Old moss doesn’t notice spring
The seating had been chairfully arranged
A garden is a wild place
The final frontier
Though we try to tame it
With glass houses and trowels
It will always be free
Neatened perhaps but stubbornly free

Just standing there
Without a chair in the world

A house you can walk all the way around
Is an aspiration
Success summarised as
An absence of ajoining walls

Modern life
Makes people
Want to be
Detached

Long Live the Terraces

The snails look down on slugs
As vagabonds and vagrants
They shun them in the garden sheds
Get aggressive on the pavements

The slugs despise the landed gentry
Escargot **** yourselves they cry
But while they’re brabbling and bickering
Sparrows circle in the sky

The slugs slide in vain towards the hedge
And **** the snails to hell
But the snails no longer hear them
Safe inside a silent shell

She lived out her entire life in Manchester
Except for a few exotic months
When she fell in love

She followed that love down to Australia
But missed her dear old mum
And came home to take care of her

As far as I know she never saw that love again
And she never stopped taking care of her mum

She’d tell me tales of late night
Trams missed in Blackpool
Sent away on trains amidst the blitz
And later nights out dancing at the Ritz

Sometimes she’d be talking to me
Sometimes my Dad
Sometimes her brother Joe
I wasn’t bothered

She could talk to me for hours
All I’d need do is brew the tea

I loved her
And I’m grateful she loved me

Wet socks on the bed
I came to read my book
I should have left my phone downstairs
I can't help but take a look

A tepid cup of coffee
A midday malaise
The book lies shut, I'm miles away
As I scroll away my days

Wet Coffee on the bed
I'll mop it with the socks
They were wet already
Opportunity knocks

Everyone in this city looks tired
There's a policeman in white gloves
A whistle clamped tight between his lips
He's not afraid to use it
He is flapping in my direction
I give him an apologetic grimace
For the many crimes I have
Apparently committed and speed off
Through a crowd of tired tokyoites

I said I'd ring
I never did
I hope you don't remember it

You said you'd come, but
You weren't there
Washing someone else's hair

They said they'd wait, but
They were gone
What a ****** carry on

He said that's it
I've had enough, but
He was only acting tough

She seemed to say nothing at all
In saying that
She said it all

Pale seals stare at numb hands
Unsure what they’re for
They clap and claw and clasp at the shore

Then they’re heading back out again
Out of their frozen minds
Soles slapping across the shingle of time

Till the wild sea spews them out
Sick of their bobble hatted taste
Then another wave of pale seals wade out to take their place

Bert likes chewing on ***** old socks
The lady is a supertramp
She plays a guitar made of sticky tin cans
With a wheely bin for an amp

Bert smears custard across her cheeks
Then lets wail her battle cry
She ducks and dives from the dreaded flannel
Makes it clear she won’t comply

Bert hurls her broccoli
Like a vegetable javelin
At first we sigh and shake our heads
But in the end we all join in

The country is a vicious dog
So feed it what it wants
De Pfeffel looks on gleefully
The mongrel slobbers as it chomps

The mutts were not to know
As they proudly wolfed It down
The chocolate lies now sickly
The dog has been put down

Prehistoric seabirds soar
in an inner city park
Young mums frame a Victorian lake
No doubt it changes after dark

Pink noses
Pleasant roses
Water hoses
Reeds part revealing Moses

St George never visited
Only his name
The English patriots bombard
The land from which he came

But let’s leave the politics out of the park
On a sunny day.

Using my lips as a straw
I encourage the coffee
Inside me
The coffee doesn't need much
Encouragement having lain
In wait for this moment
His entire life

I'd like to raise a toast
Raise the roof
Wait for the dough to rise
Wait for the proof

I'd like to make a toast
Raise of misspelt sunlight
Rising early with the ****
Rising for the joy
Pure joy

Everyone in this city looks tired
There's a policeman in white gloves
A whistle clamped tight between his lips
He's not afraid to use
He is flapping in my direction
I give an apologetic grimace
For the many crimes I have
Apparently just committed and
Speed off into a crowd of tired tokyoites

Shinkansen baby
Whizzing across the
Land of the rising sun

Bullet train baby
Shooting straight through
The heart of Japan

What was that blur
Causing such a stir

It's the Shinkansen baby.

