When my will has won
and every pennant I fly
signifies
one more penance
done

it may be and I might
be
some time in the making,

the bookies are taking
ante post bets

I never met a poor bookmaker
don't be fooled
don't let them take your
money.

They said that every day spent
in quarantine with your wife
equates
to seven years of a husbands life,

If my wife sees this
it'll be another life that I've lost
and I'm up to number seven already.

Older
yet the older I get
the younger I feel.
I peel away time because
I feel that it's mine to do with
as I wish.

If I close my eyes real tight and imagine
the night is as young as I feel,
and this day is as real as it can possibly get,
older yet
set in my ways and only as young as the
length of my days.
I go on
getting older.

Wondering
should I discard this post?
but that's just me playing host
to my insecurities

Lots of people have fringes
most of them lunatic
some of them Edinburgh
and for the songsters
some in a Surrey
I'm in no hurry to join them.

I'm waiting
for the rain to stop
and wondering (again)
what
ammunition does a rainbow use?

Old music on a new radio
I ought to demand a refund

The dial is set to 1968 though
so
I'll just listen
in silence
which makes a change
and
that's what she tells me.

These young kids
look for but don't get it
thinking
Netflix,
boosting
kicks from butane,
got no patination
not old enough

but the last generation
seen it and
deem it
reprehensible
that secondary modern education
fails them because now they
think they're sensible

brawling on Friday night
crawling home
Saturday morning, they
have razors to shave with
high street banks they
can save with
but nothing to give them a clue.

I'm through with this ****
old enough now to sit out my days
in a tobacco filled haze and
gaze at nights full of stardust
because
somebody must
before it all disappears.

It's funny how tragedy
attracts me
not funny haha
but funny
bizarre

the weird cases
distraught faces
distract me
and this affects me,

perversely I seem to thrive
on human misery
and strive for
the ultimate
(dystrophy)

It's a burden
carrying a *******
for the big one,
Armageddon

but
when the World goes tilt
I'll have my hand in it up
to the hilt.

funny haha?
but only funny so
far
and then it gets spiteful

shamefully
I have to admit that I'm more than a bit
off key

tragedy does that to
people like me.

It can all seem so far away
when
close is just a game we play
for comfort.

What's the alternative?
dragging me back to
the **** and a ten pack
doesn't cut it,
I run that bit through
the memory banks and
say
thanks but no thanks
flood the tanks and
submerge

Always best not to submit
to an urge where urgency
is or probably could be
a major catastrophe.

Carrying on and surfing the
curve ball
putting some more time in
building the wall
between now and then,
remembering how
now and again
seems
so far away.

Had we but known, would we have have tied all of our dreams
to a wind made from stone
that whipped in and out of our lives to torment
would we have been content
to idle away
to waste every day in the hope there was more?

And who was there
who spoke out
who shouted this is not fair
where is that voice now?

How and why we did not listen confounds me
astounds me but really
I should not be surprised
for our eyes were held fast by that which could not last
but had the power to ******
in the end we became transfixed
crucified and what good were eyes then.

Men, call us men for that's what we were
and does it matter if we cannot share
a table together?

Those that dream and those that 'Do',
One must starve the other wins through
which one are you?

You and me on an island that stretches down to the shore,
sat watching the seamless sea on a dreamless night
who could have wanted for more?

and the echoes come back on the waves that come in.

Perhaps you're only seeing what it is they want you too,
which is you
looking at you through a viewfinder wishing it was a rangefinder,
thinking it would be kinder to finish it
but wishing it doesn't work well.

I could be in the driving seat
beating the drum
making those wheels hum
and the engine purr
but
'could be' isn't fair either.

They get a medal for doing *** all
we get *** all for doing *** all
there is no justice
it's just us
fighting
for our lives.

There were other fishermen afloat on the sea
that stormy day by Galilee and they came up empty
no fish for their nets

Everyone forgets that every deed has a consequence
a reaction that few of us bank on and even fewer rely on, but they had relied on a catch,
they were
never a match for the prophet of man.

