And you have to pretend that this is the first time and it'll be different from the last time, because really you know, that this is just another time that you're pretending,

someone said the end is in sight
someone said that night follows day
someone always says something which means nothing, how can it?
how can we believe anything when we're told everything which means nothing?

I'm washing my hands again,
wash after going to the bathroom
and
wash after being on the keyboard,
I see the circular and will it ever stop?

it's just a punctuation,
someone else said that
or it might have been me
pretending it was someone else

I think we're all someone else now
Superman
Cooperman
or the tin man looking for a heart.

at least the movies move me
mostly from the chair
sometimes out of myself
to tap dance through this
mal de mer
to pretend that it's not me
at sea,
sitting there
brooding.

It's no better to be late than forever
because forever is far longer
than no never, but no never is still
long enough if you count that kind
of stuff and nonsense,
finite is alright and being in finite
is super.

I'm getting ready to engage in employment
which is far easier than engaging in conversation
with strangers

and so
on a wing and a prayer mat
with a cheery goodbye to the
black cat which doesn't seem bothered
at all,
I fall off the edge of the platform and
and am borne off into the West
End
which is still not as long as forever.

Are we leasing time from armageddon
ammunition for the guns that run like
clockwork toys through the hands
of little boys.
Are we hoping against all hope
that the hangman's rope is made from
cotton thread.
A thought to go to bed on

who if not the Devil loaned us the rights
to ***** out their lights and call it
a Holy war, and
what ***** out of Hades would mutilate
ladies,babes in the arms,who'd harm them.
If human compassion has gone we are out in the cold
nothing we love and nothing we hold means a thing,
sing hallelujah as the bullets cut through you and the
rapture is come,
not from the almighty but from the soldier who carries a gun.
A thought to go to bed on

wondering if they'll send over a bomb
how long will the night be,will the end of it
find me
alive.

Road works?
well
I'm glad something does
in this failing state
can't wait
until
the Gas works.

I often look,
more often fall
waiting by that
gasworks wall
for a non existent
kiss

songs that are not true
forever
***** with my mind.

Even down in Chapel town
where the brothers
meet to pray,
where hallelujahs lay
like sleeping dogs,
the fog's
coming in.

We have Aladdin to thank
and Anne Frank
the book bank too
even storytellers
seldom
tell the truth.

If by chance
the twenty first century
should mention me
say you
don't know me.

If you're expecting the Count to drop in on you,
to **** some blood out of you,
Don't
because he's too busy to bother about the likes of you and me, lifeless as we are and too **** blind to ****** see that our veins are all but shot, there's no blood left that they haven't already got,

We think this is a second chance to redeem ourselves and that the rapture is delayed, execution stayed,

I take a moment here to decide
should I use within a verse,
" no lethal injection, but is it
worse and if Covid is a curse
upon man, where's the blueprint
and who formulated the plan?"

I decide to omit it
because
who out there would
print it?

If it's Tuesday at Limehouse Basin
does a tree die in the Amazon?

Cause and effect without which we wouldn't be,
but I'll never be, said he, him not being optimistic.
back to cause and effect.

Meteorologists have a word for that,
and it's 'drip'

get a grip, they'll say as they waffle away
or you'll never be anything but,
but that's okay by me.

Outside the colouring book
waiting to dive in, with
all my friends, the crayons,
coming along for a swim.

Take a look,
there is no shelter at this inn
we're all booked up,
so take your donkey and
'sling yer hook'

Having a baby and nowhere to stay..doh..should have reserved a bit earlier in the day,a bit late now you're having a baby and,
anyhow
who's the dad?

Then three old goats with long flowing coats who had checked it all out on tripfinder,couldn't find yer,so the gifts,one was scent,a towel set,a tent were then left in the cleft of the stick which Jesus walked with and boy was he sick,he called at the inn and found nobody there,no babies in cribs,no nappies or bibs,but he did find the cowshit which stuck just a bit to the soles of his sandals.

