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The Bat-signal isn't working
that signal's ******,
the commissioner's on his own
I think that his goose is cooked.

Oh, Batman,
don't be a wuss.
said Robin, gobbing off,
fobbing off the remark
as you do in the dark,
Batman
paid Robin no heed,

two men in tights have no need to explain,
explaining would be a pain in
the ****.
Alan Napier was the real hero.
The colours that we see are lanterns that we lit
and flow freely
between the lights of love,
all we will be is tied intrinsically
to you
to me
and to eternity.
I love that look when she looks like she loves me and she loves the look that I look back to her, each look like a book full of words we don't speak, but we read every line on every page until the end and then we look like we'd like to look some more and so we do and she gives me that look that says, I love you, look at me I blush like a schoolboy on a first date with a first rate chick, lick my lips because my throat is dry and try to act all nonchalant,
she looks like looks could **** and if they do then dreams come true when she looks at me,
I look at her
we share a look
make love,
the book
writes itself.
The sign said no entry,it meant me,I know it,I rode on right through it and thought that I knew it
all.
The policeman in a court date said that I, just would not wait for the lights to go green and he'd seen me do eighty in a thirty mile zone.
I was sent to a home for the wayward and flighty,a light sentence upon me,could not believe I was not free.

See me, on a saturday and I'm back on the racetrack,known as the M thirty motorway and I'm clocked at a ton by the feds in the lay by,who with sirens mad blaring came a tearing along after me,nicked,apprehended me and again,I could not believe I was not free,
I got four months in Dartmoor which get a poor recommendation,it's no picnic park for the youth of this nation,released in September,though it should have been May and soon after that in a 93 Fiat with go faster stripes,I was striped up quite rightly by the boys in blue and tightly,
handcuffed and roughed up and locked up again.
Some times I unwind,
unline the lines
unrhyme the rhymes
and sometimes
I see who I am.

It was late on the coast road
but the cliffs were excited
I'd been invited to the
last show on Earth.

Many before me and more than
behind me
and later I found me
sometime out at sea.

The lady that named me ashamed then to
find me
put rhythm to the rhymes when I could not believe
and the sea separated like some biblical story
as I walked up the coast road
going home for my tea.
After midnight
when the memories of stars light the sky.

have you been there,
where the air is so clear that
you can hear yourself breathing?

you look at the heavens and
start believing,

I believe in
something that's greater, you can
call it the architect or call it the creator
but something far greater than this.
Wandering minstrels blow their bubbles and the music makes my troubles wander too.

In the pipes of Pan where Loki lurks to entice strangers, see his works of trickery, not for me the rooting ram nor the nabob I'm the stay at home and feet up comfy man.

She plays the price of whist, solo twist it stick while down East London way in Hackney Wick they build pontoons to ford 'Old Ford' a trick the Romans knew.

Running through each mountain pass like a river steaming in the dawn I become a molten mass of limitless enthusiasm only to fall into the gaping jaws of the waiting chasm which was waiting all the time for me,
I am much better the comfy man than one who spans the continents, explodes into the elements.

I call for tea
she says make your own,
in my home she is the castle
and the queen.
Franked with some intelligence by a
machine which casts significance,
like a shadow I am posted on the walls
of ***** places, where I've seen
the seven faces covered by Salome's
veils.

I trail off sometimes grumbling,
sometime drunk but always stumbling to
meet the makers of the lights which dim
the days and shade the nights.

An envelope which holds the key, inside,
inside there's always me
a message written on a ship
that;s sinking in the sea.

Help they say is on the way
I'll wait,
and forty days or sometime later
I'm still a waiter.

