The question is
not what shall I write
but what shall I write
tonight,

I'm lost without her
not talking
Sonny without Cher
just
lost without her.

The dying embers of a
dying
why I
don't know
but here
I grow
mosslike.

He knows but doesn't tell
I know too
she knows too well
but
would she like me to write tonight?

So
because
there's always a so.

You think
you're charging your phone
when in fact
your phone's charging you.

aw,
for **** sake
it's getting late
and
another day gone,
but
tomorrow will come
and
that one willing
I will go on
and on
and on
ad nauseam

see
when I was young
the old people were respected
most if not all of them
born into the Victorian age
and they had wisdom by the
bucketful which hung weekly
on the washing lines,

my Nan knew those times
some were dark times
bomb bursts on the front line,
times
but mostly
her younger times
full of joy,

Grandad then was only a boy
met Nan and more joy,
my
Dad and his siblings came later

Thinking it was a craft
I spent years
perfecting
the art of appearing daft
and
I managed to fool them all,

then
it all went random,
'something for the weekend'
became as simple as a ******,

people became forthright
almost as if
it was their birthright
I just wanna watch
Ben Cartwright
down there on the
Ponderosa.

..and all over England
they sit in pavillions
them what has millions
squirrelled away
watching eleven men
who'll
have a bat at the ball again,

it doesn't feel like cricket
to me

One fine day
when woke has won
and there's **** all left
to
be offended about
the coaches will call a
time out
and they can all go back to sleep.

Meanwhile
they're queueing down on Broadway
to see the latest show
supposed to be quite brilliant
but I don't think that I'll go
because there's a little place off Broadway
which is really rather quaint and frequented
by the greasepaint crew
when they've nothing else to do,

and it's darling this and lovey that
from Quentin in the Fedora hat
and from the bow-fronted window
I can see
not much because now I'm drunk.

growing up as fast as I can
and one day
I shall be a grown man
a stand-alone man
alone man?
*** it
I'm staying where I am.

Her eyes hold you prisoner
you're tongue-tied
and helpless,
but
she is the shepherdess
taking you home.

Happy that it's Friday
and I'm happy work is through
for tonight the weekend starts
I really think it's overdue,

a little tipple for me and you
a kiss upon the cheek or two
we might even play some peek-a-boo-
oh yes,
I'm happy work is through.

Eroding,
I am wearing away
bits falling off and
my feet turning to clay,

perhaps
I'm becoming that statue
the one with the missing arms
ah well
no harm in that,

people will come to see me
I won't be lonely.

The kind folk say,
I'm just weathering well,
those kinds of folk can
go to hell.

Thursday didn't grab me like a nice glass of Chablis would, but all in all, it was good, work passed, ( sadly, not away ) and I marked myself safe getting home today.

I showered but didn't shave
going to save that pleasure
until tomorrow
which just happens to be
Friday.

Fast asleep in someone's dream to be woken unceremoniously at four fifteen,
the alarm clock does what it wants to do but usually, rings.

Thursday!
and it's
no surprise to me
why should it be?

I wonder if they are still dreaming and who is stealing the scene in what should and could have been.

I've had my supper
jam and bread
and
now it's time to go
to bed,

seems to me
my dream could be
quite spectacular,

that's what I prayed for
anyway.

You never get used to those empty spaces,
the silenced voices,
but
you never forget their faces,
they are drawn into memory by
hundreds of laughter lines,


he thinks of other times
as he
looks at the empty spaces.

They,
endowed with the art of persuasion
lure you into the system

and everyone thinks that they're real
when they're locked into cyber
getting a vibe, a
feeling of turn on
their life being switched, gone
are the doubts and the
fear of rejection,

the system
must be so good.

Taking
alpha blockers
and beta blockers
enable us old rockers
to carry on.

I'm already on caffeine.

anyhow
I spent last night in
so I could come out fighting
because
I knew it would be Wednesday
today.

