These words written,
have bitten,
and leaving the scars of ***** ink,an untied as yet link
make me think
of
tomorrow, and when will it come?
will the Sun ever rise?
is the promise that's shown in your eyes,more lies
more bites
more lonely writes?

I'm flying my kite in the breeze and thoughts like these I don't need,so I'll write them away,like an act 1 in a play where's there's so much more to say and I,
being the audience will stay 'til the end
until the curtain comes down.

A king and his throne,nowhere to call home and this sceptre I hold is a cold, cold pen,
tomorrow will come
but when?

I love you in the morning light when the sun is in your hair
and I love you in the evening when the night is somewhere way out there,beyond the scope and did I not hope to find this?
in the melting furnace of your kiss,the shiver of your touch and I love you oh so very,
such is the muchness of my day that I can watch the light play on your skin,
If being in a heaven sent is where I went and where I want to be
then this life that you have given
is the only life for me.

(20 minute poetry)

On the ride
underneath the underground
to or into a wonderland

'move down inside the cars'

cattle trucks without the bars
a wonder under ground indeed

I need a break

an arm will do
a leg or two
I
I
I neatly forgot the plot it almost had me in a spin
but jammed inside this travelling tomb there's hardly any room to swing a cat

HaHa

I remembered that was what my father used to say on a Saturday back in the day at the football match.

But this is no fun

No sun to see
no friendly faces
******* where there should be open spaces,

seats,
a sea
disharmony
blank looks
no books
only mobiles
trials and tribulation

dirt poor ventilation

Methinks this tube train stinks.

Shakespeare, had he not been dead would have said?

my kingdom for a horse, but of course he did say that,

I wonder if he ever swung a cat.

Gotta go
Loads to see
Tottenham court road
is calling me.

moving down inside the car.

Neurons knit
I wake
a bit
sluggishly

slothlike to the kitchen
eyes twitching
kettle whistling.
too noisy,
he
backtracks to the bedroom.

Eventually,
brain In gear
dressed
ready to go out and
here
he hesitates

thinks

shall I
make another coffee?

Keeping quiet in this blanket of loop holes while groups of snoopers mill round and try to fathom me out,
I've scooped the jackpot in here where I've got my solitude and sanity,please leave me be,let me alone because I have the home I desire,
I require nothing from you and you need nothing from me,but you're determined to uncover and see for yourself what it is,that makes me tick,you make me want to pick up my bed and do the biblical walk,
I am silent not sick,you cut me to the quick with your questions so blunt,it feels like I'm being hunted,pursued,cant lose that feeling that somehow you're stealing a part of me,
I want to be,
alone in my loophole, nursing my lost soul finding my own way,and in my own way I'm happy,I jangle along and even though I can't sing I know the words to the song,
I have a freedom of sorts and my dreams teleport me from those who would try to see and uncover,
unlock the real me.
let me be.

When you drink your Veuve Clicqout and eat your honey roasted ham.remember for a moment,
Barry Trent.
who sets his table in a tent on Hackney marsh,
he bends over,under harsh light,most nights
eating bread and jam.

Ham would be a luxury he don't see too much of those,
wearing clothes a size too small or sometimes just to big to fit,
but you don't really give a monkey's for the flunkies who live hand to mouth and living South as rich folk do
I bet you think your **** don't stink,
think on
one day we'll all be gone
and equalised.
In someone else's eyes you'll be the Barry Trent,bent and ghostly,
mostly.

Swings and snakes
it only takes one rung to fall,did someone ring the bell for hell,is it supper time?
A half filled bottle of Geneva gin
say,
Buddy can you spare a lime.

Oh Good
it's Monday
it should still
be Sunday
that's what I prayed for.

I do not want more than my fair share
and I'd like to share my fair share with her

but the demons employ me for the night to enjoy me
it is no wonder to me that the devil feels free
after all, he's the one with the keys to the door,
I never prayed for that.

I have to go but before I do
you should know,
it was great,
it was the moment that fate will recognise as the time that it opened my eyes before it was late enough not to know that stuff.
And now I know.

