreative.
He doesn't need twine
he plans to be provocative.
After intentionally brushing her cheek in the dark
she lower her head
and seem to take on his burdens.
She dye her hair sun red,
and wear a Ra Ra skirt to please.
Bare footed taking a few strides outside
to instinctively repair the mesh for the chickens

its the civil service as we know it
counting blocks of years
for a gold plated pension methinks
and watch before your eyes
the transgression of the soul
taking orders on rank Mondays
and progressively suffocate till Friday
week and year once over again.

Aliens disguised as Englishmen
proclaiming their right to be roast beef
and a Boers inalienable right to shoot at him

English village timed out under a cloud,
questions asked of strangers
and their intent.
Bubble wrapped in picteuresque hue,
comical telephone box book exchange
a pub's  wall smothered in New Music Express pages,
forever expounding the 1990s.
The wildlife park pervading
through the  air,
less thoroughfare more nasal flare.
Perhaps they should live by their derivation
a place where sheep were washed.

Alleys that we run from
glue eyes for the sniffers,
away from the disheveled lowers.
School blazers aren't for chemical reactions,
nor can brain damage
be repaired.

Why isn't everyone raving about
Harvey Andrews
or trying to memorise tranquility
Why did we ever leave 1975
when we had more hedgerows
and projected families in slides
Blondes didnt have to be peroxide
en naturel was a currency
Words were spoken with eye contact
and dreams came true

Deaths  knell
a summation of  lost causes,
out  of self  respect you hid
your braced weakness.
Inside you  have previously died
now awaiting featureless failure
it shrouds you
and  yesterdays core  once over
forever coils in recognotion

The Moon saw fit to shine
because it had  nowhere else to go
she sang a song for the apple boughs
because they were  bountiful
The Moon sighed to  heaven
as though in a wild  moment
she wanted the sea to lull
under  lunar lapse
for she sought to draw a  line
between the golden apples and her whispered  shadow
she was tired,so tired of  casting her modesty

I recall our glasses of  hock under candle  light
you smiled, casting the probable like an ingot,
knowing the way we could take it -
the alternation of  life stories,
attachment or killing  regret 
by the whiskey wine route,
having graduated a step into  remiss
slipping in an ex,
I only realised it takes nothing  better to do
than missing things up

Where is the grass
once braid of field?
The empty stream -
a nonchantant dream.
The rub of eye's,
a steep descent -
into the brambles,
glaring along dumped concrete bags
bleached in this lungless place.

At Junkers  yard
Aurolia and Olivia
those fallen ladies smoke their  last ***
with dropping  mouths they've tasted yesterday today
before taking to bed and resting.
Elsewhere the enamoured  trod wistfully
already their  regrets  had hit rock bottom
their wives until then convenient gaps of  memory.
Decembers  winds  took records
the  local press were having a field day
recording the gaps in descent
of past union.

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.

As long as Jennifer  
betters her heart
joy will never wash away
for the beach will seem to part
to  gravitate
the softest  sand
from where her newer spot
will enjoin  the surest  pitch,
breathing in the long held ideal
that the good  times will surely  roll

lavinia will walk through the dizzling rain,
to the artists colony this morning,
instinctively in and out of clothes
a bug in the bold long grass.

Upon leaving without her raincoat
she'll make a perfunctory impression,
nonchalant in cherry lipstick
blotted in another's dreams.

You worked all day
and only now
can belief grace you,
whilst you drink  cofee.
Mealy mouthed is better at meal times
you squeeze the ketchup
to watch the splash
on your empty plate.
No explanation is offered
if its bravado its misunderstood.
Its just the exasperation unstated.

At five oclock Calnorifian time, they switched off the beacon,
setting the mercury  into descent.
If San Francisco bridge was nye
how many tired and toiling poets would have jumped ?
Instead they muse elsewhere
resurrecting  their craft.
Jaded I can also taste the Whiskey
hum and rattle in places unfamilar
the sufferability no longer artistic;
Friends among us the dearly departed

Of the schema and polite conversation
where we learn the gentle art of fluttery
or how to complain in the surest dismissive line.
The uplighters are headache inducing
unless we've picked up a restless  cold,
downstairs cafe a shocker
thick coffee reminiscent of Starbucks.
Early retirement a pipe dream
we surely drop down before time  
not having navigated work life balance
because of  the distances travelled
and rest spent weekends.

In my lounge thoughts of
books yet to be read,
if only this prescribed stillness could improve
the comfort of the time  
and the light  paving  stronger shadows,
my slippers  merging into coolness
with the  envisaged  ideal
i am safer  in my  kingdom
no  dragons  or  waywardness
just the well earned spectrum

With a suitcase in the hall
the lady is leaving, Sunday
mingled in her uncertainty
is a goodbye to all those morrows,
with lush eyeliner,
she said she was a stranger to love
and in the morning,
she returned to her child within,
and in her sad longing
the rain relented.

It was a long time coming
But now she says she wants her escape
weekends to replenish her sleepless nights
She has a gypsy's travel lust
Complains never gets cuddles
Walks over her men
Alikens herself to marmite
You are forced to either hate or love her
She's got her toxic relationship now
Where is her humanity
and true voix
of what she is really feeling
Never talks politics
despite reading the Mail,
seeks a  bad reaction everytime
never gave him a chance
Where does her gentleman lay
with  broken hearts
never happy now

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.

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.

All those  Moorhens  I want to befriend
for 50 p worth of grain.
Before  long  the settimg Sun will  smile
at this speck of  kindness
Hadn't we all heard it  before
kindness  begets  sincerity.
By the  night, if I stayed out long enough
all and  sundry would  be gliding,
planning  an extra gift for  those  moorhens

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.

As gentle as a fawn,
when she dances in his dancehall,
remembering Vietnam.
those bedeviled eastern nights,
when she bequeaths her needs
the vices of loss are a contagion,
in contemplating oblivion,
when there's hire in his heart.

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

The yews fingers eludicate avec moi
This winter filled with love
Memories grew within me
Life has become irreplaceable

In a forest of cornflower
I idle by
my headaches incessant
Life is a contraband
I'm hardly in a fit state

Opposites don't attract,
every pigeon has potential  butter on their feet,
sourced from an inalienable  mountain
of bread rolls,
they have  often dreamed  of flying
to the sun
away from the inhospitable  concrete  fields,
but  in the  heat
they become  stuka sirens
and  people will find  that an impossible  thought