****** into the vortex where nothing protects you
and where emotions direct you at will.

And just when I think
I've had my fill of the spin
tried so hard to get out,
I am ****** right back in.

The plus side besides me is the lady
who loves me,
the girl with pearl set
that sets in my eyes.

So I chill and
emotions will
move me
to
tell her
without her
I'd freeze.

There's no romance to living under the stars
no songs were written for you.

Cold and damp and they'll call you a *****
though you haven't walked far for a while.

and while we're on the subject
they'll say there is no prospect
of anything changing soon.

Under the moon, they may be,
but inside the man is a baby
crying for help.

( it wasn't me )

well,
if we're sinking
at least the water
will be warm.

At the top of the hill where the stillness crowds me
I can see silence,
the echoes of yesterday somewhere inside me
vie to escape.
There is a slice of this place which has sliced into a space in my heart,
I am heavy with fate,
lightheaded I wait as if I am on a first date and I tremble,anticipate.

The arrival surprises me,supersizes me
I am giant,
like the cosmos reliant on time,I become me and the mine is I see, what is already there,
I will be
part of the silence
another star in the shining.

Einstein drinks a glass with me and
I dine on immortality
I need nothing more to comfort me
all mass and energy
released,
free.

I could, of course, do the Lambeth Walk
two steps,
quick steps,
lick my wounds and come out fighting.
If,
I get the backlighting right, but
on the stage age is no barrier
to foolishness.

I waltz with giraffes which get
a few laughs and
inside me
the hyena dies slow.

The show must go on and so
into the spot,
lit up and shot dead
well read by the audience,
another poor performance but
I could always of course, do
the Lambeth walk.

She reaches a peak
and seeks
a safety net
in me.

Walking into Monday
head-on
the weekend has left me
and gone,
waiting for the car crash
to come
walking into Monday
head-on.

there's a strong smell of garlic,
to ward off the vampires?

She wears a cross,
I guess looking cross
has no effect.
and
It's quiet this morning
vacant seats match the faces
of people with places to go.

I too
am going somewhere,
but not where you'd expect,

the day like the cross
has little effect
on my final destination.

I start to read my
autobiography
the last chapter's
unwritten
but
that's up to me,
fighting off vampires
traveling on the
Jubilee.

This kaleidoscope street where I stand disjointed,unique,
I am
the ever changing landscape and shaping and colour of man.

On the road to the sun where the images run
and the colours slip into the sky,
my eyes spin from blue and then red into green,a traffic like dream
in a scene from a movie,
it moves me.

Amber sits on the back burner with Turner,
waiting for ships to come in.

Each colour pulls me
this way and that way, down lanes through a bright day in grey clouds,
of roof slate,
I could wait and decide to stop or to ride on,but I have relied on the colours for so long,it would be wrong to tarry and so I marry the pinks and different hues of these inks and go on.

In the end we all blend
there's no secret to this,
we each have a kiss to give
but many colours in life to live
I live to the full,
come colour and pull me,
fulfill this
picturesque need in me,
feed to me pigments in
figments of my own
portraiture.

I am here
in this place,
my time and space to see.

There is more than can be seen by eyes
which blue, underneath the earth grey skies
can take a lifeline,seeing only time and space and
nothing of the place surveyed.

In the grave
in the black
no crack of light
no sight at all for those
who never saw before, see
now, that the night wore many
different stars upon its face,
another space in time
a place to rest and look.

I am here and in this time
I see
beyond the tracking of the line
and I am fine with
that.

Sleep,
being the weakest link makes me think I'll stay awake
but staying awake is not much fun unless of course you're with someone
who stays awake with you.

Insufficient funds.

I do not close my eyes for fear, I'll miss a single moment of you being near and frightened that you'll leave, I hardly dare to breathe at times
and at times I breathe these silent rhymes that sometimes do not rhyme at all but often do.
scared that you would fall asleep and leave me to keep watch,
I,
who shudder at the night and certain that I'd never be as good as what you think I'd be,take fright and hide in bright sunlight with open eyes behind closed doors and on the floor of a new day would try to wake you,hear you say,
'I never fell asleep'

But I knew you'd never keep awake
you've never felt the breaking of another day as you slept the night away and remained in one piece,at peace with all and everything
but I have listened to the dawn sing and what worries do those early birds carry upon their wings as clawing through the noisy air they flitter,fratter everywhere,
do I really care?
I do not
I have enough set on my plate
I carry such a lonely weight and I must stay awake to see another night of history slide slowly into memory.
The weakest link is never what you think
that's if you think about these things
I do
that's all I do
but wishing it away
would not help me sleep like you
No,
that would never do.

