Why Sunday?
no sun
just day,
call it day
pick another prefix,
call it dullday or
pullyourselftogetherday
anything but
Sunday
no sun
just day.

The Sun
Sol
following Winter

chasing me into the shadows,
In those
who knows
what lurks?

I am pedestrian
Lancastrian,
but the good Lord
he made me
a Geordie where they
still talk of that
'Jarrow Walk'
as if it was
yesterday.

They march on to haunt me
in what was and what
could be
history repeats
but we knew that

and many times before by some
lake or on the shore
when I've looked out and tried to
make sense of it
I am hit by the oddities,
life's ideosyncrasies

I feel that
my insecurities
secure me.

The cat has a limp and a white patch on her eye
one ear's pointing down and one up,she gets by on a tin
of sardines every day,she catches the mice and expects little pay,but
a stroke and a kiss is something I wouldn't miss and she likes me to say,'kitty looks lovely'
then she'll lay on the rug and tug at my toes as if she already knows that it's time for my walk
if only,if only my kitty could talk,she could tell me such tales of mangy moggies,the males of the species,
but she can't,never will and until I speak Marmalese she'll just sit there and purr and warm up my knees.

I am the jumbling
the mumbling man
escaping gas of thoughts that pass into the night.
I burn the midnight sun that oils the gatling gun that chats incessantly and I believe that this is me.
I am conquistador
Quixote wanting more
I am the situation needing close examination somewhat of an exclamation mark
I am the dark.

To start again we take a pen
create a bill of rights
because,
sermons will not feed you
in the long term this is what we need to do,
storm the walls of warehouses and and pull them down
burn the cities,burn the towns
astound the populace,face the thieves who turn a trick
and kick them out.

Tarmac melting underfoot
Sehr gut
jawohl
mein herr

but Germany's not here
and I definitely
am not there

I'm just approaching blighty
tapping lightly on the door
there's no one in the house it seems
what did I come here for?

I could have gone to Mozambique
the place in Dylan's song
but I'm still tapping on the door
what's taking them so long?

Zanzibar is not that far
I could be there instead
or I could get in my car
and drive across
the oceans in my head.


I'm here
no beer
not *** of tea for me
I think the island's all closed down
and they've sailed over the sea.

She was a ten
but that was way back when
before decimal coins
and long before the seams and several joins started to unpick
and now she looks sick.

Sick of the days
ticked off with those nights when she sits alone
frightened
so frightened if the phone starts to ring
or the doorbell chimes.

Not like those other times when she stood out in a crowd
her beauty (albeit plastic) would shout it out loud
'look at me
can you see you how good I feel',and still I would kneel at her feet
to me she's the sweet little lady
who one night in a Javanese bar said 'maybe' to me.

I see her now like never before
like today was the door that we came through
and if I knew then
even when she was a ten
that I'd still love her
a score of years on
when she is ill
I would still have gone it all the way
would still be here in love with her today
and that's the reason I believe
she'll get better when we leave
to count to ten
again.

There are galaxies in verses
a universe in words
a conversation in each abbreviation,
with comets of comma's and a
quagmire of quasars
laser lights to brighten faces that
lighten up my day.
So many permutations
within
the alphabet of
constellations
it's hard to know where to begin upon
this spinning wheel.

It's astounding,amazing
like cows we are grazing while the
world falls apart,
I hear them cry
from Kenya to Mumbai
and all points on the dial...meanwhile
we stuff ourselves with food off the shelf and we
don't give a ****.
Twenty first century man can do no wrong just
as long as he lives in the West and the rest?
we try not to think about them
because we are the twenty first century men.

We are selfish,
going back to when we were just shellfish,before
we marched onto the land,before we colonised and
then realised
how big and how grand that we were,but
we'll get there in the end
until then we'll pretend that it's
all tickety boo
but who
are we
trying to kid?

(20 minute poetry)

Hunched up and hemmed in
hacked off,
on the flamin' tube and
ageing rapidly.

This is not for me
I need open space and
a place to spread my wings.

