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Sure it's a mystery tour,
the destination is unknown
but
my ticket's been clipped
and I've just slipped
into
the last available seat.

Thursday
and it's not too cold
my fellow travelers
all look old
and
I've been told
to keep my thoughts
to myself.

Even as the crow flies
it's a long way to go
but
one has got to show
willing
so I'm willing myself on.

the tour guide is silent
just along for the ride?


End of the line.

That's it
there is no more
I've minded the door
'til
I'm blue in the face
closed the gap and
shut my trap
keeping my thoughts
to myself.
Put 'em up,
put 'em up"
Dorothy told him to
shut the *** up,

oh yes!
Dorothy had a mouth on her
like a Southend sewer
not that I knew her
or ' the lion, the witch and
the wardrobe'
which is,
an entirely different story
but
it was made into a movie
so
forgive me for getting mixed up

It's that age thing
every time I hear the bells ring
I think I'm back at school
and playtime's over.

Now
where was I?
ah!
Yes,
Boxing Day,

'Put 'em up'
We'd have been there by now if there was where they said it would be,
a possible reason is that, there, is expanding at the same rate as the universe or
there, is not there at all and we've been fooled.

seems like it always seems like and it always seems like that.

Don't worry about me
I'm getting on a bit
although
I worry that
I'm getting off on it
Racing down this road of uncertainty
and it's the road I suppose
that was meant for me.

It used to be
that I was sure
and then
somewhere
probably
when I didn't take a dare
or started to care
the uncertainty
crept in

now it's frightening.

when I speed up I want to slow down
and speed up again and slow down
because and
why?

IT'S
not like I'll die or anything,

expiration dates are not the
kind of dates I need.

and there's the uncertainty
nagging away at me
and what do I do?
I write poetry
yeah,
really
or
almost
verse.
I am the jumbling
the mumbling man
escaping gas of thoughts that pass into the night.
I burn the midnight sun that oils the gatling gun that chats incessantly and I believe that this is me.
I am conquistador
Quixote wanting more
I am the situation needing close examination somewhat of an exclamation mark
I am the dark.
Being lazy only pays the going rate
but once you get the go in you
there's nothing that you cannot do.

If
motivation's just a magic trick,
it's slick, but nonetheless
it's still a trick,

you have to pick your moments
to facilitate those movements
that you want to make
and
once you've made them
you're
on the way.
Nay
nay and thrice he says nay
it cannot be Monday today.

The bard for all his Shakespearian wit
couldn't dream up this kind of ****
but it's true
blue with the cold and now I've
been told
it's Monday.

And it's raining
which is a pain in
the **** as well.
I know,
you just woke and thought misery
but happily
I'm here to tell you,
not so.

Did you win the lottery?
if you did
please
DM me
I have an exciting investment
opportunity.

Wednesday
and you are a ray
of sunshine
don't forget that.
Either it's right,
right?
or it's not right,
right?

The light of my faith has been dimmed
by
the banks that have skimmed
money off the top

cream of the crop
they are not,
right?

the system is rigged.

We are
tied by a cord to the
means test and the
selection board
and that's not right,
right?
When I’m cold and she holds me
and the heat of her runs through me
and when I’m hot, she’s a fan
and always there to cool me.
Some of them would take your life while others
make your life a better place and
to realise that friends are all it takes and
if you'll take a tip from me
and make friends every time you see
a stranger looking for the same who may be
pleasantly surprised that there are more who've realised
that friends are all we get,be friends before this life we have
decides to end.

On love,
I could say an awful lot but will not,suffice
that's the one friend who lives in the heart
and we all have one of them.

The way is clear,the road is long have friends they make the song seem sweet,to travel lonely on a street is no travelling at all,have a friend to call on you,to call upon,one more sweet song,one less lonely road,less of a load to carry on your own as you wander home.
Ted' is sat on the bed,
I think
there must be straw in his head
and he might have cloth ears too

anyway
he's watching me with his
glass marble eyes
I wait, but he's got nothing
to say,

at times like these times
everyone needs a Ted',
someone who'll listen and
pass no remarks on what's
being said.

