I am full of suggestions
but she makes little
mention of them.

she owns her agenda
I bend down before her
ha
I am full of suggestions
she makes little mention of
those,

I pick up a pen again
or just
go to sleep again
like
Rip Van Winkle.

Twinkle, twinkle,
one each eye
because
I don't want to overdo
or undercook that book
that's in the offing.

I shall sleep on it and
whatever it may be
it'll come to me,
it
usually does.

We are not in the Euro
and yet
we are in the Euro
so
if we win it
are we in it
or not?

What about life?
Well
I can tell you
I'm not doing it again.

Perhaps though
we will return in
that reincarnation thing
and if we do
what happens to the Fat lady,
will she ever get to sing?

I hear y'all calling
shouting and bawling
it sounds like the cavalry
enjoying some revelry
but I'm in the Nations talking with Cochise
smoking the pipe
and taking some peace.

The buffalo don't know me
so it's easy to shoot them.
The army gave me the rifle and the
Cathedral went elsewhere.

I swear ya still call me even when
I am fallen,
washed with the gold dust in a thousand
pan handles.

I cain't hear ya
come closer
let me see the signature on your six-gun.
This river runs dry when it hits
on the border.

When I pass into the wall of the glass..
..everything ripples.
A stippling effect which is no doubt due
To the movement of the mirror as it lets me on through.

Alice did it a long time ago and she showed me that
..if I tried really hard..
..I could fold myself flat and no one would see..
..Except the reflection of me
As I went into the looking glass.

She was right as ever.
Alice was seldom wrong but she didn't belong where this world resides
Locked behind images that hide behind faces
that look into places where no one should go.
I should not be here I know but..
..I had to go see.

And looking at me that is looking at me behind the mirrors that free all illusion
I'm confused by the notion that the mirror's an ocean
An imperfection in the reflection?
Am I just a section..a rip in the ripple that I thought due to the stippling effect,

Affecting an air of nonchalance
I try to balance my act as I'm attacked by an idea
I should be a
Circus performer.

I can't stay here forever..Alice never..nor will I.
I've got my eye on the glass
Wonder if it's thinking of letting me pass..
..back on through.

There's a map but I can't see how far,
I write a note in my diary as an aide-memoire
which is as far as it goes because I promptly
forget.

We have to get there soon
the days are getting shorter
and the nights a bit colder.

In the valley
humanity shimmers
like a dragonfly's wings in
the gatherings by the river.

I wonder
who will bring in the sheaves
when everyone leaves?

The light makes my eyes glow
but I know
we are just the coals in a fire
that's slowly dying.

The petals opened wide
I slid inside
and tasted honeydew.
Few if any have felt this delight
of a rose opening up
in the dead of night.
Her scent
lent me wings,
things are not the same
I now know the name
of the rose.

Writing
about the redeemer
because
didn't he seem a
very nice
man.

What I believe is in a belief
that gives me relief from
the trials that I face
and
when the day comes
and come it will,
when the sun goes out
and
the time stands still
I'll still live
because
I believe.

What does it mean when you have that dream where a kitten cries on your chest?

This is not what I had in mind when they outlined the plan for me  as a dreamer of a man,

cats were never mentioned and certainly not itty bitty little kitty ones.

Signing on and excepting the final clause
happy about it and it is about accepting.

fighting is in the agreement too,
you and I
make each other cry
occasionally,
some times happily
other times not so.

we still sow the seeds from which our
crop will grow and know that apart from
the final clause
all is well in the garden.

If you want to pursue them
well do then
nothing is stopping you
except for you being you
doing what you do
and dithering.

I wonder,
is there laughter in the hereafter
do they sing songs
go for long walks
and
talk to themselves

The spiritualist in me
who’s been absent
for centuries
believes it is so
and then
so it is.

I’m not going to be late when
the coachman comes
that’ll fool him.

But the evening will dawn on me
and the warmth of the light
will see me
and I will be again
the ocean
I once was.

Because there's always more
or less
and I guess that's true
except when I'm with you
then it's always more

and when I'm locked in your searchlights
the nights become dangerous,
but so good.

There is poetry in ***** plates,in the
demo and undemocratic states of undress
unless of course I am mistaken.
I see it everywhere,
in the **** on the street in the litter that people keep dropping
poetry in what I see and what I see is poetry,
foul mouthed,open mouthed and blast it out,shoot from the lips,shoot from the hips,nicetones,ricetones,break the bones of your audience,if they had any sense they'd be up on the stage venting their lines in prose or in rhymes.

