What if when we got there it had gone?
what if what we went looking for had
disappeared or had never been?

I have seen the twinkle of a billion stars
but never touched a one
yet felt the gravitas of every spark
that lit my moment in the dark.

An electric ownership that
never fails to overwhelm me,
if there or not it knows no boundary,
my imagination looked, but it was it
that found me and so what
if it is not or never been?
I have seen it anyway.

No matter how nearer I get it gets no clearer to me and
all I can see is how much nearer I'll be to not seeing at all.
In this pinpoint of time where I am, can I as a man occupy each pinpoint of time as it passes by
and should I give a **** if I'm only a man and if I should,
why?

So,
so and so was live five minutes ago
but
I find no evidence to support this claim.

Personally I think Facebook's playing a game,  
'Bring out your dead'

I heard no bell nor saw a cart which suggests perversely that there is a heart that beats out there.

It's after six
I wash
the
morning picks a number
but 'tis I who roll the dice.

Sister's fast asleep and my
coffee's on the perc'
just realised it's Sunday and
today there is no work


Back to bed then


Don't believe
the facebook jive,
I was not live
just
pretending.

They told me in all honesty,
"you're a flying carpet"
and still they walked all over me.

I'd do the job for nothing if respect was what it gave,
but it seems to me Aladdin wants nothing
more
than for me to be a slave.

It feels like jellied eels out there
cold and wet and slippery
I think I'll put my slippers on
and watch catch up
on the TV.

But I've got to go out in the snow
fodder for the cannon
going on and on to a thousand
variations of at least four different
seasons in a day.

I know it's summer somewhere where
the Winter's left behind and its up to me
to find it, but at times this man's so blind.

If 'open sesame' won't do
and the bell don't seem to ring
I'll use a stick of dynamite
and blow the door right in.

It's a Sunday,
they say
let us kneel and pray
to some greater God
who's left the World in such a mess
I think that rather odd
anyway,
I get down on my knees
ask for forgiveness
pretty
please.


A chess game and they congregate
make their moves
until they reach
a stalemate

sixty seconds on the clock
the gun is cocked
the casbah's rocked
the door's still locked
I light the fuse.

In the turning I would spin
about
begin the magic
roundabout

twist the ropes and
in the twisting
I could cope

untangled I become the greater mess
hopelessness
like
homelessness
knows many houses
and
in those houses though there mansions be
I am adrift
admitting finally

which explains it totally?

It's as if I never understood what works of art that good men are

and by men I mean mankind which includes the female of the species

are we still **** Erectus?
do you not detect the irony?

derelicts and broken men lay anywhere
I see them everywhere

colluding with protruding avaricious eyes
I am wise to those ways.



and so like Whittington I turn,
returning to the origins
Darwin grins and says,
I told you so

I know
but because I doubted much like Thomas did
I saw it for myself and
felt the blood rush to my cheeks

He who seeks needs better sight than I and I have
blurry vision
except in 20/20 dreams.

as they say
It's all tickety boo until you
understand the reasons why

and I never knew.

On the St Lawrence
going upriver today
there may be gold in them hills
that I see lay before me

I will do me some panning and see
what pans out,
panning is what my life's
all been about

a nugget or two will do
no need to be needy or
any need to be greedy
just taking some time and
what I pan will be mine.

Waters are cold the higher
I get
shingles
slippery
wet.

I'm reflecting
on a man with a pan in his hand
a grizzled old face
a gold wedding band.

When I head back downstream
it'll be
to champagne, caviar, real coffee with cream
or is that just an old prospectors pipe dream?
I see diamonds that flash off the noonday Sun
as if
running atop of the water
I'm rich,
but I wish it was gold.

It's silent mostly
except for the water and birds
and the words I cuss out,
did I mention
that's what panning is all about.

I scramble through the brambles that
grow over my mind and try to find
a way out,

I guess panning is about that too,

Get me a half filled glass
let me drink
a free pass to happiness.

Haters have their hates
until the hate evaporates
leaving them
dried out husks of men,
women too,
they
have their hate.

it will evaporate.

Transience being the presence
and then gone
as long as we go on
we go on.

These measures that we take
to make indeed or break
are of little consequence
in the sheer eloquence
of an expanding
universe.

Closely aligned
even closer
when we bind

love and hate
what are they
a gate we open
a gate we close

She who shows me the way
shows me the light of day
and a light in the night
to steer by.

Riding on a clothes horse
sliding down the banister
boiled ham for tea on Sunday
with
the family in the parlour.

Memories make us who we are
and some memories
are by and far
the best.