Feeling faint
this ain't no picnic
unless
It's one that makes you
sick

smelling ***** clothes
wet stinking hair
I want to be anywhere
other than here

when a twenty minute trip
gives me the pip

I need to slip away.

Today is not good,
thinking the tube would be empty at nine as it should
be
fooled me.

I'm
looking to find escape velocity
hah
I can't even find a seat.

Stale bread
Yale bread
pouring its mould into my head
penicillin in my eyes
I am cured
the whole world dies.

Yesterday sits heavy on my mind
the chiming of the shocking blondes wrap
tightly,
bonds which make the chains and lies
I am cured
the whole world dies.

This universal remedy
this magic
of calamity
the panacea of which I did not see
cures me as
the whole world dies.

Like a spot  that I keep picking or
a wound that I keep licking
I've got something kicking
'round in here,
something's buzzing in my brain
like flies, it's driving me insane,
picking, kicking, sticking to the lining,
I'm refining it,
digging through the flies and ****,
refining it.
Filing it and in a bit it will be clear,
something's
kicking 'round in here.

Shouted out in little bursts
the truth will wound
and the truth hurts
but spread out thinly
grimly
slimly grasping hold
the truth is truth that must be told.

Truthtellers on the ball
never seen down in Whitehall
where slimy grips with microchips
and microdot would stop the truth before the rot of truth
infected all electorate
at any rate
I think it's true
or just another lie to lie in bed with other untruths that were said
and was the truth put in a book I read or was that just another lie in bed?

I can't tell what's true or not the microdot has chipped my brain
I'll never be the same again.
At Mansion House where I've never been
you should have seen me there
another lie ,oh I can't bear the shame
tap me on the shoulder,send me off to jail
disregard the pleas for bail
and let me fail inside the cell
a battery man
electric hell
don't tell me lies
don't give me grief
I'm safe within my own belief
that everything is right and just
and only those who think they must tell lies
will die inside the living
of the truthful eyes that eye the man who would tell lies.

The essence of it seems to be
the truth will always set you free
from any cell,electric hell
I'll give Whitehall
a call
and let them know.

A church door's just another war to wage

Prolong the propaganda
volunteer
go to Rwanda
and see the truth that's written on the trees
see hard bitten soldiers cry
catch a famine in somewhere like Biafra
and watch as children die.

It's a lie to believe
and declarations make
me seethe

Your time is much too valuable to give it up in prayer
see it for yourself
if god was ever good
he isn't anymore
In fact he isn't there

I think he swanned off to the Caribbean with a companion
who we'll call Peter for convenience
and I'm not thinking of suggesting anything
that's
If there's anything or nothing to think about.

My prophets catch ferrets
wear flat caps
set rat traps,

There's
not much to pick and choose of them
but they're real men and not paintings in chapels
or pictures in galleries

I don't begrudge Luther his truth,
you see you have to see the other point of view
but it doesn't follow that you'll change yours.

Did it,rue it,had it,blew it,
don't do dope.
Home alone,****** at home.home and ******,unhomed alone,
hypodermically syringed,unhinged and whinging all the time,no hope.
Don't do dope.
It's so uncool,so old school and only fools act like a fool,
you think that you're okay and you can cope,but you can't.so
don't do dope.
I did and found it very hard to stop,found you can't get fixed in a one stop shop but
I found hope,
found I didn't need that dope
I'm still a dope though.

When even the ironing is ironed out flat and the world is still turning,(no doubt about that)
I can sit here and wander through roads so familiar and realise it's so similar to how it used to be.
Still raining and damp which gives me a cramp or a touch of arthritis,but I'm not complaining,it's something to do with the year I was born in.
There's a cat watching me from halfway up the tree,it seems he's been there a long time,sometimes his black eyes meet mine,sometimes I turn away,if he's there every day then so am I.
And we both go along as indeed time goes by,
both watching
both waiting
the cat up the tree
and me.

If I was me which I'm sure I'm not
because somebody else got the body I've not got.
in any case
or in another case which is not the same
I am game for the game that is played
and I should really have stayed in the home
where the medics took care and never left me alone.

But I didn't
I wouldn't or else I couldn't have followed.

