one for America.

'jimmy crack corn
and I don't care..'
because
it's Friday,

yaaay

So
there we were
bare assed on the beach
ripping each other to shreds
ha
because boys do that
I expect girls do that too

we
were cruel to each other
but there was no one to teach us
and why would they bother?

kids
growing up
knowing nothing
but the freedom of
being

and then suddenly
it's twenty twenty-three
sixty years passed by me
and I hardly felt the breeze.

Looking for the answers before I formulate the questions and that begs the question
but I don't have the answer as to why
and why can be anything, nothing, something to take my mind off
things I can't answer, they call it transference, it runs interference and stops the overload,
there are pills that do that too,

It didn't have to be Wednesday
it could have been Thursday
it should have been Friday
but no
it's Wednesday

So
I'll get on with it
and I'll either go
under
or
rise above it

it still didn't have to be
Wednesday.

Well,

it's Tuesday,

the wish never worked.

Monday was so far away from Friday
when I stood to say
yaay
the weekend
and now
Friday is a distant land
a memory folded in my hand to put away.

Kneeling,
almost keeled over
but
Jesus saved me again,

now
he may or may not be
someone or someone's idea
of a fantasy

I'll go with the flow
downstream to a dream
because in the dream I'll know.

That was easy

wish it all worked like this
wish a kiss made everything better
wish I knew.

yep
and
I'm thinking *** ya
you ain't got the time
to tuck me
into bed and
read me a story

I've seen it
the mirror
and Alice,
Lucifer
and the chalice
I wonder
If I can cast
a spell.

Imagine
we're down with the smithy
getting quite squiffy
and
Lady Chatterley
is getting ******.

I'm not going down that road again
he said,
as he went down that road again.

The learning curve is often a
Scimitar and by Scimitar
I don't mean that car
produced by Reliant,
but rather the sword
that hangs like Damocles
although
how Damocles hangs is
none of my business.

Friday,
he said
enthusiastically
and knowing that no one
ever listens to me
I said
Friday
very quietly.

The sun rises above the fountains
highlighting
the mountains of trash,
which gives rise to a time tested adage,
aye,
where theer's muck theer's brass.

time for coffee.

Oh,
staring at the sheet
staring at the..
..****
this must be the writer
and his block,

so glad I got to meet and greet
the writer staring at the sheet
I think that I might stare awhile
at least
until the sheet begins to smile,

the writer pays no heed
I follow his lead
and pay no rent,
got evicted
now living in a tent
staring at the sheet.

When you think of writing poetry,
but coffee comes to mind,
I say
if you can't think it
drink it.

Reasons to be cheerful.

it's Friday tomorrow

Reasons not to be cheerful

it's Friday tomorrow

some people are never satisfied.

..and before Sun up
I'll be up
waiting for the Sun
to come up and
inspire me...

..and that tires me
as if  two hit men
were out there
conspiring against me
but of course
that's me and my ego
going at it hammer and tong,

both right and at the same time
both wrong.

I'll say so long and then wonder
how long is so long?
not long enough
I expect.

My feet are aching
which
makes a change from my head.

The day went like a snail through glue,
slow, although it's true that the hours
were the same the minutes appeared to
be queuing in a long line for the sales,

more snails, more glue,
perhaps my aching feet are
a sign of the times
more snails in lines
more glue, more times,
signs for me
to do what I'd like to do
except
for the glue.

Basically, it's been a long day.

I have been known to be accident prone
and like the morning I break once again.

Fit?
well
if fit for *** all counts,
then
yes, I am.

The umbrella comes out
leaving us in no doubt
that Summer is
here.

but it should be
hot and sticky,
ice lollies calling
you can cool down
when you lick me

ah
but raining is what we're used to
****** wet through
because we didn't wear a coat

this kind of Summer really
gets my goat.

well it would
if I had one.

You could try to scratch a living
or just scratch your initials
on the walls of asylums

we're not that being in
that being that we're not,
and what does that mean?
ah
the mirror speaks the truth
but the glass is often fogged.

it's like they used a blender on my brain cells
she screams Kenwood? but my name is John
and all I hear are the bells and so It carries on.

it'll settle down
and
I'll settle in to writing my life
on the point of a pin.

