will the prodigal ever come back to me?
do you think God wonders so or does his wonders which he performs quite wonderfully keep him to busy to wonder?

In a quandary where placebos grow wild
where there's no place to turn to except back into the child you once were
and you're popping them blues but you'll still have to choose what you want and if you do turn to, what then?

Without whom
will you pray at the temple of money or power?
and who'll sit in judgement to torment you?

No one's going anywhere no time never soon
so you might as well get used to watching four walls
in your room
or
you can google trip around the globe,

up to now
I've been to Curacao and blue bay beach,
to Bogota and Amritsar,
tomorrow
I'm heading off again,
anything
to get me out of this room and away from the rain.

An evening to do what seems so right
a wrench from the *****
who
thinks it's alright
to stagnate.
I wait for the morrow to come,
for the postman and some
statement
of intent, but
I am bent on the track and
there's no looking back,
I am set
for the fight.

He swam across an ocean to steal a concubine from a potentate,hauled himself ashore in some oil rich state.
Whitebait for sharks that roamed in the sand,fish for the cannery,what kind of a man was he?
His saving grace,her face which monitored each move he made until he reached the palace gates,
then flinging all aside he cried may God have mercy on this humble man who only tries the best he can and from the harem,a girl called Celsius ran into his arms which opened wide,time to hide ,time to run,
time to burn,the desert sun does not play games nor names the bones which bleach upon its sands.
Holding hands they stowed away on a short haul trawler out of the bay and here where fear was laid to rest
the best was yet to come.

Defects
I've got them
perfected
the lot of them,

'some men are born
to be great'
and some men wind up
in this state.

Embrace them all.

We only look forward looking back
and yet we're not on the right track
not looking.

I'm cooking chicken fricassee
because
for me
that's the only dish.

but occasionally
I wish
for Yorkshire pud
rubbing the lamps's
no good
so
I
live in hope

Listen to the chapters moan and
watch as drones drop bombs
on family homes,the
bible bones.

All is well in the land of Nod
those East of Eden don't give a sod anyway,
it's like 'play for today'
it'll be over soon.
The moon will rise,the skies will clear but
never fear
another chapter will soon begin.
But,
who will win this war,what war?
I never voted for a war.

In chapter four where Adam's just thrown away
the apple core and pretending that
a ******* in the garden is
not a sin,
Eve asks,
'what war,
what am I tending flowers for
will I provide the roses for the ones who die
anonymously?'

We,
the undersigned are all resigned to,
fighting 'til the fighting's through.
You
can add your name at the end of chapter two.
Until then we'll hear
the moaning,droning,bombs homing in,
the losers who win and the winners who lose,
while we sit and choose which
channel to watch,
which programme to see
while eating our cake and
drinking our tea.

Locked in the dock with the judge looking shocked as he read through the case
and he peered at the clock,
He was thinking of time
so he gave me some.
I jumped over the rail
the poor guard went pale
and I run away
not feeling like going to prison today.

The papers all called it the great dock escape
or that's what I read as I sat in the bar
with my very good mate.
Fred said I was daft
and should have laughed at the 'beak'
Who is up for indecent assault at the 'old Bailey'
next week.

A judge you can't trust with your life
or your wife and a con that
absconds from his trial
the papers like to pile it on
but tomorrow as we know the newspapers are gone
and we become old news.

The police take the view that although my crime was a crime.
It wasn't as bad as the judge's and now he's doing time
and I'm not doing crime any more
anyway crime doesn't pay or so I've been told
but it's not often you hold fifty grand in your hand
thus I stand
convicted.

If this be the will of the people and
the people be legion,
then the legion be Roman,
who stand in the squares
swearing
allegiance to
chickens and bears,
if this be the will of the people
the Empire is lost.

We are nowhere near forever and it took forever to realize it,
forever's just a planning dream, a mock-up on a backlit screen
but a storyteller can make it seem that forever's been and gone.

Never one for getting on
but he got on
the only way he knew
which was
strapped in tight to the
driving seat with his eyes
on the rear view

These lines are ley lines,
magnetic
like land mines.