On page thirty three when they write a book about me there will be this;

If you don't like me to rhyme
you still have the time
to *******.

No apology friends my life is a means to an end and the end when it comes will run into many more ends,many more friends and poetry goes on,in the dead and the gone,in the fast and the quick,lick your lips have a go,put your poetry on show
just do it
or go on your way.

there used to be
a church there
old and stone worn
born into and of the
'rock of ages '

where is it now?

it shines behind green screens
reflecting
the one armed bandits
in the glass eyes of
the fortune tellers booth.

arcade games and
not rosary beads
feed the hopes of man

I tame lions for a living
and tigers on Fridays
my days are a gambol
through every jungle
I read about when a boy.

In the bingo hall
(which doubles as a
dance hall )
under the glitter ball
because it's so sixties,
I'm  waiting for a number
to call me
I've been here forever
which is a long time in
anyone's generic code

I meant genetic but generic
is the same by any or another
name.

If the lights go out
I might too
but it's not up to me
It's all down to you

which makes things
simpler.

Except
now there's no place to pray
and if I did
it's a gamble and it's an
antiterrorist jungle out there.

Vigilante groups everywhere
I need eyes in the back of my head
just to watch my back.

The nomad will return
again and again
wandering
always.

Sadly, I say, RIP
to the weekend that was and was to be
it now resides in history,

a bit like me but younger.

I'm having
coffee, hot,
from the hot coffee ***
seems reasonable to me.

ah
Saturday
laze away and
think of things to do
and think of them some more,

breakfast,
might try a bacon roll,
take a leisurely stroll
but
I'll have to think about it.

thinking is good
but
doing is better,

I'm thinking of doing better.

Tier two
row four
seat five
and
we're
getting there,

This is like
'Watch with Mother'
the way they talk to you
as if
we didn't understand.

Well
Mother's gone
I don't have a TV
and I know exactly
what I knew
yesterday
which is always the way
when you're a day behind.

Talk to me
let's walk and talk to me
tell me of misery
show me a mercy.

The twenty third psalm of the twenty first century.

Abducted
Abused
Corrupted
Confused.

What do I know,
a rainbow,
yesterday,
or
was it long ago?
the colours blinded me
show me a mercy.

In sunlight's last romance
I get but
one last chance
come walk and talk with me
show me your mysteries,
mistress of destiny.

Fathers's farther away
Mother's gone
and what do I say?

what is there out there?

I want to see what's beyond
when I stare into
the distance

and distant is how it seems
waking
and dreams roll
into one


They're still gone.

Nothing grows along skid row, the
dead end of the town,
hopes and dreams glean little light as
poor folk settle down to eat,
*** noodle feasts, feasts indeed
for those in need, some say, 'a *** too far'.
as they themselves would settle down
to eat of caviar.

'God rest ye merry Gentlemen',
you den of thieves, no
one believes your charity,
your heart is filled with poverty and
yet,
how well you sleep, while others keep
the wolves at bay.

She lets out the dragnet and
it acts like a magnet
attracting me instantly.

She reels me in slowly
knowing that I'll  be
caught like a fly
in her trap.

Someone plays a harp with the strings of my poor broken heart,
there's always one that wants to take advantage
from my vantage point or my nadir nothing seems to be as clear as skin without a blemish.

Nemesis,
there's always one
more advantage taken on.

I'm taking off for warmer climes
said that many times and never done
but
now
I need a bit more sun, a bit more light
one gets so fed up just sitting tight
and anyway
the fence needs mending.

Perhaps if I imagine to be
or imagine it's me in the
rear view and you knew,
perhaps.

But imagine that wake up
the first cup of cha,
which is half of the dance
from a long time ago
though I don't feel like dancing
I know I must shuffle along.

If I imagine the space in a song
when you sing and bring all the
words to my mind that fit in,
perhaps the djinn in my head would
grant me that wish.

I imagine a touch
perhaps imagine too much,
but there's time.

Putting it on the slow burn
giving it some time
to turn
into a righteous indignation

they practice prostitution like
it's
something that's brand new
and those politicians fool you
because
that's what they're selling you
and you'll lap it up all kittenish
I wish it wasn't so,
but we've all been genome modified
brains fried
eyes fixed on the floating sphere
wish to **** I wasn't here
time
to do a Rip Van
hell man time
to disappear.

