We now know that the best liar won
and there'll be no extra coal in the fire
for pensioners,
absolutely none.

They have their heating
paid for by
beating the poorest.
the
***** rotten scoundrels.

Winter ought to be
as far as I can see
discontinued,
all it does is give one the blues
when singing in the rain
don't cut the mustard,

dull and grey
oh
what a day,
but it could be a night,
not light enough to see
yet.

He's off his friggin' trolley
LOL he
thinks they're eating dogs
and cats
that man is absolutely bats.

Even as your hands would cling tight to it
your mind will let it go and your body rests
in ignorance of what you'll never know.

in the underpass that underpins the goings on above
there is scant regard or need for anything to do with love,
and the lights are painted red
and the walls are black with slime
and still, we cling to what has gone
until what has gone has gone for one more time

and we are hostages to the hostels
and the ransoms are our stories
to be noted down by men with frowns
some in cassocks
and some in gowns
and we learn to pray for our food each day
and for a sermon from the host.

Lincoln's Inn will provide providence and the final slide
and we'll bow before the Beak, silent,
we were not allowed to speak,
and who would hear us anyway?

I was halfway through reading Black Beauty and then I broke my arm, I never blamed this on Anna Sewell even though I was so engrossed in her novel that I never saw the car that hit me, but that taught me absolutely nothing,

I finished the book, The surgeon fixed my arm, the nurse gave me a lollypop because she said that I was too young for a glass of Mackeson, which, by the way, they gave to patients in the old days before everything got modern.

That was in the old infirmary where Nan worked for a time, a Victorian throwback which happened not to be a drawback to the work they did there and it's still there but now surrounded by a fine coat of even finer building where they do finer work or so I've been told,
but I'm old and they'll tell me anything to shut me up.

Ten years!
a decade,
did I fade?

Do you think I still look good?
would you tell me or
would you
let me go on imagining that
I'm still in the spring of my life.

What then in another ten
will I know you
will you remember me
will we even be?

I know that I'm no longer him who goes to the gym to build up his pecs,
I'm the man inside wearing slippers and specs who pets the dog and goes out at night to look at the stars,
but somehow the same.

Life only gets livelier when you live it.

Today does not know that it is Monday
the light has not penetrated yet,
but not knowing it won't make it
go away,
today
will still be Monday.

Who would buy my dreams,
sight unseen and take them on trust?