To find my way I
must follow the ley line
finding the right time on
which I have no lien.

An ocean of webs,
what fun
the tide ebbs to
uncover the shore and
more
ley lines.

How fluid the Druid who
seeps out of time
like a mercury trail on
the magnetic
ley line.

All about the geometry,
getting tangled in
her sorcery when the
Angels
want you too.

Muse.

And I use Chanel to attract,
my lips are dry and cracked so
I ladle on some balm,
calm?
nope,
but
I live in hope as most of us do.

The low down on the cosine is a
sign for me to come up and see her
sometime and I've heard that one
before.

These are the searchlights.

Flares that bring night down
and candles to warm Saki.

Back at the Inn
Ingrid
deigns to let me enter and
pin my colours to her mast,
happiness.

That's all a man can ask
unless he's an absolute cad
and although I'm a bounder
I've
never been that bad.


At Andrews,
we are back to the base
counting to ten with
mud on my face,
flying to
Dallas
and all of us
laugh wildly at the child that's
inside of me, but I know he
left years ago and
is still on the
way.

The lights are switched on, a bit like me although it's been said, I am dull.

The jubilee line train is starting to fill and now it's full.

This is the early show for those in the know that the early bird catches the worm.

It's eyes down in the smart phone town where contact is just an adhesive.

A mustachioed man much older than I am
playing candy crush
slowly.

I've seen
those what sniffs
some with quiffs
and them what whiffs
of wintergreen.

I sit here taking it in
can't hear a pin drop.

Terminating at Stanmore?
well
I won't be going there.

Unlikely,
but mustachioed man
looks a bit like
Blakey!
on a bus man's
holiday?
on Tuesday?
unlikely.

Some guy just got on
he smells of
Old Spice,
I wanna say nice
but
I won't.

When you had that first inkling
saw the light twinkling in the eyes of
your beholder when he told ya what
he told ya and how old were ya
then?

How you built your fortifications
and how his frustrations built.

before we both knew
the years flew away
and here we are today
together.

..and then it was now
how
did the weekend go
so fast?

A block and tackle to
help me rise
an excavator to dig
the sleep from my eyes
and coffee to oil the
moving parts,

..and now it is then
time to go to work
again.

Did you want to balance on the edge of a freshly sharpened knife,
did you really want to spend your life afraid of being cut
did you put the cutting blocks away?
Good,
then it's chocks away and engines gun,let's fly and meet the morning where we'll win the sun and lose the night,
flying blind with eyes tight shut feels a bit like being cut,but no blood yet,
no need to get upset
we'll get there
somewhere where the daring and disarming go and where existence seems to ebb in constant flowing ever knowing waves,
and someone waves so far below where ants appear and everything is, although nothing seems clear.
As we stand there on the edge and look,
fear is written hurriedly in the pages of another book
and we have flown,taken years and grown beyond the boundaries of man,scanned by few and those who new it never recognised,
the eyes can see,the hands can touch, which doesn't mean so much when you don't know what you're leaning on or looking at.

The world was flat,but blown up like a balloon it became that which we know it, a ball, though you can't throw it.

Better to believe if you can that dancing on termite hills is all that is man,and all we will be are the ants that look up to see,
a man in his plane
doing the same thing over and over and over
again.

A streamer hangs down lifelessly,
the party is over for you
and for me
the ice cream has gone
the candies have too
all that is left
is
me holding you
and the party is over
we
had lots of fun
we danced in the moonbeams
and ran through the sun

we tasted so much
touched even more
it's time to go home now
time for
closing the door.

I will ride the elevator
later
when my feet touch solid ground,
I will travel to the outer stars to find that
man exists beyond the frozen fringe
or mists
of Jupiter and Mars,
Yes,
later will be fine.

Time to pack a book
and build a dream,
chapter twenty-two,
asleep beside a placid stream.

A canteen filled with yesterday,
jettisoned along the way
and a valise to release the stress.