I must be true to my belief that sleep would bring me untold grief and so I stay awake and break into another day where night would only live to say
I'll see you in
your dreams.

To be one of them, to
become an automaton
give the ultimatum
and
flick the switch.

Not for nothing is
hate an anagram of heat.

There are no yes men here.

Everything aches,
but mostly the heart
when you want to be
but
are no longer a part
of the conversation.

just cauterise my eyes
so I can't see the lies
that trip over your tongue.

Just because the wind's blowing and the sirens are going doesn't mean you know what's coming next.

Jesu'
he's the one who
makes miracles,
sends greetings
and disciples
to reinforce
the message.

I get it
whatever
it is, but I say things like that
because I can't keep my trap shut.

Rambling?
you've been a fellow traveler
between the parallel lines
that appear,

you've seen the year passing through
the eye of the camel
and gone quietly with it
and you get it
too.
or do you?

This could be somebody's dream I've been in

Daffodils in December.

The fog melted away as the sun began  to warm my day
it was Wednesday,

Still full of the dream and keen to dream on
I stayed where I was and the day moved on.

But because a but is but a part of it
I awoke on the train,

Explaining planes.

Surrounded and the oxygen's tainted
pressed from all sides
can't run
can't hide

the young girl with eyes like saucers offers me a seat and of course I decline

a gentleman always defers.

I'm nodding off again to dream on again,
not a good plan.

keeping my wits about me while an imaginary friend shouts to me
losing the plot which in my case is not really a lot to lose.

And now the rain falls over the 'rainbow bridge'


How delightful to see you, said someone
charmed, I'm sure, said I.

( that may have been in your dream )

It's not real.

the dream carries on without the cast
the last of the last lingers, licks his fingers and flicks the page.

Green Park.

on the central line I think it could be pink and no one would be any the wiser.

She
moves her
hands around my face,
in her
I see my
time
passing.

It quickens
it slows,
time knows
to go at its
own pace.

On the production line a product of the time
and a time for busy bees
with beehive hairdo's and the permanent wave
not many dreadlocks
but that's something I'll save for a rainy day
I like to play my fingers through them
and when she gets a bit naughty and the temps reached about forty
well, things go on
but that's not for on the production line
a time and a place for many things
and she brings me most
then cooks me a meal,
sometimes I feel like a king
and to her who would love me
I bring but a man
with faults and defaults she can discover at will and she will.
and still I remain like a tomato ketchup stain on her dress
She, under duress tells me later
I wait on her shift at the factory but it finishes and me I'm still here
waiting to see her.

Her life is her own and I own none of it
not a drop or a little bit and as she has so often said,
'you can get that idea right out of you head'
She is strong and I long for her
She is weak and I comfort her
but these things she does for me
I wait and see what the next instalment will be
her and me
me and her
on the production line where love isn't fair nor is meant to be
it's the economy
got to blame it on something and that seems about right
got to make light of it and that does not
what she has and she has an awful lot
is what I haven't got
and maybe never will
and that's another will I can't fight
and another something that isn't quite right.

Life goes on and we get old
and maybe we never get to hold what we wish for
maybe that's not the way
perhaps we'll always have to fight for our day in the sun
or pick up the gun and demand it or take it by force
and of course as a pacifist
I would desist from taking that step
which is one step away
from the hangman.

Time never sits
always stands
constantly waving its wavering hands
and it brings me relief
also fills me with grief
and a terrible belief that it's waiting for me.

Time has a price
it's not free
wait and see what you pay
for tomorrow
today.

Time will throw you a rope and then hang you with hope
for more time
and time has its laugh it's a gas
until you pass the point where the two hand meet and you meet the great clockmaker who in time is going to take you for a walk.
There is silence in the talk of time, just whispers and you know that time's not mine or yours
a little sign
one little tick a bit of sickness,the thickness of
time catches in your throat and feeling just a little hot
time waits but time is all you've got
and then there is no time at all.

Autumn sunset
douse me in red fire
let me not forget
the time.

Don't be tempted to search for what isn't there,
although what isn't there's everywhere.

She wore natural selection like that gown of perfection,
an evolutionary dress.,
and designs to impress take some time.
It took millions of years,out on limbs,crashing gears
to get to her state.
But you wouldn't wait
so you fake up with make up and wake up to take up your place.
We are first in the queue when evolution's due,
please take your seat.
One thing you won't beat is nature's feat,
so fete it and wait it out.

Guess what?
I woke up and not hungover
probably because
I stayed home last night
and didn't spend it hanging over the bar with the other flies.

I might stay home again tonight,

ah
the superiority of sobriety has got to me,
next thing you know
I'll be down the temperance hall
which
as far as I know,
is next door to ****** all

drinking tapioca tea or something similar.