Continuity
yes
that's the key
radio 4 or
radio 3
never let you down
not like that
everlasting toffee
gone in five minutes
and remembered for
five more,

continuity
the key to the doors we open
and sometimes close behind us,

it's the going on that goes on
the getting up and doing
the courting after the wooing
and the young
those springs yet to be sprung,
the roundabout
the circles about which we turn
and in turns
it goes and comes around.

Some have more than enough
some do not have enough
some never have enough
but
there's enough about
so
what's it all about?

Tuesday took its time in coming,
on the plus side
had Tuesday been a red balloon
and I was in the USA
Tuesday wouldn't be here till next week.

bang bang
we shot it down
bang bang
it can't be found

sidetracked?
it's easy to be
when the days are stacked
against you.

Grammarly says,
remove the space
Grammarly
should get the **** outa my face
jeez it's not even four thirty yet.

I was watching out for
Valentines
having a sip of
Ballantines
but
can't see through the
'fog on the Tyne'
it must be these old
eyes of mine,
said someone I don't know.

What if it wasn't God
but was in fact
Gladys?

we'd have trouble saying
'our Father' then.

Those old patriarchs
put their quills down on
papyrus and wrote a script
which they acted out
to teach us
God was male and man was God,

could be Gladys though.

At midnight in the moonlight on the shore and waiting for the morning to rise from the sea, it's lonely and the waves that crash like crazy stockcars are noisy, I only want peace, here, miles from anywhere and anyone cacophony rules.

An anachronism?
I thought it was a spider.

I watch the light rise
shading my eyes
because it's bright,
the noise carries on
uncaring of me
and not lonely
among itself,

8:43 at the lifeguard station
and the lifeguard has gone
perhaps this was a railway station
in his previous life,
or could be
he's saving someone
but he can't save me,

the noise again distracts me
peace eludes me
the sea invites me
to wade in.

wake up
with a hangover,
hungover?
you'll get over it,

it's Monday, isn't it,
he said
unenthusiastically
and
that's the longest word
to write when it's barely
morning,
he said,
yawning.

soon be time to go,
some say,
I went years ago
but I know
that
I'm just maturing.

They talk about a labour strategy and
what does that mean to a layabout like me?

huh
more work
probably.

That five-year plan worked out well
how many years has it been now?

I'm getting along famously with the
other old fogies and
playing dominoes
but only god knows
why.

it's
Sunday
and I know that you know
but I'm on my last domino
so
just thought I'd mention it.

I don't think 'mama's taking us to the zoo tomorrow'
no,
that was years and years ago and Mam has been gone
these few years past,
but one cannot help memories from surfacing like
submarines from the depths.

When I finally go to seed
I shall grow wildlike in meadows
and you can pick all that you need
when I finally go to seed.

but that time is far distant
so don't get excited.

Remember how we used to sneak kisses,
ha
if we tried that today we'd get forty lashes

you can't fukin wake the fukin woke.

all the joys of being girls and boys
are gone,
the internet's on
the voices drone on
the pictures are dots in their eyes.

or is it change that has changed me,
am I not the same me or
am I a changed me?
nobody tells me
anything.

I was trying to catch her eye
when a bus happened along
so I caught that and
I'm happy I got home safely.

and now it's dark
I hear the ogres auguring
but cannot see them in the gloom,

in my room, a castle stands,
a monument to me and
I'm still thinking of catching her eye.

In reverie
she comes to me
and shakes me
awake.
but
I'm only sleeping
and
it's not terminal

her velocity
maybe

that bible in the bedside drawer
who put it in there and what is it for?

the knock on the door
room service?
Sunday service?
well
it won't be a silver service
with
tea on a silver salver
it'll be me reading Ruth
in the book of the truth
and that is
the Gideon trap.