'We' are in uproar
'We' being the Anglo Americana Axis
'The West' if you will
Our uproar, this time
Russian election meddling
Now of course the yanks and brits
Have clean hands and
Every right to sit atop
Their lofty mule
'We' follow the rules
No backhand games in Africa, Iran
The entire Middle East
Not that 'We'll' admit at least
No, for now it's uproar
The West's sizeable stallion rears up
At the sly old bear
Who is stealing our tricks

I went for the wine
I stayed for the cheese
We just want you to be happy
We're so eager to please

Everyone's so affable
It's nigh on ****** laughable
So I do

So cool and well adjusted
Eating artichokes with mustard
I laugh hot wet laughs

Amongst the dry dry dry dry
Dry whites

Cafe cheveux echecs
bon dimanche bien les mecs
pas un jour pour les miserables
en plein soleil trop a l'aise

The afrojazz that plays at the
entrance of the synagogue
that's the mood

There is a complete
lack of colour
Behind an ancient
Pillar we scheme

He meekly approaches, saying
Hey, I hope this is cool
But I'm pretty sure we went
To the same school

I cut him short, said
What has that got to do with me?
That ship sailed long ago
Now we're all at sea

He laughs, saying
You're as spiky as back then
It's a kind of comfort to know you haven't changed
And to know we're still
not friends

I drop my basket and leave

Two beaten baboons
Cling to each other
His dear wives

Kids flinch
Cross banana fingers
Hope for the best

Flamingos are shallow as ****

'How do lions go?'
'Rrrrah'
'See him in the corner
Shall we go to the shop
And buy one'

The last time I was
At the zoo
I contracted
   Ragworm

Regal tangs
In aquariums
Across the globe
Are sick to the back gills
Of being called Dory
By over excited children

S
Lucy really wants to eat a mountain chicken frog
Lucy would touch that croc's
Xylophone tail
No issues
Lucy doesn't reckon
I could pass
As a zoologist

The man who
Lives under the
Flower beds
In st Andrew's park

Is a lonely
Bitter
Little man

Enduring his
Entire life
Without knowing of the beauty
That lay a worm's width
Above his eyebrows

The chickens aren't happy
They aren't laying

The farmer, concerned
Takes to praying

To a poultry god
He's always doubted

Hard times call
For hard and fast rules
To be flouted.

The origins of our hero
Neil Heaven
Is a tale that
following in the footsteps of a great many tales
Has been whispered and shouted
Twisted and doubted
Far too many times to mean much of anything anymore

This much I can confidently state as fact
Neil Heaven is a cat
Neil Heaven is the cat.

Neil Heaven was once so overwhelmingly chill
He slippped into such a
Dazed state complete with
Contented drooling smile
That concerned
Botanical garden staff felt compelled
To contact a feline psychotherapist
Who was able to assure everyone that
Neil Heaven
Was far from unwell
He was in fact
Wellness itself

Wellness catsonified.


Neil Heaven was once
Headhunted by the dogs
But politely declined
Reportedly stating
'All creatures are equal in the eyes of
Neil Heaven
I must respectfully decline but
Am ever so flattered by your
Interest'

Chatting to my pal
Neil Heaven
Recently
It came out he'd never
Seen the internet and
Was unsure exactly what it was for

So I explained that it was access to pretty much the
Collective knowledge of the
human race
Neil Heaven smiled gracefully
Turning to leave purrs
'But I already have that'

Neil Heaven
Takes an annual tour
of the vineyards at Châteauneuf-du-Pape
To share the fruits
Of his gifts in the field of oenology.