They frank cranks a dime a time and
that's a business which I wish
was mine, all mine, but I have some
intelligence which I must believe is
of significance.
I'm still a waiter waiting for the
long shot of the evermore and
that's being frank.
It's all a repeat
I lost
got beat
beat a retreat
it's all a repeat.

but how things come back to taunt you,
those you loved, their faces haunt you

I forget them now and then
and realise it only when
I remember again,

but wanting to will never do,
and never doing, but wanting too,
and face it
you love the haunting of your life.
When you have to give yourself
a stern talking to
because you wanted to stay in bed
but that won't do,
will it?

apparently not,

I got so sick of the sound of my own voice,
that in the end there was no choice but to
get up and get out there,

we know work isn't fair
but worse things happen at sea,

She,
tells me
to be brave.
Those drunken trees,
branches swaying and
leaves falling all over
the place.
Autumn.

Mother said,
as she often did
and as often as that Mother bid
we did.

Mum could spot a speck of dirt behind my ears in candlelight
what great sight my Mother had.
My dad said,
"wash behind tha' lugs lest spuds'll grow inside thee head",but
dad as fathers will kept quiet until he needed to
chip in with words,
and though those words were few
we knew
he loved us too.

Time spins
like that bottle game and yet time sometimes remains the same
but I'm glad that I can still recall memories in
that distant fall of my
youth.
Show me how to let go
how to freeflow
to bend in as the winds
blow
and in the letting go
the letting go will let me know
how far I've got to go
until I get there.

everything's phenomenal
when you're on the approach
to terminal
but
I'm thinking of taking a sabbatical
show me how to let go.
I just checked it and yes it's still Wednesday,
I think they've added on some hours to the day
it can't really be this long, can it?

and it's raining but I'm indoors and happy
except for the Wednesday thing

tomorrow is Thursday which is a long way
from Monday,
I am
beginning to think that everything is longer
and further or farther the older I get,

it's still raining.
Yes
the wind's still blowing
the bells are ringing
there's a children's choir
on the radio singing,
it must be Sunday.

The Lord's day of rest
well
he doesn't have to do
his best to tidy up
move the empty cans
and wash the coffee cup
sweep the floor
or
iron the shirts,
dirt's where you look
and if you look hard enough
you'll find it.

I'm going fishin'.
Tea with the drifters
lifting lids on the kids there and
they're all on the skids there,
the dossers and tossers,the pikeys
and grifters,
all with the same name and
sidelined,
blindside of the game,
and with nothing
to choose between see or be seen
we don't see.

We don't see the lean one,the tall one,
the
skinny and the short one,the young or
the old one,
the one with the dream gone but
we all see the hands out,
all fear the question,
(could that be me?)
'spare any change guv for a hot cup of tea?'

On a Sunday for some when we pray and give thanks,
there are some that work hard in the local food banks.
It is to them we should pray and not to some God of the day
who disappears at will.
And I'm sure God will forgive me for saying this system is *****,
it ain't right,
someone's skimming the cream
someone's stealing the dream and
all we'll have left is
the night.
Reeling down Broadway
and feeling there's no way
to make a wrong situation right.

Followed by phantoms
shadowed by lanterns
makes this a long lonely night.

There's a rainbow or crossbow
not sure which so I wait
for the lightning to strike.

When I'm lit up I'll light out.

and it's the sand flowing through
every hour glass I knew
that crystallises these thoughts.

Elementary central on the tube
going mental
which is always the way that it is.

The station clock
going
tickety tock
seems to rock with the
carriage I'm in.

Chancery lane and once more
I refrain from crying today
still
reeling down Broadway
feeling I should pray

I read the 'Metro' instead.
Are the colours so much brighter
or am I getting smaller,
is my breath becoming lighter as
my chest becomes a little tighter?

slowly creeping as I'm sleeping and taking
hold when I, awaking as I do, affecting me
as sure as it's affecting you.

This getting old lark is not a walk in any
park that I know and supposing as
I will that I must go, what then?
bath at six and bed by ten, tomorrow
do it all again
and what then?

is that the sun behind the clouds above
the talking of the crowds below?
supposing I must go
what then?
Arthur,
is not coming back,
the round table has gone
Camelot is a theme park,
but
the legend still lives on.
Arthur or Uther,
the truth
somewhere out there,
let sleeping gods lie while
we wait here to die
and
the maddest dogs
howl at the moon.

