I make light of it but I wonder why is it that when sixty-five is the new forty, 9 pm becomes midnight.
when I was young, which came before the egg by the way,
things were certainly different,
old was anyone over five feet three and posh was anyone on the black and white TV,
everyone today wants to be sixteen or influencers on Tik-Tok,
all I wanted to do was to watch Dixon of Dock Green.
Things could be worse though
I know that.
Is isolation helping me?
am I financing my own therapy?
the blue pill or the red pill?
you're not ill until
Schroedinger says so.
we're all sinking into the darkness,
except for the politicians who are
stretching this pandemic out and
getting their money's worth.
Where do fallen angels go?
I wish you'd tell me because
I don't know and a voice
'that's a lie'
I'm on my way then?
and to somewhere far below.
I'm forever falling,
got so used to it,
perhaps it's my calling,
some are called to the bar
and some to the cloth,
but I have been called
like a moth to the flame.
It is Sunday and raining
I'm recharging my battery
because it keeps draining,
do Duracell really last longer?
I, a rose???
oops, I mean,
I rows the boat until I gets to the island
I rows the boat back again,
it's an 'orrible job but someone has to do it,
dreamlife is just real life when you're asleep
I keep that in one of my minds and my other minds
which change quite frequently don't mind at all.
They call him a crazy madman
send him to live in Bedlam
but only because he bothers them
he never bothers me.
how bold of them to allow me back into the fold again,
my analytical side tells me that it's a test
whoever heard of a cuckoo building a nest?
It gets late on the estate quite early
the street lights come on when daylight fades
shopkeepers pull down their toughened shutters
which fend off the crash and grab raids.
teething babies dosed with whiskey to soothe them
and a whiff of coal gas makes them sleep,
priests are doling out absolution,
life here is awfully cheap.
a whiff of coal gas to make babies sleep is perhaps no more than a northern myth.
..and so it's nearly done
I am back in the Amphi'
praising the Son as the Sun
goes down on me.
but history has taught me
that the crooked go scot-free,
I should have stayed bent,
and as close as the time gets
there is no time for any regrets
there is only time to remember
the good times.
We have to
disengage from the mainframe and
get into the main game but we're tame
and asleep, led around like sheep, fed bull
believing it's a three-course.
we're not even a status update
we don't warrant a second look
our destinies are as yet unfulfilled
we're the blanks in a colouring
Saturday and the temperature's rising
it's getting hot in the old pied-a-terre
she calls me back into the bedroom,
two seconds flat and I'm there.
You're pinned to a notice board and you have to use your left eye as a ripcord and the right eye scans the night sky but you know you're a mile high and yet wondering how you're breathing and then you realise that you're dreaming until you hear someone screaming and the whole thing comes alive.
someone's stealing backgrounds and selling them to foreign gentlemen and I want to wonder why but the eye that scans the night sky turns a blind eye to these goings-on and I am none the wiser.
getting dressed in
even more so
when you've been out
and slept in the park.
I cut myself on the razor of hope
as I slipped on the bar of good fortune soap
and now I know that it's all a plot and I don't
mean a plot of land where I can turn my hand
to a bit of gardening,
someone's got it in for me
someone's out there and waiting to get me
oh grow up, you've got to go to work.
I've got the beer in to see the night out before I put the lights out, I'll be half-cut, but in dreams, no one seems to notice.
Friday for lost souls and all places to...
the tannoy squawks,
someone talks to me but I'm talked out,
there are no words to come out
so I remain silent.
forgot to pick up the dry cleaning,
too much dreaming I suppose.
Bronze silver and old medals.
Officially worn out
dog tired but still wired
to the terminals,
my eyes are watering
my hair is thinning
I think that time is
winning this war.
I'm not going to throw in the towel just yet
and in case
I didn't pass go just to go and meet my maker
I am still in the game and ready to take a
long hard look at myself.
I heard that the
three thirty third
field artillery battalion
were a fine bunch
and still are
in my opinion.
The Wereth Eleven, docufilm on Youtube
We all go through the same sort of ****,
at some point, we all got to walk it,
not that we're pirates or brigands
or looking to score the big 'uns,
just part of the family,
landlubbers, not wanting to walk into the sea.
on the other hand
some are a roguish band of cutthroats and thieves,
Westminster leaves us all standing at the starting post
and the starting post is the plank.
It popped out quite haphazardly
almost as if to dazzle me
but it's only ****** Wednesday
making a nuisance of itself.
The cashmere queen was in my dream
eyeing up my soul
looking deep into me with those eyes
as black as coal,
as we broke up so I woke up and
we'll take up where we left off,
good things are hard to come by.
I ate one coconut ring
then another and suddenly
it was three rings,
( could have been the postman,
but he always knocks, twice )
Garibaldi's are nice but since Brexit,
and it's the same with Battenburg cake.
I'm sticking to Pontefract cakes
even if they are from Yorkshire.
