Expression twiddles its thumbs
Waiting for observation to avert
So it can freely hang off the bones
Rest and decompress
With a bit of solice
It can begin to unveil
From a contented painting
Depicting a face of rest
It is an imitation only
I've crafted this mask
It has given me some peace
At first it did create something
Others wanted to see
But the layers of each new portrait
No longer give the old relief
They weigh on the authentic
My general countenance is not me

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

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

Perfectly still
Albeit with a beating heart
The thought of the actual thing
It's existence
It's true you know?
It has already meshed
Absorbed under the skin
Laying on the other side of the world
8546 km as the crow flies
Barely a hairs breadth
Just across the ocean
With not an atom in between

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

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

Like a rotten tooth
Under the Ribs
It throbs in its dull ache
In waves of salty grief
Sometimes there's nothing
& the nothing will last for days
(Perhaps I made it all up?)
Then I feel the pesky thing
A tiresome dole pain
Putting my hand to my chest
As i write even now
It comes again

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.

My heart won't shut up
If it were a sound
It would be a chello
That is played so softly
Before being repeatedly smashed to bits

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'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

My heart is lead
There is a dull ache
All ******* day
In the upper 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

It is a ghost
It has no twitt twoo
Instead an alien sound
Immits from the spooky beast
My spine shivers
As if this strange
Voice from the other side
Is calling you;
An eerie guide
From just above my head
In the corner of the eye
Movement on the velvet sky
Not a whisper
From those fine white feathers
Hushed is it's flight

"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

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

I saw a crocus in the white and yellow
Of pre springs winter bloom
The purple stopped my footfall dead
In the wet graveyard gloom
I looked in on the brilliant thing
Burnt orange streaks tucked within
And there was a sigh of relief
Now springtime can begin

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

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.

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 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.

This roaring little demon
That I ignite and prokove
Suffocate and choke
I show it open palmed surrender
Wet boots above me gently sway
Time for another log
The Squirrel roars its approval
As it bites into the blackthorn
The brightest of burners
I shut off the flow
Smother all but that
Most gentle flame
Now a warm happy glow
In the heart of my home

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.

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'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.

I hear them before I see them
And each year I stop all activity
To turn and watch
They give me the V
For Victory
Honking away the winter grip
Thawing back his fingers
Until old Jack slips
Soon there will be warmth
The smell of suncream
Just mown lawns and barbecues
The last bud will then have to bust
Then their deeds will be done
They will take off in song
A babble on the breeze heading south
And I will eagerly listen for them
In the forever of next years frost

"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.

With each new cup
I worry the well is not deep enough
That I will go there, pale in hand
And find a rancid smell
A frayed rope
Peer into the enigmatic hole
And find I've nothing to tell
How will I placate you then?
If my fount runs dry?
What if your mistaken?
What if I am nothing inside?

I'll stay for eternity
Hidden in between the lines
I'll do it mute if you need
That will do just fine
To watch you live your life
As I move along in mine
I know that I'm inside
I can feel that warm home
The one that resides
In your sinews and your bones

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.

"What's your name again?"
Expression drops off a cliff
A free fall of unexpected hurt
It covers the face like a cloth
You can see the shock
Distress and a loss
And after this dissipates
The manner has changed
You did not take the time to care enough
To put their face to their name
You did not try hard enough
(You are a social disgrace)
Who could forget their mums birthday?
Unfeeling, uncaring lazy brain
"I'm really sorry, I'm bad with names"
The lips snap shut on my excuses
(Ive got dispraxia, nothing will help)
But the light has died now anyway
All but gone out
Numbers and names = love
And my heart is not good enough

I wandered through the restraunt
On each table a single white rose
I took a lift
And took a sniff
Feeling no sensation in the nose
On the piano today
Sits a full bouquet
And I attended next to this
Hoping On the grey morning
To steal that summer kiss
I bend and take a whiff
The pink bloom is strikingly pretty
But again no smell of bliss
My connection issue with humanity
That is much like this

"Good morning"
"Hello"
My slight country twang goes unheard
In most upcountry folk
Plugged in and un provoked
They don't look up
Buds in and blocked out
God forbid they hear themselves!
God forbid they hear the birds!
Deaf to those pleasntrys
"Good morning if you please!'
I miss them that go drekly
they almost always do
A smile and a swift "mornin"
Especially for you

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

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

I was gonna tee totally
Cold turkey it
I was clucking
And the jar of mushys occurred
Cut through the malase
A method of escape
And I boshed a few hats n stems
Then the dealer finally text me back
And so I took off on a bike
Without feeling the wheels
And came on a train
Who don't half make a sound
When it comes to a stop
The thing hitting apon another thing
Two trains exploding past each other
What a thing it was
It was bright and tubular
Welcoming and shiney lights
Then I thought down for a bit
And I could feel the drain lights dip
So I came up in my mind
Looked up at the pretty lights instead

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.

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 saw him in the muted mist
The swamp woods were full of it
The world outside was fuzzy
Frozen on the ground
From the train window I saw him
I watched his stately prosesion
Sharp white of surrender
Amongst the ***** reeds
That alienesque walk
A great egret
Was something I had never seen

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 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

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

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.

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

Push it down
Force it in
A gap between the legs
It's not a good thing
Ribs and chest look underdressed
And this bra is missing a bit of breast
Appetite has took a little hit
We will need to attend to it
So make a sandwich
Eat it all up
We must remember
Eat your grub!

I'm hoping for Daisy May
Where tide cuts the path away
She sits, right now
Baking in the mud
The tide falling as I type
I seen the lazy sailors
Chilling on greening tenderboat
A diffrent kind of river gypsy
On a diffrent life afloat
Im seeing her Monday 5th
At the time of 11.30 O clock
Her name means renewal
a freshness is brought to mind
(Said the bot)
Or a milk cow chewing the cud
(Replied my brain box)
A rough diamond kinda find
I'll not barter on her price
These mooring man's shoes are dead
150 squid a year for heaven
"Nothing so much fun you know?
As messing around on boats!"
I'm hoping for Daisy May
I'd like to buy that boat

Your small talk
Was an atom bomb
Talk of the weather;
I could hear a roaring then
Saw a mushroom on the horizon
And a whispering came with along it
A terrifying thought, as I walked on
Hope it's the just withdrawal noia
The whisperer did not gloat
Just a 'thank you' after
And that was all

Some blood pumping activity
Can take the place of the pipe
If I want it
If I try
But there's a pattern for me
A **** loop i do regularly
Something in my inner deep
Comes up to the shallows
And swallows me
Down a dreadfull piscine throat
To a hell of unknown provoke
Inside the belly of the beast
I scrabble my phone
Grasping relief
"Dude are you home?"
In my hands soon
Is a soft green rope
A ten bag of Cally with powerful poke
Lighting the pipe and taking hold
Out with the bubbles
A most gentle blowhole
Breaching to my inland sofa
Where the sun is sitting now
Put on the kettle
Let's have another round

A gypsy met a jeweler
And they became instant friends
Like children playing in a tree
(They were not K I S S I N G)
The thing kept growing
The talk kept flowing
All up the boroughs each day
And it was bliss to exist
In the cherry tree we'd sit
Among the pink blossoms and leaves
A boy and girl can play in the canopy
But a man and a woman?
Up in a tree?
It is outrageous society

Your small talk
Was an atom bomb
Talk of the weather
Something odd
I could hear a roaring then
Saw a mushroom on the horizon
And a whispering came with along it
A terrifying thought, as I walked
Hope it's the just withdrawal noia
(You will hear from him no more)
The whisperer did not gloat
Just a thank you
And that was all