Waterloo.

So the nativity took place in left luggage,a case for a cot and a hot cup of tea though Mary preferred de-caff coffee,'it's free', said the clerk and he went back to work and the three men were none the wiser.

Someone always suffers
if the deal's not fair and square
and one by one they'll have you on
and take more than their share.

There's a constant state of aggravate
which is somewhere off the coast
and I'm bound by life to be there
in the place, I hate the most.

Shopping in Stratford is
always a struggle
cash at the checkouts
bags we must juggle
but
it's got to be done
or
no food
I'd be glum
if it wasn't for
shopping in
Stratford.

'That Evening Sun'
would probably be fun
to watch
if I was young,
not too much fun when
I'm getting on

years pass in the hour glass
trickling,
sickening?
no
I just go with the flow and
the tide will take me
come what may.

..and then I think of them when I wake and the whole day breaks in two,
I wonder if they think of you,
I thought.

It never really matters who it is that shatters the dream
the result it seems is the same.

They say,
give a dog a name and he'll remain a dog
and who's to blame then?

Marshmallow mist
as if the sun
kissed
a daffodil.

I will remember
each morning anew
every time
I see the
daybreak
with you
at
my side.

Marshmallow mist
and the sun
kissed
me.

I am the aftermath
the train wrecked
the car crash
the plane that fell from
the sky,
but I ask
why so?

As Grant used to say,
'why not no?

nothing's clear to me
and that should be
patently obvious.

Peacefully disintegrating
I am the twenty one grams
lost in death and
waiting to go
Bernardo mentioned it
( the weight )

I wonder, does he really know?

I just borrowed it from a
line he wrote in a poem he penned,

this should be the end
but it never is.

A door opens somewhere
the light switch clicks
and the evening wall is
built from the bricks
of one more
day.

She
sits on the edge of
her teacup
( a limited edition )
art everywhere
and somewhere the
lights go out.

There is no moral in
the stories we tell
no sounds from
the sea
no shells on the beach,

we live in reach of
the outer
reaches
never stretching and
building walls from the bricks
of one more day
is the only way to survive.

On the finger of a deft hand
her left hand
wears a wedding band,
reminders
of tea cups and cake stands
( all limited editions )

life in a red brick
almost a conjuring trick
she magic's herself
away.
.

She was the whirler of webs that held me close to her breast
and what I liked the best
was the look in her eye
that told me untruths but I didn't cry
as her fingernails etched her pain down my back
I went back again for more and yes, she
she was the most adorable being
seeing how cruel she could be.

She was the speeding car that knocked me over
the honey bee wrapped in soft silken clover
and I stood there baring my chest willing the car to come, do its best
I'm not sure if she did
she had hidden her heart from me
and only let me see what she wanted me to see
which could be distressing
like ******* in the dark
not holding hands in the park
little things which mean a lot.

She was the car in the parking lot
ignition switched off
engine cold
At times she raced
I paced myself but she knew I was caught in her headlights
those hot nights
trapped all the same with no choice
I was lost,
but loved playing the game.

One the web was begun
and spun
around my days and nights
I couldn't sleep
couldn't keep still
enslaved to her will
I will die with her name on my lips
she won't even know
she has forgotten it was so long ago
did honey ever taste as sweet?

'Stand on me'

memorandums are not all they're cracked up to be

give me a 'V A T'
Dave.

Terry's a minder and it's getting harder to find a
chappie like him

down at the 'lock up' we knock up a bargain and
down at the market we
'knock 'em all out'

'er indoors' wants me to retire
to warmer shores
and
in a moment of sadness
I might just agree.

'Stand on me'
it ain't easy to be
a
spiv.

The module I handed in
was
( at the time )
engaged in a
Lunar landing, in
that unbelievable moment
of madness
I took leave of my senses,
but
they'll remember me now.