Degenerating, disintegrating while I'm
waiting for the social to be social and
feed my half starved family,
I've been waiting half eternity
but not so ******* patiently
******* take the **** and me
I'm getting fired up.

slow burn on the back burner
you take a turn and earn a buck
they'll try to ******* take it
and then wonder why
you think it's ****,

I wonder why but just a little bit
when I've nothing else to do

I was like death warmed up but I still felt cold,
looked old, she told me to go home, I stayed
because that's how I was made, these days
they break a fingernail and it's a week off sick

in the old days even if you'd been decapitated
they'd have waited for a doctor's note
before believing you
anyway
it's the flu' and not covid
and I'm ******' livid
someone gave me their ******* germs
without asking my permission

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.

She was a star a
long, long time ago
in one of those travelling
rodeos.

I remember her now and then
in the felt tip of an old blue pen
and scribble her name.

They used to say,
Only in America.

Anyone can be anything they want to be
but you can't be me
because I'm taken,
it's very nice when you're took,
you don't have to keep looking
over your shoulder.

She says
that I look young
which of course I do
I tell her that's she's
beautiful
which of course is true.

Sometimes a lifetime has to pass by
before you can to begin to understand why
it was so long in the making.

I should have done a video,
you know
like that man on the one man show,
but I didn't wake up in time
so I didn't go.

I won't be famous now,
they won't name a bridge after me
they'll probably just laugh at me,
well
*** 'em
I'm going fishin'

(20 minute poetry)



Another journey underground
below this city,
underneath the glitz and clamour
but
no glamour to be found when
you're travelling underground.

It's freezing cold
the tube train's old
almost as old as me

an announcement
or pronouncement,
Bethnal Green is closed!
I'm not surprised
it should have been closed years ago,
but this is due to staff shortage
a bit like in the
Wizard of Oz
because
because
there's millions unemployed.

London Underground is like a mill stone around my neck,
a windmill going round and round grinding the people down and down.

Into town and they never close my station
now I need to disembark
park my carcass down at work for eight more hours.

If the powers that be could only see this brew of discontent they'd have sent me a limousine.

Well
I can dream anyway.

you know what
they haven't got
a clue

the knives were out
today
the cook off, *******
I'm not going to play.

I kept out of the way
and watched from some
distance
the distance between them
becoming bigger.

Professionals?
okay
if you say
but
you know what
they haven't got
a clue.

'H' was a friend
worked most of his life
in a dead end job,
liked a drink
and drunk too much,
finally
he lost touch
with reality,
but like me
he
knew where he was going
then he was gone.

sometimes over a beer
I can hear him
spouting nonsense.

I was asleep outside the church door
when at a quarter to four
I get a boot in the chest
And a loud voice boomed out
"I think it's best
if you leave"

I quite sleepy, replied,
"Is it the bible that lied
Can I not sleep in the heart of my maker?
If not,
Then tell me who is it, that is my creator"?

A silence ensues then he shoos me away
I limp off to the methodist church
where more people lay
on the cold of the stone
chilled to the bone.

I don't blame God for my lot
for I'm in his plan
just a plot on his graph
and you've just got to laugh
when you see it like that.

We are the crossbeam
in the dream of a better day
and you'd better get used to it
you're going to see so much more of it
It's **** and you know it
do something about it or do nothing
and hope that tomorrow will bring
something more than a cold church stone floor
and a boot in the chest
I leave it to you
I'm sure you know best.

We're gonna make it one day
Gonna go far away
To a brand new start.

Going to open up wide
Let you step right inside
And take a piece of my heart.

When you tear down the walls
That my memory recalls
You tore down once before.

We're gonna make it one day
Babe it's not far away
To a brand new start.

They've been killing me for decades
with their pogroms and crusades
but
I'm still here
in the year
2018

Beggars to the left of me
beggars to the right
into the valley and
out of the light
out?
or that might be okay for some but
not this ***.
I'm going to spitroast a rat
let the lawmen have that
and I'll eat the best
sod all the rest
this is about yours truly
unruly and ill bred
fed on disillusionment
and slept in tents on
Clapham common,
common land for the common man?
ask the man when he bangs bracelets on your hands
and slaps you in lockdown
locked out of town,
beggars to the right of me
what's left of me?