Have you pried inside me and
found secrets that have tied me
to the Cartels?

All's fair in love and wishing wells
but
don't push your luck,

**** me
even Xerxes has broken the pact
he's in on the act
that's the dealbreaker

I take a
minute to digest this
kiss the cat goodnight
and head back
to Camelot.
You might think
that
Jehovah's
coming over, but
I believe it's the
Devil,
who knocks at the door.

There is no
Samson
to pull down his temple,
there are no
fishermen
strung out on the shore,
there are no flaming
white lights on
the mountain,
there's only the
Devil
who knocks at
your door.


you can ram the book of the ******
up his backside,
but you can't hide in the
folds of undress,
we may be naked
and pure
but of this
I am sure,
it's the Devil that
knocks at the
door.
I asked,
who is he?
and the answer came back,
he's a calamity,
**** it that's me
that were talking about
I should really get out of this one sided conversation
preferably at the next station
but if not I can walk.
You can talk,
Look at you
what the hell do you do
except to put people down and
rub their nose in the dirt.

Hurt you?
I could
but why would I do that?
You're just a statistic
someone who's sarcastic
let's face it
you're past it
it's time for you to go.
If you don't know the way
let me show you.

Yesterday you bothered me
today as you can see
I don't give a toss
you're not my boss you're a loser
I choose a
different path
you can laugh
but then again you always did
you hid behind grins
but the circle of life spins
and you can't laugh no more
close the door when you go
just so I know
that I'm free.
Conscious of my surroundings and
au fait with the situation
I work within a formation of ideas.

It is not what I see
it is
what it
could be
that intrigues me.

The missionary commissions me
to write for his magazine,

but I've been there and done it, rose and rode through it while some never make it and I take no pleasure from that.

To stare from inside the stare, to be aware that it's late in the day, I'm up
to date
with current and currency trends
making the most of my money
and the pleasure if any
is giving to the many who have no
pleasures to call on of their own.
Trending,
it's like bending light
you write a poem
sometimes you get it right,
and the other times you struggle on,wondering
where the rhyme went wrong
I get along alright
I hit,I miss but that's okay,I know there'll be another day,another write and one more losing of the night,
bending light is trending right?
The mirror's poking fun at me
I think it thinks that I don't see,
I'll flush it down the lavatory
if it doesn't behave itself.
It'll be time to go before then
whenever then happens to be,
but before it's time to go
I'll make a cup of tea.
If there are no shepherds with sheep,
who then will keep the little lambs
from harm?
No wise men
no unguents
no balm,
No wars to arm up for
no gods to bow down for
no stars in the sky
no universe.
Why!
the end may be nigh but
it hasn't even begun
yet.
The first one went by in the blink of a why did it go so fast?
this next one I'll savour, **** out the flavour and have it with
mud pies and snails,
She said,
here, they're for you,
slip on shoes
um
well
I've slipped on banana skins
but never on shoes

thanks, I said,
I'll watch out for those
She knows
twenty four
seven,
that
when I'm with
her
it feels like
I'm
in heaven.
It's all becoming
digital
or
dermatological
either way
it's
making my skin
itch.

the thing is
we dive in
and
thrive in
no terms or
conditions
attached,
thus
we become
detached,
then
we'll complain
because we're not
complete
without a complaint.

I'm nearly done with it
now
the fields and the plough
look like they're out of it
and that'd be me
in a little bit
but a little bit lasts for
an awful long time.
The chewing gum bubble goes pop as I stop at the edge at the top of the mountain and Sisyphus says, 'you again?'
and it is me again, but I can explain. It's a dream that's recurring at thirty-three and a third, so I'm sharing it with you.

Then I wake and shake off the feeling that life's full of knocks, as there's a ring at the door. I think, a wedding? I untangle myself from myself and the bedding, but it's only the postman, and his name's not Pat.