Up there at NASA
it's not a case of
mi casa su casa
and
Trump
got the jump on me,

now
I'm in the penitentiary
can someone
please come visit me

ps bring a cake.

We have to keep on keeping on,
keep on muddling through,

my horoscope reads like a fairy tale
compared to some whose ships never sailed,
if I failed
I did so greatly,
but see me?
I came back
a
Lazarus trying to find the way to Nazareth
to offer thanks.

and the door is either open or closed, the
same as the eyes that perceive it.

Doors I know
and know very well
doors lead to doors that
led me to hell.

I came back and that's what counts.
the prodigal
imbued with indomitable spirit
as we all are.

If I sit here and savour the minute
if I hear a pin drop in Lahore
does it make life sublime
if I'm wasting my time
could there possibly be
anything more?

why do larks rise each morning to drown me
If I swim will they all fly away
in the songs that they sing is it hope that they bring
do they move on the wing just to sing in the morn
were they there on the day of the day I was born'

as the pin drops the penny engages in
the history of questions I've asked
and the reels start to spin picking out every pin
and the moments I see
question
will I ever be
what becomes of the lark when it's cold and it's dark
does each song hibernate
does it wait for a time
when I'm sitting and savouring a moment of mine?

If I knew I could say
if I was when today
I feel fine.

Somewhere over the stars and under the moon
And I'm thinking
that's she's thinking
things will be happening soon
I'm busy drinking her in like a glass full of gin
and in the Mother's ruin
something beautiful 's brewing.

On the shore where we wore nothing but
in the lapping of waves
we both became slaves to desire
the moon rises higher.

One of us cries and one of us dies
it may have been me
if this is a death
then this death sets me free.

thus the hearts become one until the sun starts to show
and this day begins
with two wonderful grins
and the girl at my side
watching the tide
and becoming once more
locked together by the shore
over the moon.

Ultimately
when we are done
we will become
food
for the next generation
and so it goes.

Wit
is
and then it's not
but
I have coffee
when she looks at me
like that and
when her looks look like
they'll
knock me flat
there's always that
to fall back upon.

The night has gone 
because all nights do
and ghosts are laid to rest
as the daylight floods into my
eyes and circulates

they say that he who hesitates...,
but I won't,

Motivation is the way to rise
and meet this brand new day
but I hesitate,
I said I won't and then I do
the night has gone so why
so blue?

I have sailed on many ships
sunk into
so many lips and kissed and
missed the point

harbouring no grudges
she nudges me from
this reverie,
I dress and
make some Earl Grey tea
she prefers
Darjeeling.

Looking at you like this
with the memory of your
kiss
on my lips
makes me want for more.

Every time you look back on your memories you add another memory to look back on to the memories you looked back on
and it's hard to keep track of those memories, so back off and let sleeping dogs sleep.

Is it only me or does everyone see what was and could be in every memory that we drag up for inspection?

Thursday,
the mirror needs batteries
because that is not me
in the reflection, mine
was left in a mountain lake
years ago.

by the umbilical
by the spherical
by the universal
but mostly to the
unknown.

I have known and forgotten
the lost and the rotten
the good and the bad.

Not sure who I am
a mystic, a child
or a modern man,

attached or detached?
that's the catch.

It's over and done with
and I should give thanks
to the colonels of catastrophe
and those of lesser ranks,

each makes a small division
in this life that's not my own
and takes up board and lodgings
in this body, I call home.

But as the satellites keep telling me
I am GPS acquired
monitored and mounted on my
own glass shard of spires.

I only dive in deep to
extinguish constant fires that
would relinquish me of life,
hard earned though it may be
it would be easy for me to lose.

Trying to pull my thoughts in
from the shivers down my spine,
getting it together one more time.

And so I rose
blew my nose
did what risers do,
just trying to get through
another day.

