Inspector Hornleigh
came to tea
with
Alastair Sim in tow
but
in Brighthaven you know
there's nothing else to do
and nowhere else to go.

Ebenezer is alive and kicking
stamping his brand of misery on my
Christmas tree,
picking the bones of last years lights
ticking the box for boxing day.

I wish the ghost of what is to be and what is to come would pick up a gun and blow him away,but
perhaps the ghost of the present will let that be,because he is the ghost of insanity.
I saw him once played by Lon Chaney or it may have been Charles Hawtrey putting a present under another tree
or maybe it was in the Wizard of Oz
I can't remember because
I'm old now.

Oh Dickens, how you shot me down with your insights into London town
there's a miracle to come on 34th street,BBC One, or so I'm told,personally I don't hold out much hope
so I sit by the radio braiding rope and drinking some dope kind of *****.

I suppose it's in the City and the people one knows that the miracles occur,
I sometimes wish I was there
an Ebenezer sticking it to the masses,
the thought passes
time ticks by.

The night flopped over the chimney tops
and dripped from the guttering as
the day broke through in spots
I could hear the house martins sing.

The radio sizzled, the
bacon crackled,
on the range was a pan
full of porridge from the
morning before.

Boots by the door which were itching to go
everything's slow when you want to go fast but
at last we were out on the last day of the world,(a
game that we played where zombies were real and
they were coming for us to make of us a meal)

Each day is a  bonus where the onus to be, is
the King of all castles, the Queen of all seas and
to seize with both hands the hands of all friends.
The day ends with a call from,
Mother, you know,
everything goes fast when it ought to go slow.

Beside the sea we saw
what people wore on
holiday,
colours as bright as
the sunlight  
that bobbed gently
over the bay.

He played with his spud gun,
she had scabby knees
but potatoes didn't grow on trees
and these times were very hard
so he used the rolled up acorn leaves
which fell in his back yard.

Spud guns were fun and
she was not but he was only ten
and when in five years time he thought
I wish my dad had never bought
a spud gun for his son
she had gone away.

The independent think tank needs refilling,
five thoughts for a penny or sixty for a shilling
and
some of you won't have a bleedin' clue
what a shilling was.

oh,
a shilling was a fortune in your hand
it weighed half a ton but boy, did it
feel grand.

A present for him
a round tin
with fifty cigarettes in,

Christmas long ago
before smoking was bad for you
and gin was in the beginning, but
not in the end.

When I was young
on the run with the boys having fun with the girls
and nothing was crazy or mad
but that was then, and now
the world has changed and how
I don't relate to it any more.
We as kids stole a bit got bashed and hit if caught
and it taught us the values we lived by
but
look at it out there if you dare.
People don't care any more
there's no sense of decency a breakdown
of society
it's all ****** Greek to me
why don't the policemen see what's going on?
I know the job's hard but at old Scotland Yard
they seemed to manage alright.
It's a fight and I'm fed up
just wish they would cut out
and leave this old trout
on his own.

This was an error 101
it wasn't there, the room had gone,
and me and John or John and me decided on room 103.
Or well's as well and gone that he's not here,we said over a glass of beer and how we laughed, we had 103 and 101 had gone.
But somewhere,where,out there we know,it waits and waits one day we'll go to 101,me and John or John and me
and then we'll see what scares us so.

Sears and Roebuck
dreams 
for less than
a sawbuck
pictured on every page.

Wait fer the stage honey
before you parts with your
money 
honey,

Then we sailed down 
the 'ssippi 
to Orleans 
met a Southern belle
name of Dolores
played poker 
drank mash 
'til we ran out of cash
and took Shanks's pony
back home.

The mortgage fell due 
on the ranch house and
spread,
the cattle was out on the range 
with old Red,
most of my kinfolk was a prayin 
in town
thinking that Jesus would look kindly 
down on them 
misguided men for the most part 
hearts in the right place,
but iffen your face
don't happen to fit
Ya gets your 
*** out of here or be quick on the draw card and quit.

it's life, but
hard as ****
made easier no doubt
by
Sears and Roebuck.

We need a bit of magicry to cut
through all the tragedy,
a wizards wand to cast a spell and
a potion that would make us well.

The devil sits behinds the eyes,
manipulates the tongue that lies.

The brush does not tar all the same,
though some would rush to place
the blame,upon
the innocent by any name.

I have if wished, the right to pray,
democracy gives me the right to say,
with free will
God gives me this day and God by
whatever name he's known
does not condone
killing.

We take them for bandits and
not
Comancheros,
but who knows the
truth of them,
who's there when night falls
to pick up the pieces?

Hand out and hang out with
the drop outs and
layabouts
and tell me what's wrong
with the picture you're in.