Mother says,
do not be late but
I can't wait
to elevate
so
off I go.

Later,
never knows when it will come or if the sun will shine in some mean or meaner time, meanwhile with a smile that lights up steam,
I dream.

(20 minute poetry)

11am
tube is jacked
packed to the rafters
no sound of laughter

only the dismal wails as
we go down the rails
on the trail we have travelled
before.

I'm stood in the aisle
surrounded
by a perch full
of people
a pike load of tenseness
that waits to explode.

jeez
this road keeps on
getting  tougher
Why should I suffer it?
why not opt out of it?

But I am bound to it
a dog in the pound to it
gnawing away
as it too
gnaws at me

one day I'll be free of it
if only to sit and spit or
whittle some wood
into pegs.

Legs are giving me
gyp
tripped over the case on the floor

did I give that person what for

ha
she took not a blind bit of notice

and just flew into the seat
I was eying
she being firty years younger than I

I want to cry.

Is a vote no a no vote or a vote to remain,
I leave her with that note
hangin'

cross my fingers hope to fly
before my heart stops,
and I
wonder why some birds have
wings but prefer to walk,
nothing to say and yet you talk
must be
something in the water.

If I catch the dawn before it can break
would you take me to your heart or
sit there in the dark
complaining?

I need automatic tracking because
I'm cracking up and have the need to know
just where it is cracked people go,

well?
as John Wayne said,
'the hell you are'
in that drawl he had.

excuse that flashback
lost my track there,
where am I now?

You did that on porpoise
said Popeye to
Pluto,
it's Bluto not Pluto you Dumbo,
said Bluto.

when the cartoons come to life
it's time to get a life
or at least a stronger
coffee.

The man with the *** Aitch Dee
university educant,
not like me who was
dragged through the secondaries
and modern too,
not much education, but
what can one do?
when the riverbank calls you and the
corn starts to wave and the wind is the music
to which you can rave.

The man with the *** Aitch Dee
earns more than me,
but I have more memories,
like sailing off to the sea
like catching fish for my tea
like swimming naked and free,

is educant a word?
and that's the education of me.

I've got the beer in to see the night out before I put the lights out, I'll be half-cut, but in dreams, no one seems to notice.

Friday for lost souls and all places to...
the tannoy squawks,

someone talks to me but I'm talked out,
there are no words to come out
so I remain silent.

*** it
forgot to pick up the dry cleaning,
too much dreaming I suppose.

You're there
editing the highlights
of the lowlifes
on the pavements,
but what sidewalk are you on?

hey
I saw the princess with no knickers on
the harlot who just wanted me gone,
and you're still waiting for the marathon
it ended years ago.

Try again
why again?

do it and do it and
we can get through it
to try and break through,
the old habits make me
want you
even more

so
what's it for then?
to try again?
why
again?

The answer's always the same
try again, and
I feel **** Whittington's pain
in the trying
the doing
the toing and dying

why am I here?
what is it for?
old habits and want
and I want you more
then ever

it never rains
but that's a lie.

Sunshine's just a climate affair
one minute there and
the next
wonder where.

ah but we live in the Hubble
and telescope trouble
that's of our own making

I'm staking a claim on
Whittington's cat
let him feel the pain,
try again
turn again
burn at the stake
why again.

Should I dye my hair?
try a different colour?
get a fuller, but what
kind of figure would that be?

Stay the same
melt with the pain
try again
what's the name of
the Doctor that locked
ya in here?

think it's done for now and
so I take a bow
and leave.

She was colourful and as
cool as formica,
I liked her.

And I thought just if,
contact adhesive
would work that way,

I found out that day
it did not.

The plot thickens along
with the lip and then
eventually
I gave her the slip
and limped along home.

Bolan sings Dylan,
Dayan's on the Golan
the radio's howling
"Caroline"

Back in a time back to front
where the future we hunt
shoos us away.

McGuire's in the evening
bleeding,
the Magic Dragon's on the run
Summer in the City is like
Summer in the Sun
only colder.

what now?
Telegram Sam with electronic spam?