The bathtub fills slowly as I swallow the pills
that the Doctor assured me would ease all of life's ills
and the chewing gum bubble goes pop.
It's a Tom, not ****, but Larry,
not Harry and Larry's the cat
that got rid of that at Number 10,

let's see what he makes of the next tenant.
Yeah
Friday night
so
what shall I do,
go into town?
I wish,
but no
I'm already in bed
in my dressing gown
no town for me tonight
still got a cold
the immune system's down
cheering myself up
with a bottle of brown.

sometimes
the weekend
is not all it's cracked up to be.
I knew it
saw through it
she's
an algorithm of a blue
whodunnit
in the library
with the
rainbow book,

I took a look
and
read pages
lasted ages
sorted out the
tigers from their cages
in the library
with the rainbow book.

She bet me
and wouldn't let me
get closer to her than,
do you get me?
in the library
with the rainbow book.

I could cry
somewhere in Mumbai
and would she care or
even wonder why
in the library
with the rainbow book.
We are the fine cut...line cut..
..potatoe face on Irish lace.
We are the here..we are the place.
And just in case
You fail to understand.
We have become the wall art..the new start..
..the baby grand has grown.
We are the music you've never known but you know it now.
The anyway we can be anyhow.
This is the step that walks out on the street
Get out and meet it...it's something you cannot ignore
Not something you buy in a la de da store
But the free in your ears and the world in your eyes.

Prise yourself away from the dusty thoughts of yesterday and look
This is today and a new kind of book has evolved.
That talks as it turns and revolves as it burns and the ash of the script..
..strips layers off your skin..and should you want to dive in..
..Go ahead.
The start of a thread of whatever you've ever read disappears
And the years drip away.
This here is the place and today it's your face on the pack
Get up on the stage and attack..
Lay them flat on their back with a salvo of sound
Bring it down to the ground.

A penny buys a pound..we'll be outlawed
They'll call us flawed characters..
..embarrassing chapters.

But let's capture that thought..write stuff and not like you've been taught..
..but be brazen and ***** to the 'Man' who tells you.."OH NO"
He just ain't got the rollocks to be in the show.
Let it go and you're lost
You'll be reading shinola that you bought at cost from the stall in the mall.

Be a pal..break the mould..don't do as you're told but do as you do
Look inside of the you..and bang it out..put it down on a sheet
Spill out your words to those people you meet..you've got one chance..
..which is no chance if you don't take it.
Get out there and
Make it
Happen.
When the world ends, which will probably be after a commercial break.

Not to put a damper on it, but we are not likely to know about it,
one minute we'll be here, the next, somewhere in the atmosphere and that's only if there's still an atmosphere to be here in.

Yes
times do look grim, the lights are growing dim and dim as in
the politicians that we've elected to lead us and where does that leave us?

back to the atmosphere
and
not one postcard saying
wish you here
A bit previous
as Arthur,
would have said
if he were still alive
and not as he is,
dead.

but that was Arthur,
always half into something
shady.
days that all melt into one sweet moment and that moment I met you, I knew.

It's been the best year and the next year will be the best year and the years ahead will be the best years
I can feel this truth in my heart.

Time will show us that we know us more and more, but nothing is more important than that one sweet moment when I met you and I knew.
Minstrels

Infra red
left for dead
finger on the trigger.

Watch them fall the short and taller stories will be told of
the Saracen and King Richards men,
infra red
left for dead
the crusade's in us all.
B+
B+
Catch 22?
you
couldn't catch a cold
and
when you can't catch your breath
you know that you're getting old.

Then the brain starts playing games
and you know this
when half a crown was two and six in Celsius
and Calculus was a professor in Tintin.
In one and out if the other is not blocked by wax,

You know that
personal hygiene is bankrupt when
your ears sprout potatoes,

'now't wrong that a dab of soap won't clear', me da' used to say

Steep is only that which we steep in
that which we keep inside.

An assortment if thoughts can be this on a morning in June when the bus comes too soon and yippee there really is room
on the top.

On to the platform.
ready to view?
I see a aeroplane
hanging in the sky
it doesn't seem to move
can you explain why?

heading to Poplar which used to be popular
until U went away.

and here's the asylum
( picture included)
denuded of lunatics
home now for the heretics
(***** those on benefits)

it's changing too quick,
and where do the sick go
or don't we help them
no more?

