My heart is lead
There is a dull ache
All ******* day
In the upper left of the chest
I hope it goes away
But its not lonely anymore
My soul is restful and raw
I surrender to it
Accept and understand it
I will take my eyes
And read of you no more

Truth covered in hypocrisy
I'll sit on my hands in sleep
I couldn't help but take a peek
And it did occur to me
I regret alot of things
I've got this friend you see
He makes me feel
I wanted to keep
And not to steal
I'd go out of my way
To keep that deal
I'll share whats lost
With what was real
I don't regret a thing
Because I got this friend you see
He made me feel

"Dr Dr we need to amputate!"
I prayed for this
I cannot wait
The extention of you
Connected not by some meaty chord
But by some insidious force
Now I see it
And with it you
Exposed to the most obvious truths
Here I come to cut it off
Hack away
A hatchet job
Each new year my distance grew
And I've recovered without you
I found your secrets
I know the cure
Your words are poison
Spit on the floor
Hope springs eternal
Hope dies last
I'm not a part of you
Your a part of my past

Willow trees make me happy
I have them clocked
Two on my journey
I am begrudging if I forget to look
There's one in St Beaudox
Another closer into town
I sit up and watch them go by
They deliver me a smile
And as I pass them I recall the sensation of the slender bendy bark and leaf
The shade and feel of passing on my boaty beneath
And on this bus I realise
Five days a week
That I miss the waterways
The river and canal
I miss my boat, my water gypsy life
My heart is not happy
Without weeping willows

The solice cracked like a whip
Through my speckless squint
I see them coming,
& stomp the other way.
Across the lake I hear them,
high pitched screams of play.
Sounds your not adapted to
If you went another way.
And as I walk it dawns on me,
The canal is never mine alone
And it's the holidays.

Yer puddle of *****
Sqitty and not right
Always the same MO
Just off the towpath
Though still in sight
Always a puddle
Bog roll beside
The doggies go to gobble it up
Boke, sick, its feckin rough
Such a tiny bit of tissue
Never seems enough
You need a doctor
To figure out your guts
I hope you got stung
On your flap or your nuts.

I'm full I tell you!
Constipated by the human race
The brain ****
Won't work
In the face of your face

A verbose stream of nonsense
That needs the walls ears alone
To ***** up the word stew
Regurgitate the bones.

The words dry up
And so do I
The thing is processed
With a relieving sigh.

Wrote it out and letters flowed
Under a shelf the crows did crow
By the lamp in the corner of the room
The plug sockets begain to whisper of doom
The kithen sink had been overthrown
The tap had decided on an absolute no
The plasterbord cursed and swore
As the carpets crawled across the floor
The lightbulb had committed suicide
The mirror discusted, could not abide
The wok was angry nothing was made
The milk was off but still in date
The cheese had crept
grown hairy and wet
The candle sang a sweet pure glow
The coffie table enjoyed the tiny solo
The couch sighed deep
The shoes prayed for feet
The saving foam lay quiet and wept
The razor blades denyed regret
The freezer buzzed with cheep delight
The candle lost the ability of sight
The radiators were sly with cold
The tins of soup felt wrinkled and old
The wooden spoon was burned then sold
A new black sock went grey with shock
The skirting bords pointed & mocked
As a toothbrush choked and twisted and coughed
The eggs were angry
The spoons were not
And when it hit tweve?
The clock just stopped.

I don't want the man from Panama
I am happy he has a good life
I don't want his romance
That is for his wife

I don't want his strong hands
They are to steady his child
I don't want his warm embrace
A clasp that would defile

I don't want his **** bits
I look the other way
I don't want his daily bread
The humdrum of his day

I don't want the man from Panama
I just want to talk with his brain
He is the only conducter I've found
On the same frequency as my insane

I've lost all my pens again
I can only find blunt pencil
Blunt pencil seems so insincere
So easily erased

I feel rubbed up the wrong way
Like an affronted cat
I am displeased
With my life
I've lived this way
As long as I can recall
I saw the shitstreams
Well in advance
But I didn't say
Been wandering through life
Kicking myself in this way
An abrasive development
Slightly grated on each day
Irritated by so much
It is a slow death of contentment
Hope dies by a thousand cuts
These noisy beings
They get too close
They push
They poke
Uncomprehending
As an elephant on an anhiill

I can't explain it
I couldn't describe the sensation
Of the black muted doughnut
In my brain
A hole at the core
That means loneliness
The infinity of it
Pouring in endlessly
And just one atom could block it
though it's a mile wide
Just that one little iota
Of understanding
I've seen it
Felt the blockage
It felt good
But it wasn't wanted
Or it was warped and injured
Or I was too wierd
Gestulating in an unknown language.

