Energy's deserted me and
my motivation motored off.

The nurse said,
give a little cough
and then she said,
all fine

well said I,
so there's nothing wrong
in the engine room, but why
am I tired all the time?

she chimed in with,
you need a little rest and all the rest that goes with it,
perhaps a tune-up at the clinic might help a little bit
she then produced a suppository that she said might do the trick, suddenly I felt better and you've never seen me move so quick.

The lamp sheds little light,
I really wanted a genie
but I got a pig in a poke,

these old sayings slay me.

Under peeling grey ceilings
she has played on my feelings
and preyed on my flesh.

Dreams do that to you,
make you believe the unbelievable
convincing you
that the voices in your head are real
well
maybe they are
but I never listen to them because
they talk nonsense.

It's Friday
and you know what that means?
no
neither do I.

Oh!
Brexit day has arrived
or so
the voices in my head
tell me, but as I said,
I never listen to them.

The Roman Empire which was before my time
is no longer there and will not see my decline
I shall not be remembered by those ancient scribes
only
in spoken reference by the great Northern tribes,

I am at peace with that.

We used to be
didn't we?
then we went our separate ways
you into the night and I
into the distance of those lonely
days
watching interminable television plays
based on love and romance

let loose and yet
instead of playing the field
I became a recluse
preferring to be alone
seeking no company
needing no one to comfort me
just me and the TV
and yet we
used to be
I can't forget that.

Liverpool
the street
not the City
and isn't that
a crying shame

Saturday
on the Central
but
it matters not today
because
it's a bank holiday
and I'm on my way
to
Liverpool
( the street )
where the old meets the new
especially on New street
which funnily enough
is old.

The sun is beating down
short skirts and t-shirts
in London Town.

In a tick which is awfully quick
I'm already here
In
Liverpool
which by now you know
is the street,
a pity really
because I so like
the City.

No one
not even you
will ever know
beforehand
how things will go.

Practice may make perfect
but perfect is no guarantee
of success.


The council sent a wrecking crew
which is
the sort of thing that council's do
and knocked the brick wall down
because the writing that was on it
didn't fit the image of this
Town
and it could have been
in
Camden
Kentish
or even Highgate Village which
is not technically a town but it
has lots of walls

Walls remind me of ghetto's
no go's
and,
'Halt who goes there?'

But it's just word association
like
council aberration
normal situation
and who pays reparations
to
the future generations
when we've used the whole
world up or washed it all
away?

She walked across rooftops
collecting dreams from sleeping children
and placed them safely
in the nest of the arms of the stars above

She is the music in the silence
and the words and hope
in every wish and prayer

She taught fire the art of poetry
and then set the sun ablaze
and let it drift off into the sky

She carved the moon from the moody sky
and taught it the language
of melancholy lullabies
and then pinned it to the night

She is part

ocean and mist

   sand and shore

    mountain and river

      breeze and wind

       leaf and branch

and is in everything
  that is beautiful about love

If you are lucky you might hear her footsteps
gliding gracefully over your roof
and in dreaming you will see her smile
and in seeing her smile you will know
why the stars glimmer and shine

He dreamt of mice
and he dreamt of gods
and he dreamt of mice
that were gods
and gods that feared mice
and he dreamt of secrets
that he could not tell
and of memories
that were not his
and he dreamt of days
that wished they could see nights
and nights that ignored mornings
and he dreamt
that the planets were fish
and that the ocean
was let loose to swim in the sky
and through the emptiness of space
and that man was never made
of flesh or bone
and that men where children of mice
mice that knew too many secrets
and they would not share
any of those secrets with man
but they would share
their milk and their cookies
and tell men how to avoid cats
when cats dream
because when cats dream
they become bigger than mice
and become more loved than gods
and in their purring
is the death song
of the kingdom of mice
and without mice
and their kingdom safe
that man would be lost children
that looked like worms
to the planets that swam like fish
in the ocean that floated
in the emptiness of space
and then he woke
and did not remember
what he had dreamt
and scurried across the floor
and ate some cookies
and scanned the darkness
for any cats that might
dare to sleep
and in sleeping dream
and dream the beginning
of the end of everything