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.

..and who'll care about those who care about?
no one?
no one is out there
no one to care
no one to look at
that thing that we share

who'll care about that?.
who'll care about you?
no one to care about
the things we go through
and
I'm not yet half way through
but I'm done,
some of you might
care about that
or not.

This is a stand up routine
it's like a bad dream
I once had and
the weather is bad

can you see me laughing?

But the tube is no place for a
self pity session.

Lots of rosy red cheeks
I sneak peeks
and that's how I know,

and quiet too
as if the
cold's got their
tongues

the cat's not worried
he has nine lives.

It's only Tuesday
which is nether here
nor Morecambe bay
but
I'm drowning anyway.

When I thaw out I'll
go out to gnaw at
what's left of the
morning

I might be some time.

I should have worn my
long johns,
a thermal underlay
for a ****** cold day
but I forgot

I won't make that mistake
again.

He
trains his brain to remember
but can't remember what for.

When they hung out the stars on a washing line
to watch them shrivel and lose their shine
I knew it was an omen.

The night still came though dark and plain
the moon still cast its spell
but
the magic had gone
the romance had died
it was just as well that I never cried
God how I tried, but
I couldn't remember how.

She flew south
I watched her go,
fluttered,
her wings as white as
drifting snow
I drifted too and waited for
the Summer.

It was 20:16 in 2018 and I was sixty one
so you can't tell me numbers mean nothing,

Four thousand and ninety five in total
that means something

Who makes these thing I wonder that make me wander
I'd like to meet him or her, but somehow I don't think I
will.

I want to throw the bones rewind the stones
grow cajones
(I'm told they're a Spanish vegetable)

I add things to things that add up to things
and things have a habit of multiplying
hey!
pay attention
I'm investing some trying here
but it looks like I'm dying here
well
I've done that before
!
That is a premature exclamation
and how do I perform that live?

I go outside to escape my self
and the end and the inevitable
and I sit admiring the night sky
until the stars become the scattered
words I’m trying hard to understand
but seem completely unable to.

I look up into that dark blue night
and I wish it was the ocean.
I wish the world was a fading purple
sunset. I wish the world was
the moonstone blue of the sea.

I’m drowning in the night sky instead,
in all this vast intangible vagueness.
There’s no edge, no shore to the sky,
just stars and then stars and then stars.

I want to be on the shore again,
feeling alive, feeling maybe, just maybe
there’s a little hope in the waves that
have always been able to comfort me.

See, the sea is full of lonely moments,
losing moments, shipwrecked moments,
but it is also the place of liminal on the shore
moments, meeting moments, happy, maybe moments.

But here I am, sitting beneath the sky, not the sea.

I came out here to escape yet all I’ve found
is the inevitable in all its dark, vast, uncontainable glory.
I look away because I don’t want to see it.
I look away, because now it’s the end,
I’m not ready to leave.

I gather handfuls of cold to my chest
and take it all back inside with me.
I dream of the ocean. I long for the sea.

We often overshoot the Moon as
we wing our way up to the stars
and yet we can't get back to yesterday
but
give me the opportunity
to get back there
to a younger
me
and I wonder if
I would take it.

Towering blocks
that
rise above blocks
that nestle below
and
below them
smaller blocks

the pixies have gone
all hail
the rise of the Pokémon.

We're all on the tilt side
and society lied when
it said
life's not a game.

We always met between the lines where I watched ink form tears that ran slowly down your face,
I wished in pencils for another meeting place and made coffins lined with lead instead.

But we did I'd say and did it well
mused amongst the pages of the
times we had and laughed at those
we missed.

and if I live to see the new day come
we'll meet again between the lines
to rearrange the letters and
next time have
some fun.