Manny Fandango
he's a poet you know
a philosopher too because that's what some poets do
so spoil yourself
read some of his stuff
Lord knows he's got enough of it
he'll tell you it's sh*t
but then
poets will say just anything.

You talk of love as a commodity
something to buy or to sell
but not something for free.
I don't think that love's for me.

Love should be light
a feather pillow fight.
A freedom to be
what you want
what you see
and love should be free.

The contracts we make and the promises we break
fade away.
When love is the light that lights up our day
and fires up our night
then what is the price
what should we pay?

Love is not tied to the small print
nor does it reside in unspecified charges.
Love is open to all
it's the call of the wild when the child in you cries
and love only dies when the price is too high.
Here am I
all alone
not a love to call my own but it's out there
just waiting
and willing to share
what I have to give
wonder when love will live in my heart
wonder when I will start to feel feelings apart from my own.
All alone
I am lost
paid the price and it cost
me the Moon.
Soon
I'll be gone
will love linger on and then haunt me
will each moment of rest
come back and taunt me
last eternally.
Will I eventually find what was under my nose?
Who knows the answer?
but I'll take a chance and believe that I will
Until the day breaks and the night takes me away
Love is for free
but I always
pay in the
end.

She takes me and shakes me,in contours she shapes me,subjugates me,sublimely educates me,
and I am free from the bonds that have shackled my mind,
in her warm embrace,
I come face to face
with myself.

In the exploded plan of man
I see no
substance,
a bit
like
skeleton ****
a bit
of
bare bones.

Clone me now 'Scottie'
do a 'Star Trek or 'Mickey Mouse' or
even a 'Shrek' on me.
Warp me to a Factor of three,
infirmity and infinitely beyond anything where anyone can see except for 'Buzz' and me.

In this mapped out, strapped in and crapped out state
I see the skeletons waiting at the pearly gate,
at one time it was 'gates',
but they sold one off for scrap which
is another load of crap,
a bit like skeleton ****,
no substance to it.

Where were you when the operation began
were you watching me
through the blackened glass
did you see me pass out
did you watch the gas meter
did you count every litre
they ran into my chest?

Did they test you as well,
well did they?
Did you tell them
to ******* and go away,
did they
do that
did they?

And why stay anyway
what's in it for you
what can I do
for you?

And I'm clear
did you fear
the disease?

Did you think if I loved you
I'd bring you
to your
knees?

Please
leave
and relieve me
from guilt
Tilt
game over.

The beach curves and the sea, a scimitar in the sun cleaves through the shingle a sandy path along the shore.

I am awestruck by the goddess of good luck who favoured my happening into this day full of wonder and wandering.

A springy thingy though I be
a thing in spring I'd like to be
this thought I think springs out of me
as I spring into Spring.

The cardboard that became my mattress
my last but one address.
The names with which I have been tagged,the once fine clothes all turned to rags,the sagging cheeks,the days that wandered lonely into weeks and years became my duvet,there but for the grace of god knows who, is who I was and am.

Any woman,man should understand that landing on one's feet is not magic ,just a neat trick and how quick it is to fall,how quickly life can stall and leave you stranded.

Even handedness is not a trait that you will find, struggling on these unlined pages,raging against the might have been,if only you had seen it coming and running through scenarios where only poverty and sadness goes,there is always the hiding in the dark,on the benches in the park you're not alone,so many fallen through the cracks of broken homes and getting shot into slugs of alcohol or drugs like demerol.

The crowding out of being in and being in is what you need,the only hope that feeds the hope eternal is for the cycle to spin and turn,for the wishing star to burn across the moonlit sky and crying to your god above what little love there's left is,
well you know,
the last of any place you go when you're put on show for all to see, and all to see and comment on your misery.
This life blows hot and cold,you're burning rubber then you're old and nothing ever turns to gold unless you really want it too.
I leave you on this satellite to orbit through another night and hope that one day I just might
begin to understand.

It be like,
what song are you
love,
****** doo,
play,
Farmville too,
gamble,
the whole day through.

What the fluck is wrong with you?

Ifya want a friend that goes on to the end
you've got a fiend in
Facebook.