So for them
no fish for the pan

I wonder if they ever believed or were rather relieved when he'd upped oars and gone,

the bakers felt the same
five loaves of bread and feeding so many
not any wonder that they then wondered how much did it take,
how many more loaves would they have to bake before the bottom dropped out of the market.

The man had his fans though
who'd go through hell and high water
to be taught a new meaning.

This is a crutch
a much needed story
often repeated
hated or
deleted
signed with blood
with love
defiance?

I give it credence
we all have to have something to hold onto,
to make sense of it all.

Religion
organised?
It'd never do
too many heretics
lunatics in the pulpits that
want to pull it to pieces.

Faith
you can't but try
can't buy it
better believe it
or
leave it alone.

Nobody's sure anymore about what we felt sure of before we weren't sure and I am not sure anyway.

But
we built our houses from straw
spit and sawdusted the floor
what were we waiting for?
absolution?

absolutely?
well
Pan played the pipes like a flute
he
was a ram of a man,
are you sure of me now?

Subtract from the menu
the ladies that can do and
those who don't want to,
add
men to the equations
plus
one ounce of
raisins
pop in the oven and
serve piping hot.

I watch things
like
people
sunsets
daybreaks
buses
ordinary everyday
things that move across
my field of vision and play
games with my
imagination.

When I grow up
I wonder what I'll be
and I wonder
will someone like me
watch me too?

Dress up any way you can
because at the end of it all
we're just mutton dressed as lamb,

and don't we bleat about it,
but no one gives a sheeit about it.

okay,
work is done again
I'm back to being fun again
until
the next time.

grumble grumble
mutter mumble
coffee stumble
back upstairs

power shower
five to the hour
stubble trouble
need a shave

The mirror talks to me  
she says
'look at what you see'
I see
me in
duplicate
triplicate
quadrupled
and the glass shows every line and all the time in front, behind me and in passing where they'll find me one day glued into the wallpaper
a shape
a shadow lifting in the settings of a garden where a Rose that blooms is watching me go by.

but I'm shaved and feel quite sane now, this is how my mind can wander through the Monday morning ritual

I have bacon in the frying pan and baked beans on the plate
though I'm late and Kate can eat them, Kate's the cat and she quite likes men
I'm not sure that she likes me though I am late
so that's debatable.

Treading water or bread in the water are both the same to me, we get soft and soggy then sink unless the ducks get to us first.

One thing I will never do again is age, to old age, it's not what I'd recommend not even to a foe never mind to a friend.

Reading the classics wearing cheap plastic glasses is not what I had in mind when I had a mind,

the problem was too many beers in my formative years or something like that and something like that is treading water,
bread in the water waiting for ducks.

Watching
them spill out their guts
on Facebook, they're nuts,
but i'm one of them in the crowd,
not proud and I could be
I write and what you see
is
what you get.

Someday has come and it's Sunday what fun,
let us reflect as we all genuflect
we are the mirrors that tell us no lies.

Contrite?
I could be
if only
I could see
the picture that's
hidden from view.

Everything was nothing like it could have been
and nothing like I saw was nothing like it looked before
and the day broke
shattered me and all I could see
was you
dressed up in cyan blue
waiting for
something that you saw once before.

The evening blew kisses to the dying sun
and the night flew in on
a wind of black.
'I'll be back just wait and see'
but it wasn't me that said
although those words were in my head
I remained silent
comatose
the darkness rose before me like a curtain
crossing and I was certain
death had its run.
Kingdom may come but not today,tonight and if I'm right
it won't be sometime soon
and so
the moon looks somewhat brighter
my mood being somewhat lighter
and I might purchase a hold
on what tomorrow told me yesterday.

Yes
I think I'll play along
tag onto the future who if as good as it could be
would also tag itself to me
and it goes on.

Departing from platform thirteen?
it depends on whether
the driver's got his act together.

Tuesday flew in like an Exocet
only just missing me

'Another fine mess' said Stanley.

West Ham!
someone should call the butcher,
the baker
and someone said I
should take a
break.

He's got his headphones plugged into
the air vent,
listening to Coldplay?