Like the time I was fast but was really so slow that time all but stood still,
and the more that it stood still the greater the hill that I needed to climb, got bigger and bigger.
I could hear the clock snigger as time slowed to look,abandoned I shook with an internal pain,trying to gain what was lost,trying to catch up the life that was racing away.

Someone screamed,
why bother,just stay in the rut,that was just me wanting to say an 'ah but'
but that didn't stop me from this life completely
it spurred me on.
I want to say before I'm gone
it was great and it's never to late for a leopard to alter his spots or to thank those lucky stars that he is no longer a part of the 'think I have not's'
Fate dealt me the hand that I play
each day a new deal
each day I can feel
lucky.

The wages of sin,
though they pay pretty well
are what locks us in
and makes this life a hell.

The vicar was looking at me,but
she couldn't know I was thinking of taking her out on the town,
I was drinking her in.

Ah
the wages of sin,
I shall pick them up Friday
after I've had my wicked way
with her.

Talk,talk 'til you're blue in the face,you're talking yourself out of the human race,it's all blab,blah and babble de blah,I wish you'd stay silent you make me go argh.
You talk through your nose 'cause your tongue's all talked out and when your nose gets blocked up you talk off the top of your spout,you make me want to shout,'shut the hell up and go far away',you just talk and you talk and you'll talk off the end of this day and when you fall,
I'm sure there's even more you will think of to say.
You give me a headache an earache, I can't take any more so please talk yourself right out of the door.
Have a walk
do not talk
please go back home
leave me with some silence
please leave me alone.

I'm back with the train gang,
sing
back with the train gang
Oh yeah.

It's not rocket science
although
Stephenson might disagree
It's just me on the tube line
wasting some more time
back with the train gang.

The guv'nor messaged me
wrote
' get into work early '
back with the train gang.


I know it's a state of mind,
but I have looked and am
unable to find
motivation
left at the station,
back with the train gang.

This is the rush
the shove and the push
and no use me grumbling
the tube keeps on rumbling
back with the train gang.

The next stop is Bank
( mind the gap)
never noticed a please!
St Paul's and Chancery lane
back with train gang
again
back with the train gang.

Maxed out,taxed out,put upon,not asked out
lonely man with tambourine
was seen dancing topside.Tower bridge
and have you ever been so high that you could almost kiss the sky,but far too shy you shy away and dance until the crowds shout stop,
and then you drop
a stone
you're going home
back to the deep where you can sleep
without the noise from girls or boys that ring and sing,but in your ears one thing,and one thing water filling up the spaces that you ought to fill with something more,more like this
the kiss that one would plant upon the frozen lips of a sky that dies when you do,
do you
want that
on your conscience?
all nonsense of course, another horse a different colour
why bother
it's
Monday
anyway.

Tonight
we'll skip on through the sky beyond the first and second star
and on to the very farthest star
where the forefathers of our fathers are.

Here they sit in contemplation watching burning suns expire and die
and I shall join these gentlemen to
discuss the statement of my affairs.

One ending ends and beginnings tend to start that way and one day is just as good  as any other to smother thoughts of potency
all this and more I see
shown to me by these folks of my own ancestry.

'Freedom' is not being free,
when you're free to chain yourself to ideas of self administered inadequacy
and more to be a slave which you again could  save yourself, but only when you take the blinkers from your eyes.

Beyond the stars where planets rise and fall and rise to call me
where the saplings of young dreams grow wild
you will find the inner child of whom you have searched for
and something more,
the very core of who you are
is there
beyond the farthest star.

The rain drops blot me up,
like a man of tissue
I break into folds to
shred upon the street.

Slicked with the grease and the oils of the day
and the wind pays no heed to me,
stabbing me,
micro knife cuts on the cardboard
life that I lead.

I should be in a 'glossy',
not fussy which one,
entombed in a magazine
for someone to dream on.

Down along the broadway
the pipes play a tune,
some band from Scotland,
the raindrops still blot
me up.

It seems I want to write at night
To spread my words like Brie on toast until..
..the daylight wakes to me
With that strangeness of reality.
And once again I never slept
I could not keep or never kept
My eyes tight closed.
Now I tire and doze all day..
..again to write the night away.
What devils that do have their say
To twist and turn my life this way.