If you've sinned then you will sorrow
not today and maybe not tomorrow
but as surely as night follows day
you are bound to pay.

never lend or never borrow
because as Bernardo Soares says,
it will lead to you getting *******

sound advice,

but give freely of your time,
we all know time is just a construct
that will ***** us in the end.

Ask Archimedes if you doubt that
principal.

Autophagy

and now we know
to whom the Nobel
prize will go

meanwhile
I'll go eat
myself.

Congratulations to
Yoshinori Ohsumi

Like an arrow from Cupid
making some people stupid,
Age comes a calling
but no one is falling in
love.

Though age be a temptress,
relentless,
it creaks up on me
to sneak up on me,
always cruising for a bruising
it uses up time.

Never get old I was told,
useless advice,
when our days
are as written, on
one grain of rice.

It holds me spellbound in
its withering looks
creeps into my skin and
paints wrinkles therein and
therein or thereon
lies the tale.

That Monday should come so soon after Sunday
is not the way I would have planned it.

It's a why me day
and why Friday?
why am I squeezed into
a tube train?
what am I doing here and
why me again?

The scallywag opposite is
chatting up a young ' Judy '
I think he
is on a losing wicket.

I like the old guy in
combat trousers
he obviously knows
that battle is about
to commence.

Another young man
with a backpack on
that's falling apart,
which makes nonsense
of its logo
' Powerfix '

and I can see a small piece
of an advertisement poster,
'100% recyclable'
and aren't we all
I think.

The problem is
I think too much
maybe
it's time to dumb down
try to fit in
try the gym
try some gin
try to begin
sometimes
I should slap myself quiet.

Done
and some say
he should be
some day
I will be
but today
I'll wonder
Why me
and go on my way.

Building regulations
to regulate the
building of buildings
forms to be filled in
holding up ceilings
feeling I've seen this
on sites where
I've visited.

Rubble's no trouble to Barney
when
Flintstones are used in
Cathedrals
and
the church holds sway to the people who pray
to a God that holds sway in the churches
where
there's people who pray.

just building pyramids that will stand
and test time.

Thundering and you're
still wondering
if it's going to rain?
what's wrong with you?
this is Summer
British style.

So
we paint that smile on
umbrella up and it's
back to the beach.

teach an old dog new tricks
but
he'll still die
and you.
might as well enjoy the view
of the wind farm.

Flooding in Finchley Central


What the **** would I write a book for?
my life is so much more
than words scribbled in ink

being me
you would think it comes naturally to scatch with persistence my time in existence.

I prefer,
if I'm gouging
a line
or two out of
thin air

to put it out there
in
real time
vocally

at least I would know then
that the words spoken are mine
and not some edit or editors
mischief.

To curse in a verse
ha,

the purists among you would think
that nothing is worse
and
in verse
all should be flowery
with
a rose or petunia

I'd sooner ya
didn't read me if
that's the way it
had to be.

If you need poetry
then you have to be fed
and like a horse to the water
sometimes we need to be shot
in the head before
we
can live.

So I give to be
forgiven,
she knows I've been shot and she's
the one keeps me living.

In here there's a beauty
that he
understands.

We study in a study those studies
and those studies we study can suggest
that those studying know best

I have been in many studies but never studied,
always in a hurry, ( hurried could have been better
used for the rhyme ) but not having the time being
in a hurry
I never gave it enough thought.

If we're all going down the same road
we'll need to carry lanterns and big sticks.

This isn't Enid Blyton and a tale of
'the magic faraway tree'
this is us in real life
trying to find a way through
the twenty-first century.

There are villains that lay in wait
and
will not hesitate to do you down,

take the road out of town
but
be careful.

Cooling for a while and then it gets annoying.

The third of July and I have to work, why?
because England is playing in Italy.

One has to wonder if one wonders at all
what is it about men kicking a ball
that has countries ready to war?

but it is cooling for a while and the rain makes me smile,
until it gets under my skin.

A snooze button and autoplay should be a standard fitting on Thursday,
it's almost where, 'are we there yet' begins and ends, but not quite, still got Thursday night to do.

Coffee tastes like a false dawn
but I wasn't even born when
that broke.

Peeling my shadow off the radiator
and
looking like an ancient gladiator
I go out to fight the day.

Feasible
reasonable
but is it possible?

They talk in riddles
and keep you guessing
but the fix is in
and we know they're messing
with our minds.

I have a positive outlook
and if I test positive
will two positives make a negative?

on the plus side of the adjustment to
the lockdown in my basement I have
built a time machine
or did I dream that?