She's asleep with a book on her lap
imagining the story
minding the gap

Tuesday ain't all that
it's just another day
on the edge.

making loopholes bigger
is the only way,
open wide those sleeping eyes
to a branded day.

The way out is the same way in
light pins me to the floor
but
I'm an awkward little cuss
and always look for more.

There is no 'rock of ages'
it crumbled long ago
no infinite
or definite
no articles of faith

this is it,
a lonely road
no miracle
no cure,
no Jesus Christ
no Robin Hood
no prophecies foretold
the only thing
we're sure of
is
we end up poor
and old.

Loopholes to a better place to
make more holes
and in a bigger space
more holes to hide in
can you face reality?


Uncertainty
is certain in a certain kind of man
and it's certainly
the plan,
to keep
to make more Angels
angles?
sleep.

My eyes are rivers running red across
the spectrum in my head
and in my bed the dream lays silently
more and more uncertainty
certainly.

A box in town
a cardboard room
dressing down
******* gloom,
and soon the morning will arrive,those who struggle, strive to carry on,to carry in their hearts some hope when hope has all but gone.
A box in town
distressed and down
not out.

The Olde Worlde Tea Shoppe
established
nineteen sixty-nine
tells me all I need to know
about
the condensing of time.

The village green has seen
better days,
the people too.

The highest market town in the land
and
I've been there,
sat in the town square
looked down across the valley and marvelled at the peaks,
wondered how the sheep survive
so high
in Hawes.

The summer pours its Yorkshire sun on those who come to visit Hawes,
ideal for those who like to pause amidst the scenery
**** in the greenery
and just be still.

I will return to watch the seasons burn the land in colours bright
and I,
hold tight to this my dream
for I have seen
Gods handiwork
at work among the dales.

Hello
is there anyone out where the light throws its shadows?
anyone?

If there's no one why do I go on?
it's certainly not for the repartee.

I've been away
went above ground
but
picked up by the radar I
didn't get that far
so I'm back

is there anyone out there?
am I all on my own?

I see lightning, hear
thunder
three claps for the man
who goes under and lives,
no one?
and no one replies to my
pleading,

I'm heading to somewhere
a no one and
nobody out there.

The Facebook bogeys are already ramming their
'Happy Monday's down my throat,
jeez, I ain't even had my coffee yet,

in an hour or two when the caffeine works through
and my system's reset
I may get the happiness factor.

(20 minute poetry)

Today is one more away from the day that wore yesterday's veil.

if I fail against all the odds and sods of a day like today I deserve to repeat my mistakes
and if what takes it
gives it
I've got some coming.

They're finding it within their hearts to expose the gentler side
talking of a sleighbell ride,
a bit wide of the mark considering global warming, just saying that today in
real terms ain't worth the cardboard shelter it's written on,

but we'll wish you a happy Hanukkah playing
Rosh Hashanah on the harmonica
we'll cut down a Yuletide log for you
get Santa to buy that dog for you
send millions of facebook likes to you
and that's what we'll do.

Why call it a Wednesday
why not call it as it is
and just say,
it's a lobotomy?

can you see how the day already got to me
and it's not yet five-thirty, it's still dark outside,
but
no use, I can't hide from it,
it's
useless.

I have no identity
who am I
but this that was forced on me,
and you
the greatest of lights would have me nearer to thee
locked as I am in this chemistry
of misery

I shall gather my strength
would that lengthen my days
or would it shorten the way to the end?
Friend?
you are no friend to me
you who would harmonise upon my demise
stifling the cries of the old and the frail
find your own holy grail
you won't find it in me
I have no identity.

Oh yes
we all love hatred
I've left in a bed or two
when they've said,
who the **** are you?
and I've said,
who are you?
and neither of us knew.

Daffodils seem to fill the space between
the ground and...
..Hue,
who thought that February was so flat never
saw a bloom like that.
Oh,
give me room I think I'll faint.

One hour on the battlefield
and
the night healed
pails of sorrow
one day more
to see this end
or will there be
no tomorrow?

If I borrow myself
from what is time,
does that crown
become what's mine?

Another holy cross to war.

let then commence the
blood and pray the devil
have his fun.

We'll string it out until they
string us up.