What the...?
woke up and it's winter
not a glint from or a glimpse
of the sun
the sum total being
I'm staying in bed.

Not rising for coffee
nor to be fed
not playing anymore
just staying in bed.

I can put up with a lot of things
but winter brings much more
like
Jack Frost scratching patterns on
the windows
and the door is always closed
and it's cold and damp
and I get cramp
and
and
and I can't think of another and.

Wake me in July when the sky is
blue and clear
two sugars in my coffee
I'll be here
'cause I ain't moving yet.

I am of the mind that there's
a mindset set
and it's an invitation only game.

There are too many strands
and as the cat's cradle stands
it's likely to fall.

Y'all out there watching this
ringing your bell
singing your own song
but
you'll miss us
when we've gone.

Sat quietly
just
my iPhone and me
once more on the Jubilee,
she
and by she I mean
the girl sat next to me
is fidgeting
which is getting in under
my skin.

Adidas man with the green hair
and fake tan,
bearded boy drops his phone
it's a ploy
fidget girl picks it up
and the next thing I hear
is
' fancy a cup of tea?,
let's jump out at
Bermondsey'

and off they go.

I made that up,
Wednesday is a slow day
for
people watching.

Everyone wants to fit in
except me
I want to be the square peg
in a rounder hole or
the Maypole in June.

I don't want to be a box that's ticked
a switch that's clicked
a brick in the wall,
fitting in
is not the be all and end all
fitting in means ****** all
it's
the standing out
that counts.

Secrets have a
habit of
falling from
mouths.

If
you want to keep
a secret,
keep your mouth
shut.

Outside it's wet, still
raining,
and I'm not getting up
until the Sun
comes through
and the sky is blue
when it's at least
ten o-clock
and the ****'s given
up crowing.

slowing down the tempo
it's nice to know
the rain
is good for something.

Just returned to what was the Wild West or so it seemed to me 10 years ago, now it's only what it was, a business park, underutilised, but I noticed the security in passing and that's still on the button, I half expected tumbleweed to come a blowin' down the road, I felt only the breeze blowing through old memories.

Loose off your arrow
it will strike me and
the distance between us
will narrow.

A match to be made,
a light
in this shade
loose off your arrow
and come.

So early,
even
earlier than the bird

worms have to live too.

At the last stop, some
people popped on
some popped off,

I'm here for the duration
revisiting and reviewing
every station along the way.

It pays to like some days
and Thursday's no different
but
liking doesn't pay too well.

Cassiopeia in an urn,
a Greek and
each
seek in their turn
a star
afar,
and who's to say that
if a star should have its way it
wouldn't send a fire to burn
Cassiopeia,
in an urn.

Cassiopeia rules the sky
men may try and many cry,
but few have seen
the naked beauty of
this
Northern Queen.

I'm a pushover for a pullover
especially if it's made of wool,
cardigans are okay but a bit
Val Doonigan or Crosby for me,
do I dare to wear them?

they might make me look old
to the younger generation

Some would dynamite daylight
to disintegrate into midnight
and disappear without trace

Memories race to a song,
..'let's face the music and dance..'

and time plays the tune knowing that
soon we'll all get the beat.

Back in the line of a long line of lines and moving along as each space brings me on to the end
dynamite
might be worth a go
I'd get where I'm going
but one is never to know
when the choices are many
and the buttons are few
what to do.

Disappearance becomes an
irrelevance to the 'disappeared'
it just is
and I just am
when monochronomous
becomes an obvious
and you see it.

If a chain is twenty two yards
which it may be in old money
it's funny that the chain around
his neck looks so tight
but
that's just more dynamite
to blow my mind.

Lady painting her lips with an
ecstatic shade of blue

and a suitcase suitably placed
by the door,
someone's going on a trip?
I'm watching her lipstick
amazed at the art in it.

At the other end of the carriage
a hand grasping the upright,
reminds me of the flag,
daylight
on Iwo Jima

and as suddenly the auras rush
in on me
colours that blind me
perhaps
ecstasy in blue is the new
rhapsody.

When the night walked in and silently crept up through the cracks in my door
and I, feeling fragile could not take any more of this pain,
slept again
to walk in my dream time  into the wind that roared in my ears and the rain that poured over me and the fears that no amount of scrubbing would fade.

You made light of it in the morning when I woke,
spoke non too delicately of my inability to converse or commune ,even saying that I would be the architect of my own ****** doom and that I should be happy to have a friend such as you, who in your own words is a boon to a man like me,who can never be free from the eclipses of the past.

and at last there is something to be sure,I can see
that the evening before is still waving at me.
Set me free
let me be unchained from this bond,unbound I could find what it is to be found if it's there
is it there?
Where would I look if it's not?