I was howling at the moon
but that's because I need a shave
or I could become a mountain man
and you can call me
Yosemite Sam.

Where there's humour there is hope
and that I hope is more than just
a rumour.

Halfway through the night
when you wake and
feel the urge to write,

there must be something wrong
with me,
something in the water that I
drink
or something in the poetry.

If nothing's for free
who's paying for the
ink I use,
who's paying the
electricity?

answers I shall seek
today, tomorrow or
next week,
but first
I need to get a little sleep
and
keep my options open.

If I wanted to
I would
would you?
but it doesn't do to want or ache so I take a lesson from the book which catches me on its hook of quotes and I take notes.
1 do not need
2 do not seed the path from which there is no return
3 burn the book

Look we're all grown up and know the score and old men have done it all before so there's nothing new.
but
I would
would you?

See
we've got to try
got to spread the wings and fly
and die a little every day
if just to hear you laugh and say
'I will
will you'?
and sometimes it does to do and need
and every deed that goes undone is one more loss added to the sum of all the loss.
We can't gloss over that which we miss
the paint's not made that would cover that and this is true.
So I will
will you?.which is just a matter of fact
no going all around the houses just a statement of a meaning
seemingly innocuous
and fortuitous in its results
resulting in a union
though not religious in the sense of some communion
more like a meeting of two.wrapped in soft and tender slender limbs and who said,'England swings'?
they knew what was on the menu
it was just that the venue kept on changing and the faces that would rearrange into one more 'will you' it was strange
but I can't complain
nor explain the reasons why I settled down into a life,  in a quiet town with quiet ladies and bingo halls and someone calls to me,
'come play'
but it was just an echo from another yesterday
and as I lay out in the Sun
where what began,begun and ends I send my love to all I knew
just to say
I did
did you?

Cast off
stop knitting
start swimming
we're all drowning.

it's not quite time
but
it's a quiet time
and that's good enough.

Someone takes pity
in New York city
and drops me a dime
but
the city is played out
like an overworked mine
and a dime is all I expect.

Dreams.

On the streets of old London
they sold me a dud one
a wind up and watch me go,
but the clockwork went
and I spent most of my time
wishing for New York and
the drop of a dime.

I'm treading water
because I ran out of grapes.

has anyone seen,
what happened to
that wonderful dream?

Taken away!
to float in thin air
for another day?

the night brings no sleep to me
the sunlight only bothers me
age is creeping up on me
and
I'm becoming somewhat of a
misery.

under and over and over again
the dreams start to crank up
this tired old frame
and
are you awake,
watching
the mile-high blue sky,
watching
me fly
watching me try
to catch all my shadows

It's not about the reaching out
the clasping of hands
not about who
or why you
want to connect

It is
I believe
In the air
that we breathe
the same air
everywhere

I'm no different
just me
quietly
sitting
in the great city

I need not
your pity
I need
interaction

I'm not a fraction
though am in the margin

feel free to barge in
engage me in
conversation.

No beggar am I,
but
I try to get by

perhsps only Icarus
could fly
even falsehoods are good
If you happen to believe.

If achievement is the
mark of your talent
then stop and say hi

thirty pieces of silver and
why?

I ask for no favour
no trade to be had here.

are you bored though?
did you want to go
it alone?

I'm always at home wherever home it might be

pick up and call me?

I could set free the thought
let it fly
it could be Daedalus
that crashed from the sky.

It's all Greek
next week
It'll be old
news.

bad news
mad news
who's fed up?

lockdown is lifted
viewpoints then shifted
and lockdown's not
lifted no more.

Feeling 'Hotel California?'
we told ya that
no one would warn you
but
you went and checked in.

I said that to myself in the hall of mirrors
and the silence of the echoes drowned out
sixty-three images.

A caricature
which could be real
but I'm not sure.

Anyway
I'm ready for the clock
to chime in with,
time to go.

Guard posts at most
designed to hem people in
to pin people to a slide and under
a microscope there is no place
to hide.

They're building them taller
and taller and the taller they build
them
the smaller men seem.

Four thousand Windows which are
really glass eyes
two thousand faceless spies forever
watching.

Catch me I'm falling from
floor fifty two
who watching me now?

Every tower block shocks me
they are punches that rock me
I'll have to submit to
a technical knock out.

communication lines down as
these towers cut cords with
swords of high tensile steel
wrapped in
a concrete mix

They've fixed me fine and dandy
a handy exit on the top deck
polyester ligature to pop round
my neck and who's
watching me now?

Nobody expects the Spanish disposition.

