I had too much,
Swirling in a bar,
Swells after swalley,
My girlfriends gone
And I, lost, alone with
Familiar strangers.

They circled me,
Paddling, soles holey,
Rafting under rafters,
My red hair drawing
Them in, motley moths
To a flame, locks lit by ****
And glinting with flit of glass
In peat drub smoking pub.

One brave soldier, sailed
On over and our glaze eyes
Danced, deftly avoided any
Glance as we swayed, silent,
His breath was dank, of sea,
Moist and salty on raw flesh,
I could nae help but wake from
Dream by the scent of only you,
But it wasn't you dreamful laddie,
In shelled ears some brigand shot,
Sprayed a cold loss awakening,
His words, nothings, oak aged,
I felt loudly drowning, caught
In a corner of rusted, hulled
Ship now sinking, he threw
Himself a line and I saved
My soul, a life preserved
By a leaving, breaching
Heavy waves, bobbing
Into the out of doors.

The agenda,
manifesto pledges
that lend a
certain charm to
the certainty that
they
will harm you,
read them through
peruse at length
your strength is in
the understanding.

Into the valley of
methamphetamine,
some call it
Yaba
some call it
Christine,
those in the know
know that it's a
bad scene.

Putting the politics aside
let's all go for a ride
on the ultimate trip
through the comic strip
heroes
on the horns of dilemmas.

The lap dance at
the last chance saloon

an ultimatum
verbatim,

'get out of town'

Forever flowing towards me,
then out beyond
the open sea and
the
river,
sullen, sluggishly
takes on another life
and we believe
it's only man
who plans to execute
a will.

Hyperbole,
they said,
(a million times)
will be the death of me,

another will or won't you
try
to be
the river
strolling to the sea.

And the meaning
does not mean the end.

The exodus
never included nor
excluded us.

we became or we become and
some became
becalmed, some
Self-harmed and others
upped and went.

To all intents, it seemed a good idea,
dam the rivers
free up the land,
man's not content to have his fingers in
the cookie jar
he's got to have a hand in there.

Another mish-mash of my thoughts
to think on when I've
'bought the farm'

I wonder if Maggie really cares.
if I go to work or not.

The whistle blew
the footplate crew
released the steam.

Engines rolled over
the rolling track
and looking back
I rolled too.

We can always pretend
make believe that
it's true.

Loving you is the price
that I pay
and you pay too loving
me the way
you do.

It's an equality thing.

We can always pretend,
make believe that we knew

loving was the only thing that
was true.

Arms that we raise to the sky,
days when we live for the
nights that we die in
our arms that we raise
to the sky.

Ten word
poetry
is just
me
being
very
very
lazy.

Shredded wheat; Cheerios
Minute rice; Frozen meals
Hot dogs; hot dogs;
Snappy, kosher, ball-franks;
Spaghetti night with warm bread
toast; butter, sugar and cinnamon  
soda, pop, energy drinks-

gum disease
Scurvy in America

They tinker with the food chain
feed insects to livestock
what kind of Frankenstein
does that?

As they unlink each link
can't they see
don't they think?

At the thin edge of the cord
we cut through the knot
that ties us to life and
what have we got?

wings?

we are what we eat and
that's in the meat.

Vegetarian?

that won't win you a prize
I've seen with my own eyes
the slurry tanks,
they'll spray your legumes and
say that they're fertilized,

muck spreaders tell no lies
haha

and breathing fresh air
won't get you
anywhere
it's tainted,
dioxins
we're all being boxed in.

Our goose is being cooked
as I speak
full of insects and all things
antique,
preserved I might add
in the mad scientist's lab
nothing's as bad
as it seems.

The sky rising up from the sea
something in me?

Each man sets his own horizon
which lies on
the
broadsword of the uncut
umbilical.

As much as I see
I see virtual reality
and a veil drawing
over the day.

Voices of reason chattering away
scattering the clouds that
lay over the bay and
spoiling the view, but
you are the muse where
the words from a heart and
the thoughts in a head
come together and
fuse.

The cat
(if there was one)
has gone
the bell tinkles on.

The fine line,
the first line of defence
was,
(when I was a boy)
the old garden fence where
words were batted like
ping pong *****.

Old fences fall and
innovation calls,
the mobile phone
the mobile office
the mobile home
and we're all immobilised
looking surprised.

The sea remains
stains on the bedsheets
***** plates in the sink
washing in the basket
I think
I must make
a move.