The paperboy who's sixty-eight years old
whistled far too gaily as he shoved my
daily Daily,
through the letterbox,
but
everything's a ****** when you're trying to
get a wiggle on or trying to pull your thoughts
in from the shivers down your spine.

If it's going to be this way
then this'll be the day that
it's going to be.
If we are free in this land that
wars were fought for,
how come they're chaining us all
to the floor?

I'm here, austere or not, but it
seems they forgot about people like me
in this land of the free.

Let me take a look in the book of the riches
and tie up my britches with lace from the binding.

If this is the way and there's no light in the tunnel
let alone light in the day we shall sink and some think
we're already done for, but not me,
I see the horizon with ten million citizens sat on the
skyline waiting for their time to come,
the sons of the Sun will rise and with cats eyes for eyes
they'll scratch out the lies we've been told.

That old mother of parliament, hell bent on her intent
to impoverish us, undernourish and under her feet
trample us down had better beware
there are new kids in town and they're itching to fight to
let in some light.
We are all in this together
like it or not.

Life,
I'd like some of that

ten percent would be a decent amount
any more and I'd have to take off my shoes and count on my toes

but if really means dream my dreams on
I'd like some.


It shows me how shallow that living's  become
I'm just a minnow in the minutiae of the third eye.

I trample through blackthorn wondering if this is a life
why the hell was I born?

the other end looks peaceful, enough to send me to sleep and I dream on.

Lead soldiers line up in bright coloured lines
these are dangerous times for an army to be

clockwork trains whistle at me
and that's all I am likely to get.

' ask and you shall receive'

a message if you believe
from the great deceiver?

But it's all water that flows and time that flies
I'm in the middle counting the why's and what for?  

a groove on my gravestone
a line read in prayer
a tap dance to heaven
and will this get me there?

I see Jesus with John
at St Joseph's
and the Dalai playing
dubstep for free
and then Hail Mary comes in
with a flagon of gin
shouting let the baptism begin,

Thomas is still stuck in Epping with
Andrew who's such a dead loss
Judas as drunk as a Cistercian monk
makes the other two get very cross,

And I pray
but never on Sunday
there are too many sinners out here
it's usually on a Saturday evening
over a cold pint of best bitter beer.

Those inhibitions are likely to **** you
and you'll never know,
will you?

One in the eye
and a Cyclops passed by,
but
pay him no heed
you can have what you need
you have only to let yourself go.

Don't ask me what this means,
I only write
it's the ink that thinks for me.

The days are getting longer
time gets much shorter,
shrinking like me,
the ink thinks that too
in fact
whatever I do
it's the ink,
always
the ink.

The flame
has no more thought of the dying coal
than I had of getting old when I was young.

Our fires burn and some brightly
punching through the night,

some light our way to give us hope
some burn blue too
but that's life.

Sunday night and
tomorrow
bright and early
(Alright maybe not so bright)
I'll be there
Soho Square
waiting for the caretaker
to make a
Monday show of it.

Here's the bit that gets tricky,
I call him methuselah
but Dave is picky
and insists on Dave
then
tells me off for taking
the Micky.

all part of the charity where
although it's a serious affair
there's so much hilarity

Still work though
so I'll go on
going on about it.

...and there you go
if
Unesco says it's so
it must be true.

What does
World Poetry Day
mean to you?

Rich in many things when each day brings to me
imagination, and enough of it to see that there is
so much more.

and if someone has a good idea to open up a museum of good ideas it might be a good idea to go there, but there'd be a revolution because good ideas are ammunition and that's a good idea for freedom, someone said.

At  Revere's trading post where the most
you could hope for was a
fair crack of the whip
they'd strip you bare before
you knew where you were.

These traders ain't nice and a
crack of the whip or
fair shake of the dice
is not on the menu,

they want what
you've got,
trading or not
they'll
take the lot
and leave you
potless.

Then the tiredness kicks in,
the eyes start to pin
the head begins to drop and
you ready yourself to
start cropping dreams.