You're looking to the future
I've just seen it passing through you,
that's how quick it comes and goes.
and when it's gone and come and gone
the time goes on and on and on
and you're still looking?
I woke quite late
in that soporific drunken state
last night I didn't drink
don't even think I slept,
I must be starved of oxygen!
men need that, you know,
I'm going to open up my eyes
and let this feeling go.
We were down on the North Quay, wearing gloves and winter coats, Danno and Bobby and me unloading the boats that came in from the sea, there were others too but I can't remember who they were, just stevedores like us busting a gut to empty a hold, looking for gold and finding only pumice stone.
there isn't a now
there never was
there was only a then
and older then
and getting older
and this is the start of it
you're either in it and a
part of it or you're not.
...and when you go into town now
you have to run the gauntlet
of the fast food outlet,
outlets that sell chicken for less than the price of cat food!
don't you ever wonder what's in the chicken?
but I don't want to put you off what should put you off
even though I believe the whole fast food thing's off,
you must carry on doing what you're doing
which is turning yourself into a modern day ruin,
may even become a tourist attraction.
When the pen dies and the ink,
But then is already here,
my fear is
once upon a time when 64k was touching on infinity
just around the corner mate
wait for an hour and three
shut up and listen up
we're not getting out of this
there'll be no second coming
there will only be us going as
we're hammered back to the
reading illuminated pages
who in Gods name does that?
What does language do to you?
a grunt will do
a nod of the head
it appears to be
that language is dead
trying to hang on
in a salute,
**** a snook,
what does that mean anyway?
They only come alive when
you don't stand and look
but step inside them,
The Mona Lisa,
The Birth of Venus
The Last Supper,
The Night Watch,
The Laughing Cavalier,
Van Gogh, self-portrait,
the man with one ear,
inside them all
in some grandiose
or maybe it's just a dream.
Because you're psychotic
because of narcotics,
you're a ******!
I've got it,
there's no need to go on,
we do, don't we?
because we like to see them
the broken down people,
because we are the
we wouldn't be them men
and yet we are them,
we're locked in our own worlds
the same as being locked in asylums
medicating with alcohol
because drugs are bad for you.
Then there's the Home Office register
which I think is quite sinister
names in a book
take a look
is yours there,
do you care?
and the church view,
do you take religion ******
or is it just the Oramorph
is that morally wrong?
What do I know?
I am all of them,
all of the lost and the lonely men
wrapped in the trappings of a
which by the way,
They built a mausoleum for us and called it a modern museum for us where people could go and cry, but everyone passes us by because nobody wants to cry anymore, every one of us is all cried out, there are no more tears, there's only tax and those blasted monkeys on our backs.
Now they've built a museum for the mausoleum,
deja vu for the few in the know
Stalin would be having a field day
if only he hadn't passed away
we're still trying to pass water
some are still trying to pass go.
You put it off and you put it off
even though you know it has got to be done,
but the weather looks awfully tragic
so you try to magic up a bit of the sun.
This is the weekend at the end of the line,
there's no point in complaining
because we don't have the time,
the thought's getting harder and harder,
thinking I have to go shopping to fill up
why not do it online?
I don't have the time to be fiddling
it'll not be the internet burning
it will just be me sinking into the sea
turning into a quivering wreck.
Who will follow on from one who ****** the diamond and the dollar, who will seek the holy grail until the end of a tomorrow, who will fall with failing eyesight never seeing his Nirvana, will the mountain and Mohammed come to some form of agreement?
she sent me unsigned colour postcards from a place called Alicante
and I never knew her name or who it was that she was meant to be,
but the scenery was perfect and the beaches were all pristine and the ocean was a mirror reflecting things I wish I could have seen
and when you think you're being saved
you know the saviour cannot see you
because the harbour lights will blind him
and when you find it hard to find him in
the shadows that are broken in the waves of
voices breaking on the pristine beaches
you know that it is taking you away.
What happened to Hollywoodland
where did it go,
what became of the legends
that we used to know?
Crawford, Garland Hepburn Bacall,
Dietrich, Garbo, where did they go?
And Tracy, Douglas, Hitchcock and Flynn,
Clift and Valentino, where did they go?
It's all gone video and somewhat to hell
and not one of them left to tell
I've got a cold
and I'm sweating.
It's time to take time out
time decides to take me out
My heart's fine
it's everything else that is aching
every little pain is taking the time
to let me know that it's there.
Went shopping to
' Forever 21 '
when I was 64,
and I was still 64
when I came out of the store.
forever is never forever
it's just clever marketing.
The rain's heading in from the palace,
Alexandra, not Buckingham,
the air is charged and if the government has its way
it'll be at four pounds per litre.
They're taking more national insurance
leaving us with a pittance,
a tax on ***?
Thursday letting the light in and I might in
five minutes or so get up and go
about my business.