Teddy is even older than me
he must be wiser too.
We'll all be born again
only to be torn out
again
from the book of
stories,

I was toying with the idea of history but it could be herstory or even theirstory,
a mystory, bi-story, maybe a hightowerblockstory,
but
I think the book of stories covers everything
Thought I might wake with
something more than bellyache,but
No,
Today the only way I go is
down.

London,
what a dreary town,
what kind of place is this to be?
this whirlpool of woe is
a mistral of misery.

Smoking now,
smoking,
how I wish the flames would bite,
ignite and in the inferno, would be
somewhere
where I'd go
quite
willingly.
Starting to get ready for round flamin' three,
the first thing is to sleep which is no mean feat
the second is to hear the alarm clock ring,
and then
it's seconds away and into the fray
which for argument's sake we'll call
Wednesday.

if only there was a spell to cast Wednesday
down into hell,
well, maybe not hell,
but far enough away so that it wouldn't come back
in a Month of Sundays.
Two newspapers
one book
look some more,
Mind the gap
opening door.

on the Central line
having a fine old time

coats with spots
scarves with dots
and I've got lots
to ponder on.

I've got a feeling
that this tube is going
to Ealing,
but
I am not.
Tgif. #overdosingontheweek
Open Plan
what does it mean?

It's a scam,
builders
build less interior
for the ulterior motive
of making more profit.

And yet we gave it a try,
sigh.

I need walls,
walls to climb on
walls to hide on
walls in front of
walls behind me
all I want to see are
walls
and not forgetting what I always do
I need walls to break down and
get to you

Yeah
on second thoughts
Open plan
might maketh me
the man.
there's always the better idea that's no better idea than the last idea that was a good idea, I have an idea that may be so or so I tell myself.
Paracetamol are what you take for a headache,
I've got one of those, a headache, not a Paracetamol
because I have two of those.

Eyes strain maybe
or the constant rain
maybe
or it could be me
maybe
thinking too heavily.

And maybe you think I'm a wimp

but the chemist's the **** and he
pimped me the pills
and he'll **** me some more
if I pay.
What the **** am I working for?
minimum wage
maybe some more
but that all depends on
if your face fits or not.

There's an awful lot to say
and
it will most definitely come out
one day
until then
this pen
is mute
What side's your bread buttered on and does it really matter?
If it's buttered at all then you can think yourself lucky.

We grew up on margarine, oilcloth for a tablecloth and paraffin for the lamp we lit to keep the damp at bay.

What you've got today is Shangri La not Shanghai Lil and still you want to moan.

I've grown accustomed to the making do it's what you need to try,
add it to the list of 'fifty things to do before I die'

I'm happy that it's Friday and my heart's still going strong.
I'm glad that I'm still still around to baffle and confound those experts with their expertise who predicted with some certainty my lifestyle would attract disease like a magnet attracts iron.
but
don't I waffle on and on
and half the day already gone
I'm going too
still making do
making the most
of margarine
on toast.
oddments on the oddities of life
We were never in sepia
but the scarier it gets,
the creepier it will become
and the yellowing of your skin
is due to the lack of Sun.

We all look like old photographs
the ones in well-loved albums
the ones that look like we had fun
sometime
somewhere
in the Sun.

Morbid?
blame
Covid

nnnnnnineteen.
Re-runs of a rerun
war has been done to death

seen it all on the BBC, ITV and Channel Four

and I believe that it's a manufactured industry
making more and more re-runs of a war.

And wth these
there is no let up
they just get up
and kick off
as and when,

what is really going on?
No one in their right mind would walk through the wilderness, no, they'd avoid it,

imagine the snakes snaking and the wolves taking you in, even thinking you were a little bit thin, but you'd do for a snack, oh yes, everything out there will attack you and them bears, yes, them bears will track you and I don't mean GPS.

Jeeez it's downright scary
birds of prey waiting to devour me
and those things with stripes
thinking I'm ripe for the ****.