It seems like everything's real, and as you feel,
so it must be,
the dreams tie you down and it's
hard to break free,
Hours pass by like clouds in the sky and
they'll never return.

Do dreams help me learn?
do dreams make me wise?
The first thought on my mind when I open my eyes
is to find,
the white rabbit that flew under the bed,the one with the
mouse tail , the one who fed me more red cups of tea than I imagined existed.

Do you see what I mean?
everything's real though it seems it cannot be and it's still hard to break free,so
where does that leave me?

Tiredness is the taker
the maker or breaker of men,
Dreams are the thief that come sprightly to steal tiredness nightly and I welcome them in as my eyes start to pin
and I'm home again.

I didn't write
the night was bleak
the week was strung out
hide and seek.

I sat and saw a Sun go out and
yet the light remained.

We all play
'catch me if you can'

My mam  could catch
the moon in a glass of pop
and often did
for
her children,

so we could drink in those dreams
which seemed so far away
or as far away as tomorrow is
to yesterday



the night was bleak

I didn't write
until the day
was caught.

I'm offering you the light for free
if you look at life and what it could be,
not what you see,
but what it could be.

The cake company
will shun me
for this slice of philosophy.

If in the scenery
all you see is me
and by me
I mean misery
do a three sixty
and look at it again,

I expect the company to put
a hit out on me,
icing me for good.

so
stop your whinging and whining
which by the way I used to be
fine with
and give yourself a break
take the free light
see things as they might be
and not as they are..

I never travelled to St. Ives,
I met no man,
no seven wives and as
for pieman it's all lies man.

I saw no crooked man
no crooked mile,
no
Red Riding Hood,
no
Hansel,
no Gretel
no gingerbread house and no
sign of the wood,
no big bad wolf
no fat little pigs,
no Pooh Bear either
no bridge
no twigs.

It was as it was because that's how it is.

Go towards the light they told me
set yourself free they told me
be, they told me.

In the torchlight
a rabbit in the spotlight
stark and staring
wearing shivers for fur.

So
I shall be me
free or so they told me,
or a lucky charm to
hang on a key ring.

I'm trying to save a few friends but
everyone dies
everything ends,
nothing I can say can change the way that things are meant to be.
One day
it will be the end of me.
I wonder if when I'm dying, how many of my not so many friends will be trying to save me,
I don't mind waiting to see
I'm not ready yet
I want to get a few more years under my belt but
I've felt the coldness of the wind in my blood and my eyes have seen the shadows in the valley of the way.
One day
I'll be one of them,one of the shadow men,
a memory when you can recall me
but not yet.

It started off the way things do, with
a Hi, Hello and how are you,
then we wandered on in the early day,
I listened to the things she'd say.

We stopped off somewhere for
a cup of tea.
I talked, she sat and listened to me.
She had a cake and then two more
we went Dutch,
that's what sharing's for.

To the town and window shopping,
eyes popping at the cost if bought,
I thought the cinema was best, so
to the West End,
Leicester Square.


Where,
arm around her, back seat row
but it didn't go that way at all, she had
a call, the mobile phone,
father told her come on home.

It ended the way things usually do, with
a nice to see you, like to meet you,
can we make a date?

And just as usual
fate intervenes,
I wake and curse these lonesome dreams
I always do but it's the only time
that I meet you.

We are living in tumultuous days, being ******* so royally in so many ways
and E bay wants to sell us krap
what do I think of that?
I think it's ****
I think we ought to take a bit of time,climb out of the mire,wire the terminal,germinate and take the plunge.terminate or take the lunge into whatever comes.

Plums and trees and nature sees the end's in sight,take your partners hold them tight,the last waltz starts tomorrow night.

It's all a load of 'howsya father' I'd rather take a ferry boat than wait around here just to gloat,
in fact I'll take the underground where sad old men like me abound
and so I'll see you
somewhere around the time
the clock strikes nine or now and then and men just walk away.