I implore and beg the pen
Please release your hold and then.
I can sleep.
But its silence tells me more
Than words upon a toilet door.
War then?
When pen?

What's that you say?

wedding day,
who's getting wed?

She said,
Wednesday
but I'm so used to not listening

must do better.

I went out there and met you where our Sun don't shine,
what a waste of bleedin' time
all I found was cold dead ground and
the broken down statue of liberty looking at me
quizzically.
(Planet of the apes)

A pre-requisite for keeping fit
is to go down to the Gymnasium
and do a bit of
exercise.

Now,
I'd be telling lies if I said,
'I go there every day'
It's the place I try to keep away
from.
The 'bomb' it may be
but not for me.

I shall strangle in my lassitude
Brood on what might have been
for I have seen those muscle bound
who think they've found the key
Gymnasiums are not for me.

I see a cream cake
take a slice or two.
Cream cakes make me do that,
can't see myself flat on my back
pumping iron
trying on another weight to build up the little strength I've got.

No.
the Gym is not for me
you may peddle on the bike or exercise until you sweat
I'll just get another cake
that's the only weight I want to lift.
Fit's a gift I had and lost
And anyway I can't afford the cost
of registration

..and it hurts
when the blades flash
and blood spurts.
See the face
watch the glass
then smash the mirror
watch as cracking up you'll pass
into the seething red hot boiling mass of indecisions.

Incising with precision and then it's too late
any hate you ever had against yourself
your mum or dad is dripping then it's gone.

Who said life goes on?
it does maybe
you cannot,did not,would not see
the sympathy that wrote itself upon the stone
when laid at rest
three miles from home
in St. Marys churchyard and you thought life was so hard
it's harder now
but not for you.you flew away
leaving family to pray and cry.

...and the awfulness of wondering why or what they said
that brought you to this
dead end
full stop
final resting place.

But you know different,don't you dear?
there's no resting place for you in here.
Like there,
you're just a square peg in a rounded hole
another lost and weary soul.

..and you're not going anyway to anywhere
no floating through the air like you read in some ghostly story book
no angels come to tuck you in
you're on your own again
but this times it's for keeps.

(20 minute poetry)


You were never really a touchy freely kindhearted diet lite sort of person were you?

A man who digested fat like it was fashion and that was the limit, the outer ridge was the fridge which you raided at midnight, getting tight on you, down out of sight and you
believed it was alright, but being alone is a minus it's time the two of us got together.

We have so much to learn,
if I burn with desire I want it to be you stoking the fire with a smile on your face.

A place and a time?
how about
over at mine at around about
Six.

Hey,
It's midnight over on the other side,
the beggar slides down the underground like a bloodhound in search of its prey
whoever said begging doesn't pay is in denial.

I keep my head down, eyes on the screen, but the beggar man has seen this type of behaviour before.
At the last stop which is my stop and the beggar stops his accusing,
I'm using true lies to avoid looking at his eyes,
But he knows
Beggars
Always
Do.

Down in the Glen at the end of the day
when the night's on the move
are the pixies at play.
I have seen them
dancing when
they thought nobody saw
I have seen them
and the clothes that they wore
were so bright
against the onset of night and the Queen
I have seen her sweet and demure
I have seen her
of that I am sure.

When the grass lays still aside the base of the hill
and the chill in the air
has a certain cool charm
take my arm.
Let us not tarry
let us not slide
for we must away to hide
stay silent and bide with me
we will assuredly see
the procession of lights.

And the Pixies set seal
between the true and unreal
and appeared as the Sun hid away
I watched as they ate
until the evening was late and the magic was high.
When you've got to ask why
because you don't really know
if what you see isn't part of some elaborate show
and you think it's a hoax
the joke's on you.
Pixies are true to belief
and believe it or not
Pixies have got their own world that very few see.

I have seen them
when down in the glen
when the day's slipped away
and often I pray that I'll see them again.
But silently see, that the Pixies will be
timid and shy.
I don't know how
don't know why
but this understanding that stands under his sky
is my joy.