Spring sprang
the doorbell rang
I expected to see
Mary Poppins
but of course
that would have been
spit spot and not
spring sprang.

easy mistake to make.

someone shuffle my brain cells
and get me back to the track

because
you're on my mind
your name
on my heart
underlined
because
I can't sleep when
I'm thinking of you..
..that's what you do.

there's a lot to be grateful for
and even if we're ungrateful
there's still a lot.

I have lots
of everything I am grateful for
and only a few things
of which I am not.

These things and those things
are my saviours and
they help me through those darker
times when rhymes
don't make the grade but her light
still shines.

Buy this and get that for free!
I see,
what if I only want that and I don't want this
is that still free?

No, it isn't because it never was
and most probably
never will be.

this is how stores hoodwink the gullible
and the world is full of the gullible
not to be confused with Gulliver
who wasn't gullible
he was only lost.

Friday crashed into last night
and I woke up to this,
the taste of her kiss still on my lips
my heart still doing backflips.

I scrambled slowly out of bed
( don't want to overdo the exercise )
and ran a bath ( it beat me )

but it's that day which is great and
I can't wait til work is done
Monday's far away and
the weekend was made for fun.

My body tells me it's Friday night
the calendar tells me no
what an absolute *******
there's one more day to go.

It took a long time to wake up,
to climb down from that deep sleep
and leave the dreams resting
while I got dressed in the dark,

a long time.
the echo bounces back to me
disembodied
but at least it's free for
a while.

My third eye needs a monocle
it can't see a blasted thing
it cannot even see the joy
that today might possibly bring.

The talking has gone out the window
and they're walking out of the door
we are in for more
strikes.

Meanwhile
human rights are being taken apart
by that shower at the heart of this
country,

we'll be transported or transplanted
can you not see
how slanted things have become?

Energising
then realising
this is not
Star Trek.

I sometimes wonder
how many moments
there are in a minute
but you have to be in it
to be sure.

Wishing as hard as you can with your eyes shut tight will not make a smidgen of difference because it'll still be Wednesday after tonight.

Now,
in Hungary, I would say *****
which apparently means cheese
oh
please yourself
but it's true.

anyway
here at the hacienda
it's the end of the day
I'm waiting for you to say
goodnight John boy.

She gave her age as somewhere in-between the opening chapter and page two hundred and fifteen
well,
the boys down at precinct thirty-nine read her the riot act line by line which took her age to another page.

Tuesday slipped in when I wasn't looking,
what a fcking liberty
and it looks like I slipped into self-censorship,
another fcking liberty,
it looks like
Tuesday's out to get me
I had better watch my step.

USB is not recognised!
I'm not surprised,
but the computer was
when I put it in.

I have no idea what USB
stands for
and that's just one of the
many things
I have no idea about

once again
someone at the back
shouts
Google it you dipstick
I've put him on
my to-do, list.

But not being recognisable
is in some cases acceptable
and sometimes it's
preferable
especially if
the 'old bill' want a
word with you.

Thinking pit stops
playing hopscotch
planning two steps ahead.

Time stops
the moment that I do,
it doesn't stop for you
only me

and when you're buried
in the cemetery
you can wear
a Timex or a Rolex
it won't matter.

I thought emollients were payment for work done, but it turns out that they're not, they are something you might put on a rash or a spot, I've still got some learning to do.

I thought I might just
but
then thought, better not.

We've all got that little switch
and sometimes it malfunctions.

so I didn't
though I might have,
I couldn't.


Jiminy shouts in my ear,
well done my dear.

I worry about him.

Close your eyes on a Friday night and..
..****... sudden;y it's Monday,

I think
someone's stealing weekends and hiding
them away,

it cannot be a Monday but I fear that it is true
and I'll have to get up and out of bed
because that's what people do
on Monday.

Hollywood
Cricklewood
Borehamwood
even
Colliers wood,
they're running out of places
to bury all the bodies.

it's
Sunday so I'll pray and hope
that Summer's on the way