Then we learn to crawl through the ramble and sprawl, if we were tadpoles perhaps we might wriggle a bit,
but we're not
We scrabble and screech in order to reach whatever is it that we need and we feed at the fast foods, watching the naked and **** being destroyed and it's us that we see.
If we walk we don't talk with our heads in a phone watching memes on the screen and the bigger the better, easy to letter your life if you like, A equals 5 equals a bee in the hive, but we're making no honey just plenty of green crispy banknotes and it's funny because you can't eat money, but it keeps us alive, us being the bee in the hive.

And through all of this, the tramping, campaigning and cutting, adjusting, abutting it's easy to see why we crawl,
why we sprawl on the sofa and think so far so good.
I wonder if I'd feel as I would if I could grasp every corner of life, fold it into a square, put it somewhere and forget it.

If you wanna deal out life then deal me in,
I've got a longing to begin something that never ends and I wanna hand in that.
Let us pass no compliments we both know how to play
If you wanna deal out life,then deal me in today.

The cards fall as they will,upside down,down up until they spill the spots and then,and only then,
will I see what's dealt to me and understand that I would be.
More to come said the angel with the gun who tried to rob the diamonds from the sky, so unlikely this and this is why I walked on by ,my hands full with the pull of fortune and a hand of hearts that came to soon.

If you want a hand within the game then you must leave your name at home,the one you never knew you'd never known and come on in,
let's begin by making rules,no rules are great but we must wait and see what the dealer says the rules will be,
pick a card up from the pack and you are stuck,no going back to what you didn't know you knew,
the Queen of clubs begins to cackle,what a pickle,what a stew and who the devil's deuce are you?
pay no heed.
no Queen's for you
What you need's a royal flush to wash away, you wanna play again? no pain involved.

And I waited by the astrodome,the metronome moved blindly,not unkindly I could see,
a new game being played securely set in hands of stone another woe begotten home I never knew and just because I never knew, I know now that it's all untrue,the deck was rigged,we didn't get a fair shake,they took from us because they could take and we didn't know and if we did,we put a lid down on the fact and opened up another pack of playing cards,
you wanna deal in this 'ere life? then get a knife,be ready too, to find out things you never knew.

The bitter pills and the ruins of cotton mills where dreams where played out on looms and woven in the semi gloom of a half lit room by children so old,who were told to do as was told or don't do at all.

Some escaped to the drudgery of the great hall where Lord Diddlywhat would squat and pass praises like water to some lacklustre daughter of a man in the town,
half a crown a month and eighteen hours a day,threepence in the offertory on a Sunday to pray for deliverance.
Though none would come for the sun didn't shine on me and mine,only on them,
lardy arsed gentlemen,willowy ladies with squawking fat babies and nannies,grannies in every nook and cranny who fed on the fat of the land,
took the bread from our hands
took the love out of life and the life of our loves,
iron fists in silken gloves.

Now finished,
the thoughts of those times diminish with age but the rage still holds true against the blue stockinged brigade
who would raid on us,put the shade on us,despise and degrade us,use and then beat us,contused and confused we would still go and labour,
wrap ourselves in the looms and in half lit bits of the day,we thought it was the only way,
'til the war came
changed the rules of the game
it was never the same after that little spat
and we spat at the gentry
who stayed behind to do sentry duty as their duty demanded.
We branded them
the landed men
wouldn't work for them no more.
Let them go hang and sing for their supper
we'll scupper them yet,
but I forget
the fat don't get wet
they float.

(20 minute poetry)

Wish I was there in the clear where the light casts no shadow behind me,
wish it was so that if I could go I would.

But nothing good comes of wishing,
ask genie he's been listening to wishes for years .

I'll remain in this limbo wondering if time dies then where does it go?
When I know the answer I think that I'll know it all.

On the seventh colour run when the sun throws a rainbow glow over the wet pasture be sure to take a fishing net,
get an early start.

I see them
ten times ten of them
MARCHING up to York
and
If the glory of Rome could talk
what would it say?
' lions to the left
Christians to the right
someone play the fiddle
there's a barbecue tonight?'