I ate his tendinous chords
And he dined on mine
An unconditional platefull
Served with the juices of the mind
Oxytocin marinaded in dopamine
A rich endorphin stew
It was too much
It was also not enough

"The poor thing"
devoid of all needs  you are exposed,  
Like a mute begger.
They walk on by  not knowing, 
The sensation of exposure  
the burn of the sun  (Or eyes)  
You squirm from my touch.  
I can identify,  
I hope a similar kindness returns me to some cool wet grass.

Waving at me from the thicket
(hullo!)
my lost glove
faded in its gesture
waving at the passers by merrily
sun bleached but definitely mine
swaying in the afternoon sunlight
here you are finally
in June
the other I threw away
gave up
scanned the pavement
searched the park
along the canal
eyes down
some nice stranger
has done this "good deed"
I know it was borne of kindness
fear of it getting muddy and wet
thinking they know best
I pass these waving garments
In the trees
(where no one is looking)
On a gate post
(the owner scanning the ground around)
On a bush in the bouncy breeze
(to be blown off into the undergrowth)
I pass them on the ground
And I leave the ****** thing
So it can be found!

I can't die with black toenails
The sock fluff, in the corners
That sit waiting to shock the world
I can't die with a hairy *****
Looking like a sleeping Chewbacka 
Unmaintained and with musk 
I can't die with crusty sleepy eye
The kind you forget
When you've not washed your face
Before walking the dog
You can....
Well, most of you
Who cares what the mortician thinks? 
Well I surey do
The mortician is my sister 
If you were me
You'd care too.

Here they come
They stretch and sigh
From the rich to the poor
Rumpled and bleary eyed
Bumkin and townie
Dead and alive
On stiff zombie legs
They snap crackle and pop
They are here to buy a twix
They are here to use the bog.

The fires going out
The silence
Fills the void
In the darkness
The world revolves
And I don't feel it
The people communicate
And I can't grip it
The sea of nothing
My link to that part
The part I want to express
The fire is almost embers
It's Ash and red
Smoke and dying flame
I take a deep breath, regardless
Glad I am what I am.

She sings nonsense lyrics
And fiddles with the stock
The words are meaningless
Just a beat on the clock

Atop her head
Sits an ear and speaker set
A phone in hand
A brain without rest

And if your mid talk
With this wee Borg
She'll suddenly stop and
Look straight forward

Her hand will rise slowly up
Looking absolutely nuts
A zombie stop, do not cross
Cybernetics on the job

Unnatural though it is
Your culture will adapt to this
And forgetting the human
In front of her face

She will refocus
Oblivious to me
Turn in the shop isle
And promptly leave

You annoy me
The shape of your face
You don't do your best
Your a daily disgrace
What is wrong with you?
Why can't you improve?
Everyone else is always
Always,
Waiting for you!
Your such an ugly ******
You've such an durnoid brain
How can you stand yourself?
Your creepy and insane
No one wants to be your friend
To get under that thick skin?
If they only knew what's in you
You'd be off to the loony bin
I hate to have to be with you
You deserve each and every hit
You stupid cunting *******
You nasty mlksop *****
Your never going to be enough
You were nothing from the start
There's nothing good about you
Just stay there in the dark
I don't want to be you
But I am within
I'm your self loathing
And I want to win

Where did you aquire this thing?
Whilst you were developing
Someone got acid
And slipped some right in
Back then you see
You had no choice
After all, who listens to a
A childs gentle voice?
And so your loathing did begin
That was safe
To keep it all in
Every slight and every dig
All those millions
Of unfair things
A compressed bottle
Lava red
Fit to bust inside your head
You know somewhere
"I don't deserve this!"
Your lost in the doldrums
Self hatred transfixed
An entire life of things unsaid
Sail over you each night in bed
You need to say what you need to say
To recover, you have to be brave
And give yourself a ******* break
To begin the task of bailing yourself out
While your cristmas card list shrinks
(Without a dought)
But in the cold light of one fine day
that wretched beast inside
Will shrink into it's grave
And die