Sun, fabulous,
sea, sparkling
me,
diving in
to another Martini

( but he didn't mean me, he
meant the giant in the beanie
hat)

I pay no never mind to the things
I might find, but I do mind them
when
they're finding me,
but
then
nobody expects
except for England
and the English ******
urging on the English men.

I take a look on Wigan pier and not a single ship is here,which to all intents is rather queer,so I peer a little nearer and see an albatross that tossed his beak into the air and declared,
'it really is so darned unfair,to build a pier where the sea's not there,I think I shall complain',
and who's to blame, old Georgie boy? you toyed with our perspective and tried to give us oceans where we knew was only mills and grit,
but I'm thinking that you hit the nail right on the head as Northern productivity is all but done and dead.
we might as well be all at sea, the albatross and me.

She gets out of bed
opens her eyes and
raises her head.

The sun lights her face as
she faces the day and who knows,
this rose by any other name
may know mine.

I suppose at this time on a Sunday night
it's nearer to a Friday night than it was
twelve hours ago,
Friday is still a long way though.

Not that I'm complaining,
it's not been raining
the sky didn't fall
nothing dropped off of me
I am still whole
and She,
has been very nice to me.

Then I remember
on Friday night at this time
I'll be thinking,
in no time at all
it'll be Monday
and work.

When I am back
on the brink again
thinking this time
I'll sink again
and someone sends me
the link again to find my way
back to the brink again
it's time to take stock,
time to use the unlock code
hit the road
seeya later.

Who knew Hebrew
like he knew
Hebrew?

and now they sell Easter
wrapped up in a bow,
but we know,
don't we?

Her body could sing with no word to be heard but would deafen me just as it should be.
The skies seemed to explode in her eyes, a mosaic of blue with lights running through them,
Men fell at her feet
whereupon I would meet them, look at and delete them from memory.
She could pluck tunes from my fingers,make melodic singers of my stubby old hands.
She stands with the Amazons.

She was probably a lover of Picasso
or maybe just a lady dressed in blue,
but she left the night behind somewhere in Salem
and she wandered through her thoughts and
back to you.

And you,
a martyr to the looks she never gave you
a nomad in the city of the night,
a rose by any other name is not
a lioness to tame
she was probably a lover of Picasso.

Model me model a model of me
plasticine nose
styrofoam lips
eyes as green as the seventeenth sea, each eye a pea to peep out and see
the model who models a model of me.


ridiculous?

preposterously so
a fantasy
lunacy
but before you go
model me model and model it so

I model an alpine mountain from snow
it melted, just
thought
that you'd like to know.

Why put a full stop when a comma might do
why not a bus stop
a pit stop?

the mess that I'm in
hope the meds soon kick in
I'm running on overdrive
all cylinders firing

do you have any idea
how tiring this is?

Comfortable in the knowledge that
It's Wednesday
the earth is flat and fried eggs do not roll,
I am digging ditches, making holes, taking time to feed the innards of this soul
I do believe sense can be made of noughts and crosses if they're laid down end to end.

As you can see
the madness has infected me
although to be fair
I'm sure that it was always there.


if you can or cannot understand, if you plan your day accordingly
like me you'll see it's just a magic show.

On I go
forwards to obscurity
and I won't mind if you
forget me,
I will remember you.

there could be poison in the air
if that's so
I wonder where it came from.

and belatedly my senses all return
I long for,
nay I yearn for
that which could be more.

In trying to put lines upon the screen
I've tried and seen and cried and pried dried ink from life kissed hands,
but no one understands the tortures I've endured

and now assured of a better future the sun comes out
the lights go off

It's always a trade
something destroyed as
dreams are made and
noughts and crosses
laid end to end.

We're all specialists at missing appointments,

Rushing there only to find that we're late or discovering that it's not the right date
when the right date was yesterday.

I'm on the jubilee
neither early nor late
and
no matter to me
whatever the date
because it's always today,

There's a smell of Chanel
a faint hint of seduction.

He's got a tablet,
but it's not for a malady
it's just for watching
catch-up TV,

and him
with the lucozade,
looks like he'll
need more than that


She waits for the doors to open
but
it's the other doors and yet she
stays in place
I call her
Miss Stone Face.

Lady laughs and gets the granite stare
from Miss Stone face,
I wonder where she'll get off.

Man reading
Kublai Khan

Girl with mum
going to school
looking glum.

old spice sits next to me
a throwback?
a knockout in history
I don't think
he's
Henry Cooper.

All these people
and myself included
going to somewhere
not being
excluded.

How many?
so many before me
and millions more to follow
on the Jubilee.

Miss Stone Face alights
at Green Park,
it's still dark
perhaps no one will notice.