I've been there in the round square
when the world looks lopsided
and topsy turvy becomes the
new inn,
where I've dropped in for a
quick one and stayed there 'til
the bell rung
and crawled through the streets to
get home.

And home is where a part of me
sees the other side which
is a blasphemy
and God help the traders
who are struggling to live.

If I give it's for love and not
for some great reward from
a God up above,
but
I suspect
that they may be the same.

Up early with the spyglass
on the hill to
see the ships pass.
The sun beams on me
I sparkle
like the blue sea.

I love it here on the hill
where everything
looks clear and yet
still
think
there's something missing.

Surprised that you've still got nerves that some people get on?

Offended is so easy and you pretend to be to please me because you know I love a fight.
When you're locked down and in and they won't let you play out
and the time's getting on and you're getting old, no money for the meter and the water is so cold,

remember
one day
it'll be over
one day
it'll be done.

Jonah
sliced through the waves
alas,
no mermaids
just the belly of a whale for him.

Times being grim
I think we're all a bit
of him,
sometimes.

I could have been a Maoist,
a Taoist, a cavalier, a buccaneer,
an egotist, a demagogue an atheist
or a communist.
I opted to be a ventriloquist
a chance or choice to have
more than one voice.

The world is at your fingertips
and you're just having
a scratch.

Looking back on easy is not so hard when things get tough,

that shuffle thing I do when largactil's running through me and
I'm not so sure I am me is okay,

The cotton wool that fills my brain becomes the wadding to ease my pain and whatever pill comes next is not that bad.

Side effects affect all sides unless you're playing solo and you're thinking what's this all about when nothing is about you.

Battery driven is okay too
unless you feel run down and
find the battery is in fact, you.

(20 minute poetry)

Fortune
plays a strange tune
on a strangers bed
in a strangers room.


I bleed a dime every
cent she takes
and
she takes me every time.

At the crossing point
where all life intersects
and lines of reference
blur
she is there
awaiting
my return.

Disenfranchisement and fear,
but
it's a happy new year until you wake
on the first with a thirst you can't
slake and a banging in your head
which could be the old year that is
dead, but won't die.

Should not have gone boozin'
you should have stayed in
and counted
what blessings you had,
but you did and got drunk
fell into the trap
of the rose-tinted glasses that
obscure all the crap.

There used to be fairies at the bottom of the garden until they sold off the plot to allow for the by-pass, alas fairies no more,
they flew off to Zanzibar or maybe to Ecuador, there's no more magic left in the ***, the warring political parties have taken the lot.

I worked new years eve and can hardly believe
that I'm bright-eyed and bushy-tailed almost as if
I was on the last ship that sailed from the last year
that failed all the tests.

If this was a film we'd re-shoot it
if it was a computer we'd reboot it,
a point of order and we'd moot it
but it's not and we have to
get on with it,

there are no refunds
actually, there are no funds at all,
and for that
look to those in and about Whitehall,
yeah
that lot who swig Moet and scoff
potted caviar at the Freeloaders arms
also known as the
Strangers Bar
and that lot are definitely strange.

We try to spin things out
but things have already been spun,
we compete in this three-legged race
and the ****** thing has already been won.

I'd go fishing if she'd let me off the lead
take a book to read and while I go to seed
think of better days.

Sent out
lent out
bent out of shape
once in the trap and
there'll be no escape.

Pared to the bone
parted from family
from friends
from the home
all alone
in the trap
life
is
crap
for the few who
don't get what to do.

Run.

There is a key to open up and look inside of me
and see the river flowing
the mountain growing
the seeds I'm sowing,
unlocked I'll be
a symphony you hear just use the key,step inside be near me let's be free, together we can sing in harmony,
two voices singing from the same song sheet, you just can't beat it,so use the key to open up and then we'll both be free,
our ship that sails upon the sea,the mountain growing within you and me and all you've got to do
is use the key.

When the universe is disconnected
who are you going to call,

ITV, the BBC?
don't say Ghostbusters
they're all toast buster.

God's on freephone
someone's on the iPhone
I'm on my phone
with no signal to be found.

hearing that song,
'..going underground..'
thinking
it's a good idea.

You can all taste the waste,
but you keep on wasting
because you're hooked on
the tasting,

****** addicts everywhere
and I should know.

Now,
if I really knew the answer why,
I'd patent it,
appear in Fortune 500
buy a Lear jet and
******* out of here.

Really?
no not really,
but I'm sure that
she would steal me
away.

I like the concept of,
'accept the things and then rearrange'
it makes change more bearable.

The lies and spin
begin,
the no-win
and
dead is dead by any name,

who shot down the plane?

How easy to pick a slick,
oily and brown
and as I fall down the face that I see
is me looking at me
falling up.