It sits there brooding
trying to figure out
what mood I'm in
and it's only Tuesday.

My obituary.
he paddled up **** creek
seeking a tributary.

Face your fears they said,
but what if you want to stay in bed
and go back to sleep?


don't fret yet
I'm building up to being happy
it just takes time.

Then,
oh yeah
then
they'll say
look how far we've come,

I like to remind them
that we're still the 3rd Rock from the Sun.


thanks to Bonnie and Terry Turner for the idea.

The best way to get through Monday is to sleep,
keep that in mind the next time you find yourself late
on a Sunday night wondering what you'll do on Monday.

Take it from me
I've seen quite a few
and
slept through lots more.

Remember the
unemployment destroyers
from the 'failure files'?
well
they're still active
somewhere in Cardiff
but moving East.

closing your eyes and
wishing it so
does not make a Monday
go,
but it will
in time
be relegated
to the third division
and these memories of mine
will be enriched
when
Monday's been ditched.

I expected more of the weekend
like, for instance
three months.

Get up
shower
coffee
train
work
work
work
train
home
shower
coffee
sl­eep
get up
shower...

I no longer wonder why I broke
I'm just surprised at how long it took

Those Holy Rollers are still tucked up in bed,
the bells haven't started ringing
no choirs singing
no one offering the offertory
no long-winded sermon to bother me

this is why Sunday at 6 in the morning
gets my vote

There was never a plan
no this, no man
no never, no then or than
no fukin plan
but
fruition came
limes dropped like lemons
to finish whatever game it was
and
what was it then?

men'll tell you
what you want to hear,
but if you're savvy
it's in one and out of the other ear,

ah
Grammarly's on my case,
this doesn't work
this isn't right
you shouldn't write this
on a Saturday night,

*******
Grammarly.

hey,
I'm okay,
this is just pottery
disguised as **** poetry,
Grammarley's still on my case.

It's the ghosts that make ghost towns ghost towns,
those in black Crombie coats
and them in winceyette dressing gowns
not knowing that they are the ghosts
the only inhabitants of ghost towns.

I don't know what to do
so I take in the view
and it's you that I see,
are you looking at me?

Riding on the crest of a ripple in the stream
watching trailing comets and it all seems like
a dream
and then
the sun comes up shining
above a cypress tree,
I take in the view
are you looking at me?

Blam
and here I am,
it was going to be
Glam
and here I am
but then I saw myself
in the mirror
so
it's
Blam,

Friday shot away
the remnants of a falling Thursday
which is definitely
Glam
but it did sound  like
Blam.

And already sleep is just a memory
a way to get from
A to B
journeys in a straight line through
the corridors of night time

I'm making coffee.

They think they're building empires
I think about the fires of Rome.

I also think that Sainsbury's should shut up shop
and ******* far away from home,
it turns out to be
that they're pricing me
out of the market,

I have a name for that and it's,
greedy *******.

we're all plugging away
for a dollar and a dime a day
and can't afford a loaf of bread.

(20 minute poetry )

I'm already tired and I haven't started yet,
it's ******* it down with rain and I am soaking wet,

there's a bright side on the far side which is the right side facing me
but at the present time it's not a pleasant time as any fool can see.

I'll get over it
I always have.

So, if
that's the outlook
because there's **** all I can do
I'll escape into a Mills and Boon
and
think nice thoughts of you.

Just checking
yep
still raining
think I'll stay in
bed.

But the clock has chimed so many times
I got to learn its tune
there's nothing left for me to do,
well
maybe tidy up my room,

and it's
aye, aye Captain Kipper
or is it A.I, A.I ?

that's a poser,

ha
Miss Penelope has a chauffeur
goes by the name of Parker,
and he's a shady ******
to be sure.

The writing on the wall
has been digitised
in order to fool your eyes.

the truth is not what it was.

Caffeine does not affect me
onmysixteenthcupofcoffee
it's the world that's speeding up.

It must be Tuesday someone tells me
which rings a bell down in the pantry,
breakfast will soon be served.

Fighting off temptation
even though it's early morning
trying to put the storm back in
the box.

These thoughts will fade away as
the day comes into play
unless I hear her say
come back to bed.