But I will not give way to my fears
nor fall prey to the laughter of my peers
I shall instead stay indoors watching
Attenborough
with a couple of beers.
4 hours later they turn up
which is a turn up for the books,
when dear daughter and Co read this
they'll be giving me ***** looks

which might turn up sooner
than they did.

Still
one cannot complain
unless you're grumpy
like me
and another thing
they'll be getting
no ****** tea.

Nice to see them though
even if their watches do run slow.

I could have gone fishin'
On a boat up the Tyne
a favourite river of mine

oil slicks and old shields.

The south side
a bit wide of Whitley bay
some say
the rough side
Is where I guide
her in

thirty seven feet
mahogany timber
a tall ship
slipping fast into dock.

Going home into port
shirt and shorts
a tan from the maze
of places I've been


this gypsy boy and
his
'Ocean Queen
sleek and lean
lean into the wind
together.
A controlling collective
A Knesset of knaves
Mobile wrecking ***** and as the
sledgehammer falls,
so do the children in a wilderness,
'Cry Havoc'
it mocks them.
The invisible men,wolves at the door,
knocking them down and knocking some more,
knocking on knocks down
the victims of war.
Cracks in the iris which allow tears to form patterns and fall
lost on pavements to be forgotten.

we do it anyway because it's the way we are.

Can you love me? he said,
to the crowd down below
the answer came presently
so?

and what does it tell me about anything really?

I wasn't there to dry his feet with my hair.
Doubting Thomas
your eyes are upon us,
we can see your shame.

And Judas Iscariot
who lived it
and carried it,
no one to blame
but himself.
In the afterlife
which comes after life
according to the big book,
I'm going to take some time
to take a look at coming back,
but
not as Julius Caesar
he's been done
nor as Genghis Khan,

I might come back and be myself
an ordinary man.
Thou Shalt Not,
and that was it
but not what?
not a whatnot
because I know what that is
but not what?
I'm not sure of.

Everything confuses
when it chooses.

Anyway
I heeded the message
and it leadeth me not
into temptation
but temptation funnily enough
is
what I got

Thou Shalt Not,
became redundant
and I already know
how that feels.
one for America.

'jimmy crack corn
and I don't care..'
because
it's Friday,

yaaay
It's something man made to destroy something man made,
some I know will swim against the tide,
but I'll give it a go and go with the flow.

If it works it works and if it don't it won't.

there are millions like me who are waiting to see
and at the same time wanting to be in the queue,
you may be one of them.
It hardly matters to the man of letters
if you hear him,
he
wins anyway, ten to one
on the track today and
what way do you matter
anyway?

Twenty-one thousand four hundred and nine
and what a waste of my precious time counting them in
let us begin
but we never end
send me a Kelly,
machine gun
some jelly
and blow, but
we know
men and letters
much better than I
live to let die
and I ask you why we
do
I ask
but you
never answer me.

In this trophy room
groomed and dressed
wall mountings are best
although Tigger carpets
the floor,
I want more than
a glimpse,
the reality limps
away from me
I abscond
fragile into
my own fantasy,
the man of letters knows better
and says nothing.
A tiger lily crept up on me and bit my arm.
I tried to calm it down by using my tin of Tiger Balm.
Did it work?
No such luck.
I'm going to give up gardening and go on Safari.
Fe fi fo
hum
some times it's fun
or fum
but today it is hum,
wonder why?

Giants have to get by
by being remembered
in cheesy fairy stories
which bores me rigid.

and being tall has its pitfalls
it's not all peaches and golden eggs,
****** beanstalks play havoc with
my legs
and don't get me started on my back
or
that blasted Jack,
All the propane
the methane
the gasolene and
butane,

if
petroleum controlling us,
who's controlling it?
and who've ya got to get
along with
to get a little give?
I throw some clothes on
she throws knives,

the circus and
performers wives.
What are the odds?
one,
ten,
a million
ten billion to one?
and yet we go on with life,
with living,

who's giving these odds?

We make rods for our backs
throwing wooden ***** into
round holes
like a fairground attraction
watching horses move along
predetermined tracks
and we hope to win
a prize.