And they're already out
shaking their buckets,
money for this one
money for that one
I haven't got none,
where does it go
and who gets relief,
is charity the thief
in our midst?

We're not supposed
to ask awkward
questions like this.
let's
ask them anyway.

Armed police down
on Whitechapel road
( picture not included )
for security reasons
treason is trending
bridges need mending
and yet
who is it out there defending
the system?

five an hour at a push
who's driving this bus?
I'm at a loss
but
for certain it ain't
Sterling Moss.

Wednesday
bedless day
work today
and the guy
In front of me
earphones on
looks like a
nodding donkey
gone wrong.


If life is a pipe dream
why then
this smoke screen
what is it hiding?
Within these constant streams of thought
I still manage to paddle my boat which is surely
a feat of endurance worthy of Hyadal.

don't know who he is?
Google him,
I'm not here as a public information service
I am just trying to survive.

There's always an agenda
reasons behind the smile
they always want you to shift up a gear
and go the extra mile
well,
I've gone the extra mile and back
a waste of flamin' time

and
time consumes us with its flames
licks our faces
calls our names
ticks us off in the here and now
moves us on to the there and then
where the clock strikes done
when we will be.
Is it that time?
and if it is
why
aren't you asleep?

I can't keep
watch
around the clock
like clockwork

Ha
now
you're winding me up
so shut the *** up
sleep
or
I'll clock you one.

(Tha's an expression from me younger days)
Not guilty M' lud
When you've forgotten the way to get there
and which tube you need to go on,
work becomes the so long seeya later.

but it's better late than never unless you're in the altogether
and then it's better to get dressed before you go.

Boris is leading from the front
as if he's on a country hunt
and it's tally-**
and off we go again.
All we get is rhetoric,they're just gobbing off and I'm sick of it
we ought to send the ****** lot down the pit
I'm so frustrated I could spit.

They're bearing down on me in Downing street, building
high rise homes but
tearing down the street where I grew up,it
makes me want to throw up,show up with a deputation to
state the case for conservation,but they never listen to the likes
of me,
that's democracy,a bunch of scheming hypocrites sitting in their leather seats and tearing down my ****** streets,the ones where I grew up.

Well,
**** me, fracking's got to be the only saving grace I see,they say they'll frack far,far below,
ha,
so
them ******* at the top will be the first to know
when the whole world falls apart and
the last to bleedin' go.
These are the threads that I wear
they're
not Kings road or Carnaby,
I
don't want to be a wannabe.
I
just want to be me
wearing my gear.

Fashion?
don't look here
or expect to see a
catwalk King.

'Clothes maketh the man'
said me mam,
I give you my word that I never
heard her say it,

oh
pray it's not true,
off the rack is not me
and definitely not you,
I can't be doing with
'made to measure'
that's for caskets
and basket cases
(am I allowed to say that?)

I would sooner run naked
through the centre
of Portsmouth
than wear what patently
wouldn't suit me
and those 'nice boys from the navy'
could wave me
as I pass by on my way.
can't find the right stimulation
to escape from this tense
situation,
reputation precedes me
leads me
into a
stalemate.

they'll
over state the case
just to put me in my place
or to keep me deep in sleep
which is how they'd like to
sweep me underneath.

but hells teeth and chicken feed
I no longer need the aggro
so I'll pack my bags tonight
and go on home.
one,
and there has to be one

he begins

not the one that wins
we don't allow winning anymore
we only take part in a group,
there's no second, third or
even a last
we all come in first
we're all number one.

but one does not get a gold
because the gold's all been sold
along with the silver.

We participate for a certificate
which we hang on a wall
and what does that mean?

it means ****** all.

I still want one.
Even the Greenwich Meantime pips sound mournful on a Tuesday, the newsreader however seems full of beans, seems the BBC canteen serves up a good breakfast.

I ate my last doughnut which I
put away for a day such as this.
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