And so what side am I on?
the slippery ***** of hope
against hope,
I hope so.

But the faces pass,
like
ships in the night,
no recognition signals,
no semaphore, one on
the way up and one
heading to the floor.

When I pick a slick
I'm slick,
I look for the one with
the rainbows on
and though I still fall up,
fall down,
the colours I see
remind me
that all is not what
it could be,
it could be
oily brown.

Some are still washed up
some have dried out,
some are still on the happy juice
Some have sadly died out

I place no blame
no one to shame
it is as it has always been.

It could be better,
of this I am sure,
we could educate the rich
to help out the poor

don't let them **** you
with food banks
or food stamps
which are
aimed at
keeping you down.

Ring a ring a roses
******* up your noses
atishoo
atishoo
the septum breaks down.

dedicated to all those hard working city boys.

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.

Two diamonds watch from diamond tents the diamonds on a diamond fence
sunlight plays some tricks on me when diamonds in your eyes I see.

Jewels,
rubies?, but she's Sapphire blue
pearls?, but she's a diamond too

the music box with ballerina
shakes my world for I have seen her
in my waking dream.

Hi tech at breakneck, but
we all sweat the small stuff.

I've met enough in my time to fill up a book and on each page a rhyme.

But at the last of us
we'll all be back to
the abacus.

Who needs computers that shoot us so full of **** and bits that can byte us and who's always right?
us?

Thing is,
the screen sits like Jesus,
on the table it reads us,
promoting agendas and that's
what the end is.

Formula one
Algorithmic and intense it
kicks all the sense from us
and ladles in tables and ****
sites and my nights are far
from dull.

I understand the pull of it
Google and broadband sit within
spitting distance of God and it's odd
don't you think that each time you blink a light goes off down the Amazon.

( that takes a bit of imagination, but Firefox being in on the creation makes it sound good)

Jerusalem.

Bring me my beads and frames made from wire
bring me connections for the pyre
'cause in the end. all it will be
is the abacus and me.

She short-circuited me
quite casually,

I
though she'd blown
all my fuses
by
bruising my ego,
how was I know
that this was only the
beginning
and
lights out
hadn't even been
mentioned.

She rocks in combination lock
Her mind knocked out of gear
And nothing ever touches her
Because no one gets that near.

Her thoughts are in there,somewhere deep within the sleeping of her fortress keep,and only she, has the coded key.

I let the ancients decide for it's them who ride roughly on the cobbled streets where my life is at bay.
As they fly through the night with the reins of my day held tight in their hands,they grandstand to me
as if I want to see what is slipping away.
Let them have today for tomorrow is mine and time in small doses is all I can take,I shall wager a stake on the pinwheel of fortune that soon they'll be gone,washed up as sand on some far distant beach,within reach of the sea but far removed from me,
I let the ancients decide,they reside in us all and the call of the wild will always remain on the lips of this child,
so let them ride rough,I am strong and am tough,I can roll with the punches and knocks,watching clocks as they tick and knowing tomorrow will lick me
into shape.

Impossibility?
I don't think so,
I can slow you down
to the nth degree
take you speeding through
the universe,
stop a taxi in the park.

I can tiptoe on a snowflake,
I can take you down and
let you see heartbreak.
Impossibility?
I don't think so,
let's go together
you and I.

The slow undress
the slight caress
the way that I
mess with my girl,
she
understands me and
believes I can be
better.

Ideally
she'd steal me
away,

weather permitting
I'd stage a sit-in
her heart.

just romanticising.

Monday's okay in a mundane kind of way,
it's just a cross we all have to bear,
some bear it gladly,the crazy and sadly I have to say,
that I'm one of them,
one of the
'I just love Monday men' and why 'sadly?' I'm happily madly in love with a Monday,just one way to show my affection for this wonderful creation, Sunday's salvation,perfection in twenty four hours and
in twenty four hours it's gone
I can taste on the tip of my tongue the last of the day,nothing can match its sweet flavour,I savour it well,the rest of the week is just one living hell.
I wait until Sunday,excited that Monday is on the horizon and then I wake from the nightmare,it's Saturday morning the weekend is just opening its big mouth and yawning and Monday is not even a thought.

Travelling in,
this city life's wearing thin while the fat cats are just getting fatter,
it never matters to me that the city don't see the time that it takes me to come or to go.

This city makes me slow and there are things that move past me which I don't want to know and if I did would it rid me of avarice and greed, would it be a panacea, could it make me feel freer in body or mind?

I am inside a prism and the city is my prison with flashing lights, blinding nights and I'm tired of these sights I have seen.

I'm going home now in the somehow and sometime in the future I might look back with some kindness on the flash of lights and the blindness, but
not tonight.