If you cannot understand how this shower has lied to you, thieved from you and then blamed you, remove yourself from the conversation, walk down the road to the railway station buy a ticket and *** off.
***** is as ***** does and
soft-soaping the coating doesn't
make a dum-dum any the less
*** vol: 61
When the radio comes on
and you think you're 'on one'
because you haven't quite woken
the thought flits,
this is it, I've gone off my rocker,
but the clock chimes in and the time
pins my eyes,
unscrambling the neurons
trying to get a groove on
can't get my socks on
it's **** getting old.
You'll get windmill soup if it goes around or scotch mist on toast if it don't, Mother had lots of sayings like this.
But we were all well fed
you could have seen more fat on a greasy chip.
none of that processed muck,
we tucked into meat and potato pies
carrots and greens, boiled and steamed
it always seemed to me to be
It's nearly time to call the time
for the fall into sleep
and down below the hollows in the face of many sorrows
a smile lights up the night,
only smiles in dreams can beam that way, the way they take the day away and turn it into fantasy, is it you? it could be me, it could be anyone you see or have ever seen, it's only one more dream,
playdoh init though?
markets that market
should shove their
where the sun don't see.
everyone wants to be Long John
doing that pirating ****,
I haven't pirated since B.C
but I might do some in a bit.
Someone crying somewhere
trying somehow to
get back there,
and those whose
tears fail them
to the cross.
The years that passed between your ears
the modelling of men
the making of the here and now
when all we want is then.
Back and forth and drink a fifth
fall forward on your face
you think it's you that's crying
but you're somewhere else
Today I'm one day older
feel the cold a
Turns out that
Autumn's not a flavour it's
just a feeling that I've been here
many times before.
The gas lamps hiss and sputter
as the morning comes,
and they're shut off,
And I'm not surprised
that the alarm clock
sounds so angry,
it's not yet six o-clock.
Monday fell on me.
You won't laugh as the night falls
when all blood in your cells freeze
and the nine degrees of Dante
seem so real,
how do you feel about it now,
hot and bothered
are you bothered?
I'm not bothered because
I'm down to the sixth and only
three more to go.
been there and done it
lost it and won it
there's no fun in it
We become live bait on a live feed
the next generational need,
the old weeded out
the weak thrown out
look without paying and you'll
be shown out,
the door of
life's just a peekaboo we go through,
it doesn't lead anywhere and if it did
where would it go?
I can imagine myself
as a choirboy,
Sunday does that to you,
flattens the curve for you
and fattens the calf for you
if you are a Vegetarian
don't get a look in.
The Vicar's sat in the clink
what was I thinking,
and not for what you're thinking
he got caught drinking and driving
and is now doing a stretch in Dartmoor.
I can remember how we made out under the old love apple tree
then I chopped it down for firewood and the fire also warmed me,
a memory but I can't remember from when.
Men are like that and sometimes they're not,
got too much time on your hands, she says,
I don't think there are enough hours to fit into the
days we're together,
and I can't remember what or when if ever.
I'll be saved once again down in Stratford
if I repent and go down on my knees,
but it's a toss-up between two religions
and I wonder which one I should please.
Jesus holds court up in Nero's
and the saints do their stuff
while in Pret'
I'm sat on the steps
listening to all of God's rep's
still watching the girls passing by.
When I die where I'll go is a mystery
worthy of Maigret or Holmes,
but I guess I'll end up in the graveyard
as a pile of old broken down bones.
I sit down to writing
because I'm spending the night in
there's a knock at the door,
sorely tempted to ignore it,
are they knocking at my door for?
'come out for a drink'
I write no more.
A good idea would be
to chop off all the deadwood
from the worn out sycamore tree,
the sycamore tree is me
and then it won't be
a good idea,
it'll be ******
note to Jessica
Fletcher is waiting
and he ain't no Christian.
you went to get tested
but instead, you got wasted,
common mistakes are all that it takes
to make more and more common mistakes.
anyway, Saturday and what's on the menu?
shopping and cleaning and have you seen me in
a pinafore before?
when the bomb drops
the house will be spotless.
I could do with more days like these days when she stays with me.
Cowboys on horses,
because they're all
driving Range Rovers,
are the days of the
wild cattle drovers,
are the gentlemen gangsters,
only a grapefruit remains.
I'm catching up in black and white,
watching old films through the night
crying for lost legends.
Wise or wizened
free or imprisoned?
Facebook will tell you
shucks, I knew that.
I have read thread upon thread
the dead leading the dead,
it's like being in the valley
Wurzel and Aunt Sally,
coconut shy to the right.
When there's too much salt in the water you're drinking,
you're probably drowning,
which is a thought that reoccurs, so pay no heed to me,
I've never been to sea, never had that urge,
but one can drown in London Town,
I see them with hands raised
as if the God they praised would
save them from sinking
or stop others from putting the boot in,
and the Government are just