I recently decided to try my hand at being one of those peskytarians
I wasn't completely sure what had finally prompted it
Until, enjoying a lie in one
Monday morning
I noticed how clear
The mooing of the cows was
Drifting through my open window
I realised they must have been asking me to give it a rest on the whole eating them thing
So if any cows happen to be reading this then rest assured
Moossage recieved loud and clear
There'll be no beef past these lips
You have my word

The brexit boxer
Bang got slapped about
Ploof banked his check
This is not a distress signal
What are you being paid for?
I sailed through as all the
Security checks bounced

Even keel
Sitting in the dark eating lard

The 52nd state thanks you for your service
Missing vowels bow before the Constant changing of the guard

The aptly named place Bellevue
At the time of writing contains
Eleven beating hearts
Nine, discounting my own
And that of a canine

Three, gaze out to where clouds meet
Peaks in a conspiring huddle
One, seated, inhales her clouds
Burning down from peak to basecamp
One ignores a dog with clear attachment issues

Two stroll in tandem, occasionally comparing screens
Two have wandered off in a
Calculated effort to avoid the
nosy parker on the next bench

Befuddled with being
Sink into your body

When they leave do you think
They hesitate
Turn and make a farewell sign
Some gesture of regret

When they leave the music is loudest
The music is loudest
The sun is high

Manna from heaven
Main celestiel
Noonday sunlight

'We're looking for Salcombe on sea'
Brown cows crowd around
Vincent and me

Uphill and down
Nothing but brown cows
As far as the eye can see

Raising a hoof directs
'Two green fields over you'll see the sea
I've mooed here all my life
You can trust me'

Don't wait till middle age
To have a crisis
Keep trying to express yourself
The world is waiting like a hungry baby

We met on the common
Amongst discarded blue lightbulbs and
Loose change
It quickly became clear we have
Nothing in common
The fair had moved on long ago
So had we.

Death hung in the air
As thick as biscuits

The milliner went
Mad as a hatter
Exhausted from playing the field
Spin bowler and batter

And death hung in the air
As thick as biscuits

The baker excels
At idle chatter
Drinking pints of cream
Pink buns by the platter

And death hung in the air
As thick as biscuits

The banker needs
Needs someone to flatter
A strict rotation of ties
The same old patter

And death hung in the air
As thick as biscuits

Bus driver let me off 90p today
He felt like a benevolent god
I counted thirteen individuals on the top deck - seven visible phones
Five women
Six men
Two point four children

The lady in the blue jeans
Sat in the beer garden felt me watching
She flicked her hair to that
I can feel you watching angle

At the roundabout the blond in the ford
Looks nervous
Dark street lane
Is double named

That was bang out of order
She's still running
Wonders what the acceptable term is for boss eyed
Crossing the chalk stream
Hand car wash
Past the cycling lycra carrying baked goods

Cheers then driver

The baying gulls they laugh at me
The sea breeze makes me ill
The pasty man shout fresh today
I think I've had my fill

The graceful gulls they swoop and flock
To greet me with a shriek
To stir me in the morning
To sing me off to sleep

Fire at playland
Two fire engines
In attendance
Great fun

Carnival week
Comprised of the ever popular
Pram race, a resounding success, once again
In spite of adverse weather conditions

Tributes to the late great
Popeye rolled along the
Main strip

An eleven foot Guy Fawkes looms
Over the tarmac
A tractor towed lifeboat leads
The way

An array of competitive twirling troops
Dampen the mood

Fire at playland
Two fire engines
In attendance
Great fun

Apéro chez Yves
Towards place de jacobins I weave
On parle à batons rompus
You envy me, I envy you
Les yeux honnêtes de votre femme
Invite me in to join her clan
Du piano vous tirez la voix de Brahms
I recline, completely charmed
C'est aussi doux que vous, ce muscadet
No finer way to pass a day
Qu'un apéro chez Yves

The man in the mustard shirt
Stares through the crowd
Showering them with
Well measured words
And sardonic smiles

Proped up by his lady in red
I wish he'd let her sing more
If I saw him in the pub
Tightly knit curls
Resting on his pronounced brow

If I saw him in the pub
I'd allow him to purchase
One half of pale ale for me
He can do what he likes
With the other half
-

Patrick Lawrence was too late for the H and M super sale
He ended up with a turquoise shirt and sunblushed salmon chino
Combination which doesn't work on myriad levels

He played the bass though
Redeeming himself through the medium of song
He is almost forgiven