Where the sky is as wide as the smile on your face..and white clouds interlace with the heat from the sun.
Where the fun in the day is found in the words that you say..is where you'll find me.
Just to be..
..near..
..to you.
Involved..
..in..
..The things that you do.

And when the darkness comes which it always must.
Where love and lust are deaf and blind.
I shall find..
..that inner strength..
..go to any length
To see you shine..
..Love..
..Be mine

At the start of it..part of it..for a bit is tough so take the rough with the smooth..
Suffer bruised Egos along with bruised shins..Life's little banana skins have a way of making you slip.
If you just rip into her day..there's no way she'll say thanks.
But if you like driving those sorts of tanks then join the armed forces..
It's horses for courses..
Ships for the seas
Vicars and teas..
..She's..........your desire..so go out and buy her a gift..give her a lift..wait at the factory gate at the end of her shift.
Do everything well
Don't sell yourself short
If you're caught unawares..the only way out is to face down hostile stares.

Just look to her smiles and your troubles are already miles away.
Call her to hear her say
"So glad you are mine"
Fine.
Look in the mirror and see..
..yourself shine.
Love..
..Be mine.

I watch the hawk like a hawk
and the hawk watches me.
I wish,
I could fly free
then perhaps I would see
what the hawk's looking at
when the hawk's watching me.

We are the pit men,the pony men,the downtrodden,unshod men,and it's us against them,
and them men are the fat men,the fast gabbers,the land grabbers,the takers,the fakers, the usurers and money lenders,
**** them men,
I'm tendering my resignation and going off to look for something more,
a new celebration of a life within this whirlwind of a railway station.
Platform four,
train leaves at five
if I'm still alive
I'll be on it.

So,
I put my life out on the line and
time after time
people say,'for what?'and
I say,'why not? it's who I am and what I've got
and if you don't like it don't read
my life will still bleed
and I,
(though it's hard to admit)
still need
validation'

Random impressions,
suggestions of faces
places I've been to,
haze me, amaze me,
it's like getting lost once again in
the mazes I've been through.

New images fly and in the
blink of an..forgetting things like
where was I?
what was I thinking?.

Random and fleeting and
soon I'll be meeting old friends
it always depends though on
which way through the maze
that I go.

Perfumes that float in
that heavenly..forgetting again
as more impressions assail me,
the memory fails me but
they never do.

She says, she can't sleep
I say keep your eyes shut
but, she opens them and that is when
I hold her closer,
breathing deeply murmuring sleepily
I love you.

Think you've been linkedIn
that you're as safe
because you're connected?
yeah
well,
take a long look at Brinks Mat,
money for old rope
robbed by them old blokes you
passed on the way here
and you still think you're linkedin?
stick a pin in any map and that'll show you
that there's a pinhole in the map, you see it and
believe it because the pin was in your hand and
Linkedin?
being Linkedin is a pinhole in the sand forever
caving in
forever falling through the castles that you build,
filled with this desire to set those sights of yours just a little higher
you'll give in to every whim,
make believe you are the pin, but baby,
you are not Linkedin
it's just a ******* scam.

Men with pins have a multitude of sins and lies disguised as truths and sold in fortune telling booths by Gypsies all related to the seventh son of **** knows who is the biggest pin of all.

Don't you fall into the trap of thinking you're linkedin because that's just crap and you're bigger than that, almost as big as Brinks Mat thought they were, but we don't go near there,

anymore.

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.

It was sad music,
sigh and cry some more music
we listened anyway
because the day was drab.

Night floated in like a dose of Persil
that washed us whiter than white
and
in spite of the day we became
happy and gay
I think the Cognac had something to
do with that.

A refrain
and the same thing again
reliving the past.

The mission bell was rung and the villagers were running,someone said,there's tall ships coming from the Islands 'cross the seas.
The padre bade us all to pray in the hope that God would save the day and they would pass us by,but the sky sat silent overhead as men and women were shot dead by pirates seeking to get hold of jewels and silver,food and gold.
They shot the padre as he knelt,he felt it as the touch of God and went to heaven with a smile upon his face and in this place of slaughter,sons and daughters,manacled to feed the trade in human flesh,fresh and young,green shoots taken from the sun to spend their days as slaves of men.