Still busy reading the instructions
destruction's a hard thing
to master.
but I'll get to the burn out
worn out
and turn up in top hat
and tails.

Them shut the shops
them shut down the cops
them shut the cinemas too,
it must be ****** Sunday
because that's what them ******* do.

Them put a hex on you having some ***
them lot's a miserable crew
If I had a vote
I'd put them in a boat
'cause
I am a ******* too.

She puts the jingle in my jangle
the sparks that shoot like laser
lights to make the dark nights
bright
as day.

When I woke up it was raining
Facebook told me so,
but the Sun came out when her
eyes opened.

If happiness be a state of mind
look inside yourself and you
will find
it.

Even when it's Monday and it's raining
there is Sunshine
you only have to look.

And if you're fourteen points off
the starboard bow
how you got there doesn't matter
what does
is what you do about it.

the ball is in your court.

I hear the ocean more and more and yet can't hear what you say,
the shingle song carries me on and the tide takes me away.

I expect it is age related
ebbing as I am
or it could be that I'm saturated
with the stress of being a man.

I see equations in the atmosphere
where clouds appear as numbers,
it's like a bingo game
that I won't win
until they call my name.

I can't ignore the sea
the shore is calling me
and I must go.

Even
God forsakes this dismal place
preferring instead to show his face  in the bistros, at the music halls or the cinema shows,
they have a name for it,
Candy floss coating on *******.

I mean,
I'd have figured it out long ago that his plan was to blow us away,
on these battlefields no angel shields us from starvation and death, but I was slow, saving my breath, wearing my heart on my sleeve.

I believe the experiment was doomed from the start,
give man a heart and the ******* will break it.
the bankers will take it,
collaterall,
offset against the main bet which is a debt for us all.

Stood against the pock marked wall, the rifles at attention,
good God look at them all, but of course he's at the cirque de soleil drinking champagne and how does he feel?
******' fabulous.

The poets like friends that I knew
were just passing through,
and the night tasted stranger
as the
words that flicked fingers like flames
on my cheeks disappeared on the page.

The danger was in the remaining
in draining the last drop, but I found
I could not stop
and the cup of bitterness tasted sweet.

My secrets are trapped in this pen
which I use now and then
as and when
and at those times that I don't
the secrets won't be
told.

To draw one's last breath
one must be able to draw
right?
that lets me out.

I should pray but
not today,
it's too busy on the
hotline to heaven,
I can wait and god knows
I'm used.
to that

I took a photo
so I'd know
that Tinkerbell
was really there
but
now
although I've looked
both high and low
I can't find that photo
anywhere.

The bells rang for me
the choir sang to me
and the
angels wanted to hang me
from the ceiling.

I had a feeling that Sunday was here
there was
a smell of salvation as opposed to the bacon
not forgetting the incense of long
forgotten innocence that hung in the air.

Hymns are out,
something about
non-binary,
which worries me
but not unduly so.

The Sun, once gone, is resurrected
as the day goes on its way
to be perfected,

I take a coffee break
waking up is hard work.

I should have kept a diary to remind me
of the events which occurred,
but it never occurred to me,
how absurd are we that we cannot
remember when we need to forget
yet forget what we need to remember?

if I had put it in writing
those things
that we did every night in
our
younger days,
I'd remember exactly what it was
that we did.

it's just about the rain
and
not about you or I,
let's elect to go around
the World once again.

We're being weighed off
with a wacko
known as BoJo
who is not the full
shilling
but
plenty of pennies
are willing to
follow
him.

Politics, not my domain,
even I don't play that kind
of game, I
leave it to the criminally
insane,
no!
politics, not my domain.

I feel it now as I felt it then
when I knelt before the sepulchre
the sculptured face
carved from cold stone
so alone.

So long is such a long time
and a long time takes
so long.


I am no rock,
no island
here.
there is
only the fear of what
is to come.

Saturday in Saskatoon.
minus twenty-nine
underneath a bright blue moon
the 'Paris of the prairies'
wearies.