Thought I heard a stream burbling
but realised it was a baby burbling
and the stream gurgling was in
my imagination,

these things
are sent to try us,
well
I've tried me for years and years
and I still don't fit into myself.

more imagination seems to be
the baby or the stream
that burbles or gurgles in me,

now,
I have to lie down and think about this
which saves me from doing anything else.

Monday's counting coup on more than the Sioux and the Cheyenne might be in on it too,
looks like Sunday blew me away slap bang into today and there's sod all that this pilgrim can do.

so
shake off the dust from the prairie
say a Hail Mary and
ready myself for what is to be.

In the church of misunderstood memes, the silence of prayers seems quite picturesque, Madonna with the child at her breast, covered so that Facebook won't block it, bells bigger than ***** in her Ladyship's halls and the faithful all hopeful of a profitable time.

Linguistically,
Latin is doing my head in
and it's also a pain in the ****


that came out of nowhere
and it's going right back there.

Ok
Sunday
and on Sunday we pray and give thanks to the Lord until we get bored and **** orf down the local for an imported beer.

..and now I'm in a quandary
it should have been a quarry
but autocorrect decided that
a quandary was where
I ought to be,

Even my curses come out in cursive.

Fukin oat milk!
Jeezuus H Wallbanger.

I'll get the hang of this one day
but before then
it's coffee with milk
not
cafe au lait

okay.

A disc jockey spins records
and a
dish jockey spins dishes
spins for spins
the dish jockey
wins
hey,
it's music
even if it is
soapy.

Well,
I've had the ***** and mothers ruin and now I'm brewing some real,
that's the origin of the Oregan trail, drink until you fail to supply the necessities,

I got riled by the miles we had travelled
fed by the arch of the plains and their arrows,
I should have stayed put in Drygulch
alone with the shadows
should have stuck to the road that I knew.

She,
oh and wasn't she so purty
I was stuck on her
like molasses to a honey tree
I wanted
and she pretended she couldn't
see
that she was in fact
the necessity.

There's no use in you complaining
that this Party's not entertaining,
that my writing
is what they wrap
the night in
to bury on a moor.

No mate, or
I'm going to burn up on re-entry
because that crap craft that they lent me
is full of wild dreams we deleted and girls
who'll never meet me in real life.

If on the flipside
there's a riptide
where the tide is racing in
you'd better learn to swim
or vote for me.

Friday
startled me,
the way it came in so suddenly,

like a breath of fresh air
but
the heat still hangs in these hinges
making my old bones creak,
he whinges
and there's more yet to come.

Challenges are challenging
even though I've put my time in
I am still challenged,

sabres or pistols at dawn?
this
is not why we were born,

surely not.

Seconds,
use them or lose them
but don't then accuse them
of wasting your time.

Time
for another cup of jolt
two-forty volt
AC.

In memory of
the way it used to be
when
employers valued you
and even valued me

They put us on the balance sheets
as disposables or
fixtures ill-fitting,

reconciling the irreconcilable
I am trying to avoid trouble
and
failing miserably
because I see
the way it used to be.

This is about the time you want to go up to the grow-up outlet and get a refund,
I woke up an hour early because I thought it was an hour later,
this is what growing up does to you, it ***** up your sense of timing.
still
what's the point of moaning unless you're a ghost of course and then it comes with the territory,

My pulse starts to race
my eyes pin
because I've just seen
what the cat dragged in,

what a flamin' state
and for this
they pay
above union rate,

I'm going fishin'

For me, it's one more win
and it's no wonder that the grim
reaper looks cheesed off,
another fail
one more boat across the Styx
that will not sail

I told him
go to jail
do not pass go
do not collect two hundred
and
off he thundered
in that reaper kind of way

Monday was tough
Tuesday will be tough
Wednesday, tough
Thursday is still tough
by Friday
having had enough of the tough
it'll be sweet and
you'll be able to taste it,
cut, copy and paste it
to..

...and here's the toast,

The Weekend.

Its always been a lie
Andy Pandy never waved goodbye and
Bill and Ben were only the stage names of the Flowerpot Men

my childhood is in the dustbin along with Rag, Tag and Bobtail
and to be quite frank, I don't think that 'Tales of the Riverbank' was real either,

but I'm over it now

..and I love her
like the candle loves the flame.