These random scatterings are only the
Chatter of a loose tongue
Wrapping rhythms in bubbled gum
Shadows dreaming in the noon and
Soon the sun will go
The budget of my day will be spent and my descent into the rambling of night will begin.

We've got our backs against the wall as someone knocks it down, and we are being bulldozered right out of London Town.
Keep your freedom,information act
and act as if you give a ****
but too a man
you aren't any men if you would kick a man when all that man is trying to do,is muddle through and pull his weight
what a god ****** awful state and if it is then where the hell is he?
Supping tea with Cameron no doubt and wondering what the fuss is all about.

He'll get no prayers from me,
not while drinking Indian tea from China cups with saucers full of biscuit crumbs,while bums are begging on the street and Mother's can't make two ends meet.
what a god ****** awful state it beats me why we soldier on
we're as good as dead when all hope's gone
we ought to take a tip from those who've seen it all before and smash down the doors of greed and hyperbole,set the dogs to war and then we'll all be free.

Anarchy
the only way
break the day apart
reassemble what we've got and let's get shot of the lazy lot who stifle our ambitions,
Take positions
let them have it,
**** will rise, and look into their fatman eyes they know,it's long past time for them to go.
Just blow them all away
sweep them into yesterday and start afresh,anew
the only thing that we can do is fight,
set light to parliament and the mandarins,make effigies and stick them full of poison pins
and tear them limb from lying limb,

Time to begin?
You tell me.
Is it time yet to be free?

The reasons for seasons we thought to be true,
the summer so bright and so blue
and winter with splintering cold and the ice,
Spring bringing freshness and it's nice that the ice melts away in the warmth of an early spring day.
Thoughts turn to Autumn,I've seen them and bought them,brought them home and then sought somewhere to hide them,can't bide them,
but that too has a place in the race for renewal and it's cruel for me to leave it 'til last.

For me,
Winter will always be best
the most testing of times,
when men become men and build snowmen,with buttons for eyes and a carrotty nose
and if the wind blows which is so often the case
there's a space by the fireside,where cold toes wrinkle and crinkle and hide by the doggie that lays on the floor.

Season's
I adore all of them,the blending and bending,never ending of life mixed with death but it's the winter that breathes the
breath into me.

Thanks Graham Robinson for the idea.

I can still see Stan pulling his hair and
off there to the right, Oliver with his,
I can never remember if it was a bowler or a pork pie hat, but I kinda like that, like the haziness of a memory that comforts me, it's a
part of the comedy of growing up.

Once, like I was two or maybe three an eternity ago, on a trike, pedals and a bell, pedalling like hell was on nmy trail,
but
the word constituent, constituant, ringing in my head, must have repeated and said that word for hours and hours.

Mum Said, i had ABC, well that's waht it sounded like to me,

acronyms, CIA, RAC,CBI,

I went to the citizens advice bureau
the CAB, WHICH
if I really had OCD, would be the ABC, BUT YOU SEE the alphabet is what we get in tinswith tomata sauce and Mum OF course had the last
word.
They always do when you're two or maybe three.

The streets will belong to the beggars and buskers
who'll paint the ivory towers red and
take out the old tuskers who sit and scribe laws in
dusty old books..
..here I shall pause,because I'm not sure of what laws.

But these fossils who will us away,
the same who turn night into a much longer day
and don't pay us no wage
are quite sage about this,
they knew that the 'kiss off' would kiss them away and
have made laws to outlaw the coming of that day.

The buskers and beggars can sit playing chequers and
make Kings on the boards
and on the boards of multinationals where they can
rationalise it all,
they'll make more ivory towers to refill more empty spaces
and more laws to put beggars and buskers
in their places.

But we are used to this krap and so
we sing or we busk for a penny
in our flat cap
and the streets remain the same,
it's just the name that
changes.

All we were is what we wore
now and then
way back when

twenty score of memories..... come flooding in,
shiny pin tacked in your hair,
somewhere there.



looking back and in again
silver sun and
shining rain.....
....on the rec' with
Shirley Stiles, a
million smiles..............,

never knew a kiss could be, a
part of it..
the memory,
tasting sherbet on her lips
nature trips..and we fell free
such a time and what we wore
more and more and memory.

dreams may come and dreams may go but
memory runs wild and...see..