Brexit is old hat,
but never mind that
what about
Notre Dame?

What about the Christians?
what about the Jews?
what about the ones who pray
to whatever god they choose?

How did Darwin figure it out
and
what does it mean to me?

if a collision course is
what
we're on
and it sure looks that way
does it have to be
that extinction is
the order of the day?

I
am sinking

and there's ****** on the street
no coppers on the beat
they're raiding a cannabis farm
which was out of harms way
somewhere in
Wiltshire
or
Shropshire
but
plenty of cops there.

What am I doing here?
treading on land mines?
reading the life lines ?
I
know there were better times
but do not know when.

Behind the lace curtain firewall
and the hand crafted doily
she spoils me.
I like it.

No go
no show or
go slow
no one is interested
and no one will know.

I'm going down the
escalator
into
London Town the
eviscerator
cutting a dash.

No one told me in
the last century
that
this one would be
just as bad.

The same old ****
they
just changed the numbers
to get a hit,
I'll give it two out of ten.

Friday tomorrow but
why not today
as Grant used to say,
" why not no?"
why go?
why try
I cry
silently.

Does it make you tingle when a lovely young lady says,
hey are you single, do you fancy a night at the flicks?
and after a coffee at her place,
your face says it all.

what would you call it?

a bit of luck that the nip and tuck pulled your paunch in,
thin and lean
you know what I mean

a screen on the green and a salad dish.

Like a fish out of water
I caught a
bus to Hackney
sadly
she was in Putney and
I never saw her at all,

perhaps I will see her in
some cinema feature
at the Odeon cinema
next week.

Five thirty hurt me
and only later does it
hit me
that the thirteenth
is the day to be
super
superstitious

"May the Lord grant mercy to the house of Onesiphorus, for he often refreshed me, and was not ashamed of my chain, but when he was in Rome, he sought me diligently, and found me (the Lord grant to him to find the Lord's mercy on that day); and in how many things he served at Ephesus, you know very well."

and for some reason Timothy comes to mind
and he who searches the bible will find
the same.

So
I covered the mirrors
and
said prayers for the dead,
but the words that I spoke
had already been said.

you see
nothing but what I see,
Timothy knew.

Biblical becomes somewhat
cyclical
or should I be cynical
and say not?

when you're nearer to
what you're likely to get
than what you've got
it pays
to read the bible.

We may fear it as we come to the end of it, but time's not the enemy nor is it a friend to me, it's just a reminder that the clock ticks merrily on its way, day in, day out, the clocks never stop, that's the way the cupcake crumbles or the snowflake stumbles.

It doesn't bother me that what will be we'll see in the fullness of the new Moon and if the great unknown is so unknown how come so many people know about it?

I think that I'll potter along pottering away
and that's the way to do it.

When you're backed into the corner of a circle in a square and the spiral takes you downwards but you wish you wasn't there, when the winds of change just make you cold, when the flapping of the passing years which fly you off to being old and the clock chimes sixteen hundred on the quarter of each day
taking power from you
is this the only way?

Do you sometimes think the click is not the trigger of a gun?
or when the moon shines out at midnight
you make believe that it's the sun?

What's wrong with this that a kiss cannot cure?
money won't cure the poor,
the insanity of the game is thinking we're all screaming sane when clearly we are not
and not while they take the lions share
but
if you think they care
think again.

I see the boy down on the square and watch him as he begs
but
see beyond the outstretched hands to see two
thrombosed legs
and I thought he was lazy

crazy isn't it?
to look at those worse off and think they're ****,
is it better not to see and who's it better for?

Priority and poverty
the
chalk and cheese
of society
what side is your bread
buttered on?

At low tide we

walked along the weir

ha

hanging on to dear life as

if the sharks were about to

devour us, but we were kids

and the only things the size of

sharks were the trout that swam

halfway between the depths of darkness

and the bright light of the day


if mum had her way we'd have stayed in

the shallows,


what we called the paddling pool


but kids are fools at times

unaware that dangers lurk

in the nicest of places




the weir was taken away and the river

runs wilder on its way to the sea




it's different for us now




and I wonder how the fish find it.