The nothing moves inoxerably forward
It continues to expand
Dull and sad they march
It's all going to plan
Accepting the double speak
Unaware of the erosion
The smothering of speech
As the beast gobbles onwards
Taking and tightening
Unbelievablebly frightning
I'd happily accept a tin foil crown
In the face of all this
With the word 'fool' emblazoned
And a pointed tip
I'd wear it loud
Around town and be proud
Be glad to know for sure
That I'm just mad
Just another crackpot
And that isn't this
It's just this and that.

Childsplay at work
Bringing my kazoo
To the symphony
Among the refined
Sleek auburn violins
And brass, polished
Everything shiny
This orchestra must have direction
Some secret scrunched away notes
They play with this apparent ease
(Cut to me and my plastic kazoo)
I toot in amongst them
Trying to gauge the tempo
Attempting to play the right speed
As they strike up symphony no 8
And play with a swift grace
I take a deep breath
And ready my instrument.

It's a meager spread
Intellectual water and dry bread
As I read us side by side
I notice the chasim
increasingly wide
I'm out of my depth
I'm not half as wise
I can't reflect back what they'd like
I'd love to, just to try
To buy myself some extra time
But that wouldn't be me
That would be one of my lies

I've bitten into so many;
Waxed and sugary
From the sharp wild strawberry
To the bus stops dry thorny sloes
The over and the under ripe
Even as I attend to the flesh
I can predict what my tounge will tell
It's full of seeds
The texture is too wierd
This one is sacrine sweet
These have a fishy smell
You'll need a special knife for that
And you aut to cook this one just right
That one is poison
Remember to wash your hands
pickings are slim
Rove and scan
Pick and grow
I didn't notice you there
Standing in plain sight
Couldn't see the wood for the cherry tree
The dark subtle fruits
That you made easy to reach
Simple to consume
I didn't even have to climb
It was comforting
I can't even describe the texture or taste
You are just what I want
To linger in the boroughs of you

I came across your hand again
It was itching around my mind
And it tugged at me today
Somewhere I'd felt your soul before
Hidden between some lines
I could pick your writing in a million
The structures that I sank within
From this person out of sight
"Raptured" you said you were;
The itch cooling in my minds eye
As I took in your photo
You looked like an angel
Your skin made me cry

They were all just hooks
Baited and set
Waiting for just that one big fish
I caught the unique piscine
With my own wierdo scent
He swam up the bank
And sat there with me
On the wet grass
Right where you are now
Entirely lovely
In every Facit
I wanted to wander
Under his surfaces
He was in fact
Countless fathoms of deep
The wierd fish began to gasp
I helped push him back
With a primordial feel
As he slipped away
I felt the connection
Through the waters of the earth

There's a blackbird in my heart
I plucked his feathers everyday
Each new bloom, pointed and itchy
Grew anew
And I plucked it every day
There's a blackbird in my heart
And it listened very tall
It knew who hated me
And that was mostly all
There's a blackbird in my heart
That I never let speak
His song and tone were wrong
Like a record played on the wrong speed
There's a blackbird in my heart
And I hated it so
I would rip its beak off
But it doesn't let me close
Untill I read Bukowski
I dispised the little creep
And through the tears and sobs and snot
I heard a tiny peep
There's a blackbird in my heart
And it's time to set it free

I can't be blue
They want yellow
Mild and light
Or green
Who is understandable
Aceptable as violet
Common as red
All the spectrum of the light
In the realms of a kaleidoscope
I want to be melancholy
Paint over the azure
Staining in tones of midnight navy
Its OK to be morose
It's a part of the pallete
After all, you wanted to live?
You wanted to feel?
So feel
Mix it up in cobalt
Inky to almost black
Let my expression alone
I want to feel sorrow
In shades of deppest indigo
To drift on the blue spiral arms
Just around the milkyway