..we..

..all we were and what we wore
things we did and what we saw..

you can't buy that no matter how you try,
blowing soda pops underneath
the sky,
bubbles everywhere
somewhere there
now and then.

(20 minute poetry)

There was Judas who knew it and went forward to do it,
betrayal is a quick zip in the fastenings of night.

Sight unseen, but we took it in good faith and the legend lives on.

John took to his toes and ended up in Panama, as far as I know he is doing quite well.

Pete looks like hell,
Thomas has his doubts and thinks he's malingering.

Mary,
******* the rosary in the garden at Gethsemane and wondering if her man will come home.

Paul's at the wall with Michael and wailing, screams tailing off with the arrival of dawn.
It all makes me wonder if life is so tragic
why are we even born?

..and then she kisses,
sets me free
unburdens
takes the weight of me,
whispers in my ear,
'there,there dear,
don't get upset,
we've only just started
and not there yet,
be patient,
and then she kisses.

In the midnight cafe where the smoke dances with steam
where I once had a dream of being the creme dela creme
when the day was still young and unbleached.
I sit sipping tea bought for me by the waitress
largesse it would seem but hardly the dream I once had.

It dawns on me at ten past three that I should be asleep and this thought that breaks into the dreams that wake me,makes me want to close my eyes,close out accumulated where's and why's,and I don't want the thoughts that dawn to ever have been born,
but
I know soon after three,thinking I'm awake I'll see,me staring at the hour in reverse,through the window of my mirror,it's perverse,I only want to be asleep at ten past three,when darkness flits across my drooping head,I see the batwinged angels with hardened hearts who with withered tongues once said,

'He's not dead,he's just pretending nor does he even think he's ending,just pretending,that's who he is and wants to be,an anonymity'

Batwinged angels have no heart,they like to stop you never start to help in any way,never have the day,just the night when I would like to tuck up tight and sleep,they keep me wide awake and take the dreams I'm in,pin them onto cartwheel dart boards,lords of mayhem that they be,
I really want to sleep at ten past three.
I really do.

Under the arches
down on their luck
tucked up in bubble wrap,
troubling no one
minding their own as
the cold day goes on,
are the outcast,
cast out by a time but
not the hands of the clock.

And when the fingers are too numb to
pick at the light that glistens like
dew drops on the windows of night, there's
a light frosting of snow and momentum is set,
moving close to each other to get that
bonus of body heat, the weather beats their faces,
like a whip it leaves traces, lines of its passing
etched and each line surpasses the last,
where they lay wrapped  in the day of the outcast.

And if Summer should come, some never see when
the chains they are bound in are unshackled but
she, Jenny Wren, who used to fly with the best,
unrecognisable now, dressed like the rest in
bubble wrap vests,
will see,
the freedom of the sky from
beneath the blue bridge,
will reach up her fingers to pry
yesterday from her eyes.

Under the arches,  there is a silence,
a reluctance to cry, the
outcasts know but
nobody asks why.

She slipped up behind him and
planted a kiss on his cheek.
Didn't seek my approval
removal,
almost as if I did not exist.
I wish it was me that she
kissed
wish that she'd creep up on me
wish I could see
what I was
doing
wrong.

Yes.
I admit I was trying to impress..
..when I said to the girl,
"whatya wearing under your dress"
The boys from the hood thought that was good
But it wasn't so cool
It showed me up for a fool
The tool of the time hanging out on the frontline with the guys going nowhere,uncaring,not sharing and the day washing away slipping like soap from my hands.
The sands trickled down and made me look at lifes timer.
I started to frown.

Then I got off my rear put myself into gear and got back into the drag..lit a *** and started humming to the Strumming banjo playing solo on the radio.

