We stare into the pit as
the pendulum slices
another bit
and there's less of you
now
than there ever was.

Oz isn't real
and
if you believed all the spiel
that it was,

tough.

No
medals for trying
but lots for the dead
are you dying to join them?
and
somebody said,
"it's a man's life"
my wife
doesn't think so and
she lets me know so.

and everything goes slow.
as
I hibernate and wait out the winter,

Written by Thirdtimelucky

Never swear or tell a lie on a Sunday you might die
and you won't be going to heaven
that's a fact.

As children we believed what we were told
becoming older and not so trusting
I
put no trust in Church or State

maybe it's heaven that I'm heading for
if not
then hell can wait.

I'm not sure who you were speaking to but the man in the greatcoat assumed it was him and he could have been 'the thin man' or 'the third man' but not the 'bird man of Alcatraz'

see me and
it's jazz painting by Dali
or possibly
Toyah slings Goya on the canvas
she's a lass is our Toyah
but is she from Lancashire?
doubtful.

Tracey
will you race me
around your unmade bed?

There's
nothing peculiar in being peculiar
the peculiar thing is it's not.

I wonder about people and how they
fit into the architecture,
are they itching to die or is
death
just another building?

If the leap of faith is
a quantum one
unexpected company
wants some
and
John
could be
strategically insignificant,
legally
deemed incompetent,

I
rest my case
reset my face
and place an order at
the bar.

My Sunday
so far
so good.

Someone should slap me awake
I can't take any more of these sad songs
the ones that play on and go around in the dream

The rainbow slows as it puts colours in my eyes
and
somewhere where the angel cries over
an untended gravestone
I feel alone.

it's the ukulele thing
sweet music on a savage wing
and the prayers which keep repeating
eating into me.

B.Demille in Saville Row
says
someone has to go
so I know
I'm dreaming.

Coach class and the second I pass go I don't want to.

In ******* or steerage
chained to the railings.

Dismal on the Central
like
clockwise down the
plughole.

My soul has been stolen and
shipped off
and being ******* is no
way to go on.

It's only Tuesday
a long way from
the weekend,
but far enough from
the beginning to know
going back
is too far.

Some mornings are as dark as can be
no light shines on me and I
see nothing but shapes which
I suppose are what makes me
aware.

In 91091,
this
number of a carriage
flicks off and then on
or maybe imagining is
all that is left of me.

Already draining away
and
still only Tueaday.

A herbal remedy
germaine to my malady
may help me.

God help me
the hype's got to me
'stay healthy,
live longer'
for what?

I'm taking a shot
loading the Glock
and
stopping the clock,

before the clock stops me.

Tell me about the senses and I'll give you instances that they never worked.

Lost in those turnstiles which clank round the windmills and tilt at no dragons I see.

'Leave me'. she uttered as I mumbled apologies,
it happens to all of us sometime.

They write of me in the penny look-see
I thought I'd be worth more.

When you don't see it coming
but you know that it's there,
the smell of the beast that
lays deep in its lair

two out of five
will
keep me alive

no touching allowed.

Shaman's up in Shropshire and
Rabbi's down in Bow,
I wonder where they go
when they go
on holiday.

We hire out these effigies
without apologies
treat them as you will.

I kneel although my knee's ******* to
a plate inside the bone
and telephone requests to them above
then find that they're not home.

I think to read the runes
or
load them up on itunes
and listen
in-car stereo,
still wondering where they go
on holiday.

Buy a life on Ebay
guaranteed for 60 years.

A way which is anyway
if it's another way
is the way to be,
comfy now?

I knew this was the 'man-flu'
and there was nothing I could do
except moan a bit
which I did
a lot.

I've taken tablets,
Moses
wasn't pleased,

but it was me that
sneezed.

I'm going to bed and
it's only
half past one

Saturday's a bust for me
an eight ball sunk for piracy
I think that I would rather be
in Shropshire or in
Bow.