Eyes on the totaliser
a surprise a minute

if you can prise
a second from the mouth
of a clown
you'll be lucky.
I am
' cream crackered '
and ready for the
knackers yard,
today's been hard
and unduly so.

I need to move on
pack up my bags
and go.

But I'm always waiting
to see what's around
the corner,
subsequently
I never move at all.,

to rise out of this funk
I need to dump all the junk,

holding on
and when you don't want
to let go,
you don't go.

The internal struggle,
the doubts that we juggle
as if
we're all circus performers.

Clowns that sleepwalk into
an early grave and
no one can save them.
...and now
for your
disappointment
entertainment.
oh
wait a moment,
it's
not for you at all.

and as it happens
which happens all the time
I'm back and tied to the yoke
but it's fine,
I was getting wearier not working
than I ever did when I was.

if there's still life in the old goat
there is still hope.
Underneath the cardboard sheets
crashed down on the concrete streets,
the heart still beats
the mind engages
the mouth rages
at the injustice done

for some who do not see
that could have been you
it used to be me.

Summer arrives.

warmer now
no need for the duvet
of paper mache,
but the streets are still concrete
and living is hard.
I always thought that taramasalata was a Greek way of saying,
bye, see you tomorrow.

nothing to do with this, though it could have been because I've seen the writing on various walls, nefarious spellings by the
know it alls who know ****** all but what the media feed them.

By the way, if you're expecting this piece to go somewhere, you're sadly mistaken, somewhere was taken away to somewhere I know nothing about,

I'll be taken away too by the white coat army when they find out I'm batshit barmy but they haven't found out yet.
I often cut myself on
'Occam's razor' and
in the future I'll be sure to
burn myself by listening in
on
Occams Laser
which
is self evident,
but not to me

I
in space
looking for
the easiest place
to park a star.

Where the light is
the night is not,
of that
I used to be sure,
but
Monsters
cured me of the notion
that bumps and grinds
are equal to devotion,

just going through the
motions
like the river to the
oceans and
I drown
each time I see
'Occam's razor'
flash
before me,

The solution and the easy way
is take one day at a time
until time disowns me
and then
I'll complain all the way
to the cemetery.
You want to connect but the wiring is wrong and though you long for the day that the fault is corrected you do nothing to make things possible,
all things considered when you've considered all things and find no one to blame but yourself,
you take the stamp album off the shelf and realise no one is coming to see your collection.
Time subtracts from us
that which is dear to us,
it shows little mercy.
just thinking aloud
Friday and
it's a cold one
I'm
trying to get four jumpers on
over three shirts and a vest.  

I could have stayed indoors
tucked up in my nest
I should not have got out
of the bed, but I did
I suppose it's for the best.


Blue would be the colour
that suggests itself to me
blue lips everywhere I look
blue
all I can see

and the underground is quiet today
almost
as if the drop in temperature has
stolen its voice away.

Heading up to 'Pret'
I bet the chocolate's
nice and hot,
then off to Soho Square
to do a spot of work

if it's still as chill when evening
falls
you might be jolly decking your halls
but
I'll see pawnbrokers covering their *****
and
I'll be staying in.
The cathedrals in the minds of man where they scheme and plan,
where they pray the length of the day and rave at night,, the cathedral that's kept out of sight, we have built our own and some come to call it home, some want to demolish, some want to polish the dust within, some want to bust out and some want some more, but whatever it's built for it's there and will stay slowly sinking as the day slowly goes on its way.
funny thing about Kites
you don't have to fly one
they
can fly by themselves.
When you think you might tank
when walking the plank
you're probably right.

We're all
buccaneers
or
privateers
with an eye patch
to catch the attention
of
maidens
or
mermaids.

Those ladies from Tortuga
could **** ya
and you'd be happy that they
looked your way.
It detonates
the thunder of it reverberates
grates on my nerves
resonating within.
The explosion corrodes me
boding nought but ill
still
I ignite.
Why fight the inevitable,why not just stay in the bubble and keep out of trouble?
It detonates.
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