These pirate men with guns,
with ships that run before the storming ocean waves,have no saving grace and no place in maritime or ancient lore,spore of demons are these ****** who sail the human cargo, traders,raiders laying off the shore line,picking off the bloodline,destroying what is yours and mine,it's time we blew the lot to kingdom come,see how they run then.

The day will come when bigger ships with bigger men and bigger guns will run faster than the pirate brigantines.

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.

Lady won't you stay here tonight
and let me hold you
Baby won't you tell me alright
and let me hold you,
I can think of nothing so good, as you smiling at me and then saying that,'you'd think about it'
baby won't you stay here tonight,you might like me,
Oh lady won't you stay here with me and hold me tightly,
tonight could be the starting of the you and me.
tonight might see
two hearts enjoying one another,
oh please, baby won't you say that you'll stay
lady won't you say that you will,
until the morning reminds us of the night time that we left behind us.

Say you do and I will say it too to you
oh say you will, and stay with me until the daylight sets us free, and let me see the sunrise on the hillside casting shadows over you and me.
Oh baby won't you stay here tonight.

Here we're on the verge of something absolutely marvellous
me and you
the two of us
can you feel the moment of the minutes ticking by?
you can cry out in amazement
doesn't make it less amazing
just a little bit of more of what it is that we're here for
and I like cake
I want to take a slice,so nice
and put it slowly in my mouth
want to feel it pass my lips
and I slip into another mode
the mother lode of all there is to all we'll be
can you see me smile?
I walked the extra mile and just to taste your cake
I want to watch you bake each and every day
please say,
you'll let me
get me just another slice
you will?
oh you're so very nice.
Shall I come for tea?
I can be so civilised
as I look at cake within your eyes
ha
just call and let me know
before I go
have you baked a cake today
did you make it specially
is it just for me?

Those that smoke dope,
shove coke up their nose,
the crack heads
the smack heads,
the dreams of a horse, Ketamin of course
the acid droppers,
speed freaks,
amphetamine fuelled droolers,
the tin foil sniffers,
black bombers and eggs and all of it begs for attention,
not to mention,
poppers and
the coppers, who'll pick you,
the dogs that will sniff you out of the crowd,
the loud ones.the proud ones,
the dealers and stealers,
they'll nick you and stick you
behind cast iron bars.

No more twenty pound deals
no more chillin' in wheels
no more girls on your arm,just
the sensuous balm of
**** pots and stale air
and care worn faces.

It's
no place to be and
jail's not for me.

This lunatic nation bent
on self medication is slowly
shifting its feet,
When the comatose know
there's no where else they can go
they wake.

When the last of the daylight kisses the feet of the moon and night becomes the dawn of the rising,surprised I awake on the lakeside of sorrow where tomorrow sheds tears for the time allows nothing to stand,
I obey laws of physics though consult with the mystics and the doyens of the beer hall only watch as I call to my maker, thief taker,partaker in ******,to **** dead the silence that roars in my ears.

At the bottom of this glass sits the truth that I search for,but as I reach the finale I find only the floor,it's like the dawn of the rising and no less surprising to me.

If I talk with the shadows that shiver in the doorway,they only say to me, 'spare some change for a cup of tea?'
questions that bother me bitterly, I so agree with the Government policy to ignore everything that doesn't look right to me,
and night even more looks surprisingly, like something I wore once on Wednesday.

They say that this madness creeps up on you and the way it attacks is like it's fukin you,as I've never looked back at my retinue I can't tell if the last statement is true or not,
but you've got what I consider to be the utter truth, as I fly downwards and climb to the slate grey roof where the owls there will greet me with beaks set to eat me,
I wake and sleeps beats me again.

When I stand on the edge of the cliff looking out on the sea
doubt disappears,
everything clears and the future extends far beyond the tips of my fingers which always point the way to home,
and home is the resting place.
The cliff is just a launching pad,a space for me, to stand, reflect,inspect the ravage done by one more day of being on the edge,always looking out,looking in,more damaging,a massaging would not go amiss,instead I blow a kiss to the onshore breeze.
Times like these times two and still I wonder what or who stands on the other side,
I wonder too, who stands and wonders,who else but could it be,is there only this and me,
strange philosophy
I stand looking out to sea
on the cliff
cold and stiff
wondering if
the sun will ever shine.