And there..outside Mothercare I saw her again.
She was stood in the rain..looking round,looking fat and I like a pantherised cat leapt to her side,offered her a ride...She replied,

"Oh it's you..what do you want and how do you do"

We talked small talk...gave the car a miss and walked long talk.
I apologised,never realised the good and the bad.
I said,
"who is the Dad"
There was a silence to the footsteps where I'd overstepped a boundary but she understood me and said so quietly, "she didn't know"
We walked real slow.

The tears and our laughter caught up with us some time after and now we are three.
I can see this is the way time always meant it to be.
Me.
Always me but now it's one..two..three.
Happily.
Ever after.

Head buzzing,hand shaking,skin flaking,brain taking,body swimming,belly swelling and this constant drinking's telling tales on me,it's time I packed it in and drank some tea instead,but maybe just another ***** before I go to bed.tomorrow, so they say is another weekday,weakday,bleakday,blink and take a careful look day and not a day to mess about with me day,I want a strifeless, lifemore,more than this an open lifedoor,it's what I'm aiming for,
just got to sober up.

Tongues that collide, inside lips open wide,
you know what I mean.
When the whole world is seen through her eyes,the highs and the lows and the kissing goodbyes,still seen through her eyes which also open wide,
I died,you mesmerised me,I tried and you stood by me.
We kiss and you know what I mean,
You,
who has seen me in the raw
You,
who has laid down the law
and I want,
You,
even more.
Tongues that collide and eyes open wide and lips that divide, part for me
and she
knows what I mean.

Locked up in the stocks
and they're all laughing their socks off at me.
Soon I will be free
unlike
those other poor souls who are swinging in the morning breeze
up on the freshly painted gallows
made especially so more could see
the face of death,
what they could be.
Come and watch the matinee
where three more souls will swing today.

A party atmosphere
a dead man here or there
it's like a summer fayre with jugglers and a clown
and 'Hey presto' magic
one more soul drops down to meet his fate.

Lately I have noticed that the police are getting tougher
and the rough and ready treatment
meted out to those who fall foul
of the local law enforcement
has become a talking point in boardrooms
by the Admiralty Lords
who were often heard to cry when in their younger day
'hang them high,hang them high
make those malefactors pay.
It's a sin
you try to live and all these people want to give you is some grief
you can't get by on the sly
and if you try to you will die as so many have found out
to their cost
I do not doubt that ii could happen here to me
I could be up there swinging free.

So today I'm in the stocks
you can laugh your socks off
laugh your heads off if you please
but I'm not swinging in the breeze
just yet.

But me no buts it's blood and guts, there's
a war going on,it's
cuts,cuts,cuts.

The Conservative army,all
****** barmy
and we're being shot down
in flames.

She,

skipped over the paved blocks
and came to a stop.

Are we playing tag today
or are you going fishing
again?

I wanted to say
tag
but I was ten
so I said
fishing.

Oh.

but you can help me to dig up
some worms
for bait.

Great..she said.

When it started to rain
and the
fish weren't biting
I bit my lip
and said,
wished I'd played tag.

She smiled and said,

I know.

It's not for the want of wanting that I wish I wanted you,
but you make it easier to make my mask and disappear into the blue.

I could wonder all the wondering what this wonderful life has been and I'd never know the half of all those things I used to dream, but you thought of me in sepia, someone old that fades too soon while I thought of you as crescent shaped like the beginnings of the moon.

We have to live to understand yet can't stand ignorance and yet again we wash out pain, pretend like Gene to sing and dance when it's pouring down with rain.


We're all the films that we used up and time just clicked away and now the shutter shuts with a final clang and
the footman comes in slowly saying,
'was that you that
rang'? but
I never called for the thin man in the black car to come by and it's not for the lack of living that I found my time to die.

'Don't waste a minute', said the miser, 'in yer bin', the cockney cried and for the want of wish of wanting I curled up and then I died.

You can try to justify your policies
that is not what bothers me,
what bothers and is bothering me is
the fact you can decide on a policy
that affects our liberty,
is this democracy?

I cannot decide nor decipher whether
it's hot air or just bluster, but
buster
you'd better be aware
we all live here and I don't care if
Sunil speaks Tamil or gobbledygook.

I suspect this is not about the language
and more to do with the way people look.

j