I have got a village in my chest made of sandstone and they call it a heart
but as it crumbles away
though I grub in the dirt and get dirt in my nails
I can't say that I'll save it from fading
into the calico sails on a ship that will sink in the tears of my eyes.

No surprise then
that I do not converse or commune with other men
but when I am free we will see how it goes
until then, how long I am bound is anyone's guess
unless somebody out there listening
knows.

It's all getting a bit 'same'
same this
same that
same as it always is,
ever was,
it's a
shame same doesn't change. but
same stays the same even when it does.

Wonders in delirium
which stars are my lucky stars?
he wants to thank them personally,

personally
I think the medication's not holding
him
they need to up the voltage or increase
the dosage.

A tangerine screen around the tangerine sun as it slips inexorably into its bed.
I read in a book, a fortune of years spent ago that,
'so it is so'
now I know what it means

A dollar to a dime
I do it
time
after time and
dine alone.

On my own is not too bad
a bit of time for reflection or
does that sound too sad?

Cant stay focused on the goal
not while I see fairies
dancing 'round the Maypole

the traffic's heavy on my mind tonight
I might have to slow down
or take Dexedrine,
took them before
one
long
long and longer time to
be lost in the dream.

Potcheen could be the cure
but there's fewer leprechauns
about today than there ever was
before,
a bit like Dexedrine
but not the same as
the dream or
Poteen.

She slipped up behind him and
planted a kiss on his cheek.
Didn't seek my approval
removal,
almost as if I did not exist.
I wish it was me that she
kissed
wish that she'd creep up on me
wish I could see
what I was
doing
wrong.

Interested parties
seldom throw
interesting parties

I throw caution to
the wind
and
join the circus.

Back at the back of the running dog pack and
there's no looking back in the pack.

I growl my resistance to change and
put distance between us.

We eat on the go because nothing can slow us from reaching the destination we chose, but not one dog of us knows where that destination might be.

I am back, but I may as well pack up my bags
and go back to wherever
it was that I came from.

When no one knows where we are going and the road is so long how can it be wrong to make right and turn risk into a brisk walk away.

Back to the pack through the cranks and the ranks of the bulldogs, into the wheels and the cogs of machine driven scenery,
how green are we
that we couldn't see the wood for the barking?
How could we not know that mad dogs only go to the pound?

I stick around for a while, but my heart isn't in it
If there's a collar
I wear it?
but swear it's
for the lady
to choose.

What is a day
but an addition to time.

Lots to pack in
to the hours
let's begin
and
play.

Canning Town
in London Town
and I'm down
on the
underground,

there's a breeze
that's tickling my knees
I want to say,
please
don't stop.

Heads are bowed
I think they're all praying,

the young man with grey in
his hair
should try Grecian 2000,
( that's a registered trade mark,
but it will make his hair dark )

the silver haired lady
sat next to the shady looking
guy
gives me the eye,
now
that doesn't happen every day.

but
I got so excited
I nearly alighted
at the wrong
station.

It only looks like we mean but looks are?
and then I get stuck because what is a look
and what does it mean?

Art Deco does things to me,

twentieth century?
mention me to
Clarice  

I can't come to terms with germs
remember ' Monk?'
sunk without a trace
his final case
was himself.

"It's a jungle out there"

Wednesday brings a ray of sun
in the weak light
we pray
for Friday to come

I hate 5am
nothing stirs
not me
not the spoon in the tea
nothing
but
it's not 5am for long

that's what looks are
I mean
maybe.

Clutching at straws

People you may know
that I do know
I don't know
and
what's on your mind?

Find a sacrificial lamb
and blam,
blah, blah
how's it going so far?

The political chicanery
rains on me,
I need a hat
funny that
Facebook won't
supply one.

Sign in for free
it always will be.

Dear David Cameron,
get your glasses on and read what follows on.

We need,
a minister for happy hearts another one for brand new starts,one for kisses,one for wishes and a Minister to wash the dinner dishes.

Also,
as you may know,
we need a minister for mundanities an under secretary of profanities,a watching brief to watch the briefs and a diplomat to let me see some of that.

We may require,
and I think we will, a standing committee to sit quite still,most importantly I think you'll see is,we need a ministry of ministers to minister to the ministers in a private capacity.

That's all for now,please think of how, we can attain a ministry for those insane.

I leave it all to you and know that you will try your best

all the best.
j

The whistle blew
the footplate crew
released the steam.

Engines rolled over
the rolling track
and looking back
I rolled too.