We are the waxworks that melt in the sun
the colours that run through the day
we are what's left when the days work is done,
the last colour of crayons that melt in the sun.

In the explosion of thought and ideas
the second sight of the seers goes blind,
the lion seeks comfort in the woolly coat of the sheep
and in the fallout shelters where the cast offs weep
the followers sleep.

I weep not for the waxworks nor for the sun
but for the colours,
for the colours will run and they'll run
anyway when the day's work is done,
we are the waxworks that melt in the sun.

In drips and drops until it all stops, when
the heat fades in the memories that shade you
from the harsher realities of this life's
inequalities and you'll think that you've won
until you take off the goggles and see
we are the waxworks that melt in the sun.

A lighthouse stands
solidified on
the shifting sands.
Alone,
at home with wind and waves and braves the storming of its battlements by sending messages of hope that scope across the hidden rocks
to light the way of merchantmen
and show the paths of safety to
the shipping lanes where they'll be
safe.

Out on a liferaft looking for low flying aircraft and the
sea shells that sound like the sea.
I see nothing but water and sailors that caught a rough wave
and paving the way for a saviour to appear is the
rear admiral asleep and the course that we keep is
quite random it seems, gleaned from the stars and
the dockside bars, distilled by the gums that supped many a *** and
smoked a canteen of navy cut cigarettes, where will it end?

The admiral wakes, takes a reading, 'land sakes', from the parrot that sits by his side and we glide on through the sea, what will be, what will be
but what is
is what worries me.

On the cockleshell shore where we floundered and wore out the heels of our boots, we set down some roots built huts from bamboo to save us from sunstroke and the Lloyds bell was rung for lost sailors and *** and the admiral asleep in the rear.

An Amazon,she
towers over me.
I want to be
an Amazon
too.

On my pony and trap with a pipe in my mouth and wearing a cap
I am gaining on evolution
a solution I see
revolutionary
in the eye of a storm laden cloud I will be
restructured
cut down to base and relaced with the strings of a heavenly bow
and you
will
narrowly miss the arrows of kisses I'll fire because evolution's not perfect and things need direction a bit more perfection and two minutes on the slow cook
according to the book
written by monks with tonsures and placed into the trunk of an elephant
elegant really
totally unexpected and something else not quite perfected but we try as best as we can.
I feel that Lear lingers near me and peeps over my shoulder
whispering words in my ear
that's Lear
and he's getting bolder with tales of mad cats and of men smoking pipes sat in pony and traps
he's quite mad you know
but friends are hard to find and you've got to take them as they come
mad or not
Lear is fun.
So off I go with my bow in my hand and another in my hair just to complete the ensemble
and they all clap me on except Lear 'cause he's gone
fishing for raindrops.

Let me guess my way into the everness of a today or fade
come kiss me in the shade
come raid my heart,
take me to pieces and rebuild me part by part, because apart from you I number only one of two,an incomplete,
come kiss me quick and delete my memory
make of me an anonymity
or kiss me oh so passionately that I would be unbound
and set free.

Growing tulips for her lips
to kiss
in this I see a master plan
tulips become the man and the
man the bloom.

Cultivation
the seat of responsibility
the destination

I
have an assignation there
in the rare atmosphere of
education

tulips are my currency

learning for life
and life can be

sweet.

It's 3 pm she sees me when
she can

She calls it
her
Mistress plan

I have plans for later.

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.

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.

It's Shangri La on mescalin,
got no drugs
you don't get in
but paradise is just as nice drug free
at least you'll see
the fuller colours of your life.
believe me
it is true.
I once flew the underground with sounds of eagles in my hair but I realise now, I wasn't really there at all
but trapped behind the sliding walls and door of wanting just a little more than life could give.

I stand now,in some cool reception,waiting for that flash of inspiration,perception alters as we age,
two more words wrote on my page,
Getting wiser.

The best vintage
red wine,
her lips
drinking in mine.

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.