Ignore me at your peril Cheryl,
but I won't go away,
You may date that bloke but he's a joke and
they say that he's already wed and
I heard his flat is being repossessed,
his cat is full of fleas,
I stress the fleas 'cause they're not nice,
a bit like head lice but all over,
a bit like him all over you.
Ignore me at your peril Cheryl, and
you're a fool,
he's using you and he's a 'tool'
and he comes from Liverpool,there's
nothing worse than that.

I could have stuck to cowboys and indians and read tales of derring do
instead
I grew up
and fell badly
quite madly
in love with you.

Do you
remember
brand new?

that look and feel
almost unreal
and
you wanted to put it
on,
but you had to wait for
Sunday school
to look so
cool,

when you wore it
you swore it was
and I could not ignore
it was
the bestest
bow tie ever made.

When the talking is done
When the **** hits the fan
When the lights all go out.

The strategy is to make us see our
brothers as enemies,
which frees the blame from the ones
who start wars in my name.

We collude with them by buying their lies
by learning to despise,
by seeing our brothers through the
warmongers eyes.

And when the lights do go out and
the **** hits the fan and the talking is
done,
whose son will you ****?
or will you even care?

if you can talk the hind leg off a donkey
what do you get?
a three-legged donkey
which could be a winner in a
three-legged race.

Writer's cramp
I said,
writer's cramp!
probably the damp
getting into my bones

and yet here I am
a modern man in an
antique situation,

life's no funfair which
is really unfair
or not fair
when life gets there
without me.

Heading downwards in a spiral
not the internet
but going viral and
trapped in layers of solid vinyl
the 45's keep going on.

She liked it when you said that what we had would last forever
but you never knew how long forever was and that was just a micro moment in the fullness of the universe when things that once were good just went from bad to worse.

And when the chasm yawned
a bit like you did in the mornings
when the sun did not arouse you
then she knew there was no chance.

It was no good her looking back
hoping to see you at the window
when you didn't even know
she'd gone for good.

Could things be any different?
Could the universe stop expanding?
do you think that somewhere waiting
on a corner is another who believes
you when forever's in the way?

woke to the sun streaming in and thought I was still fast asleep, but no, I was not dreaming, the sun really was streaming in.

and about time too
its been gone for far too long,

the conspiracist in me
sees that it's part of the great reset.

Everything stacked neatly
the girl at TKmaxx smiles
sweetly as she asks me for
identification,
I tell her it's me,
but that, she cannot see and
asks again for some form of
identity.

I point to my name on the credit card
and say,
it's me, look, not very hard is it?

she calls the store detectives
but not what I called them
when they handcuffed me.

In that the wandering was aimless
pain though quite painful was
painless in comparison to what had gone
before me
and after came more pain but by then
I was used to the injury that history
had bestowed upon me,

gifted though none too bright,
taught how and what to write
by the Pharisee,
was God ever good to me?

A desert came
more pain
visions in the freezing night,

and in all the wandering, the
******* and squandering of my
youthful days,
finally to fitfully gaze upon the
one

and the stars shone on
and the light appeared


what we fear the most
is not fear
but the fear of fearing

who fears the tearing of their skin
when the pustules burst
is that not relief you feel?

the postulant turn to a burning cross
with a fire in her eyes that cry for the loss
of a saviour she knows from the book.

There is lots to review
most of my history
but
some of it new,

whatever!
there is lots to review.

Food for thought makes a
meagre meal
tell me
how do you feel?
hungry.

Do something new
review what you do
and do something new
review.

Does it ever reach the rainbow's end?
is getting old that *** of gold I have
searched for?

Writing
reviewing
and writing
reviewing
it's doing my head in.

Review that.

You can feel it,
the night tapping at the door,
like
the tide coming in
to the disappearing shore.

Then the coldness comes
to numb you
and you wait for the noise
which the day makes as it breaks,
when the sun takes its place
in the sky.

More things will be opening up
and more things will be closing down,
an interesting turn of the turn of the *****
but what can we poor people do?

I see
well read people
well fed people
and
well dead people,
we try to ignore those
but
I still see them.

when it happens
we will know and
we'll be the first to go
under the hammers
and
into the slammers

we haven't got a say in this
you can
kiss your **** goodbye,
the only saving grace I see
is
everyone of us has to die.

'All our yesterday's'
was only yesterday
which is like today,
but
oddly enough not.

I got pay per view for
free and you?

At a roundabout doing ninety
which means she
is doing the same.

I am piecing things together to
stich up my life,
sewing up the sadness
throwing out the knife
there will be
no more cuts ifs or buts.
ah!
but it's random, fractal, an
actual nightmare,
what piece is this piece and
what piece goes where?

And an outline of sunshine fits
nicely over there,
I like it and share.

Quantity or quality?
a choice I make
subconsciously.

In a thousand years from now
a killing machine might think this,
they made of my ancestor, a clown,  
an acrobat,
well I'm having none of that,

but only
if robots are the future and
I'm not sure they are.

From a standing start my
heart races away every
time I kiss her and
I kissed her today.

Taking the line that leads me in time to taking some time for myself.

aware as I am
and I am
watching the sardines squash into
this can
but knowing these people are just like me,
they're not really sardines
that's plain to see
but
poetically
they are.

She's eating noodles
he's dialing dislikes,

I call it a liberty
poetically of course.

We are the poor one's
the
five o-clock shadows.

Lots of red eyes this morning
all expressive of the desire
to stop yawning
I yawn
anyway.

Familiar faces
unnamed
from far off places
like
that man from Japan
with his wife or
his daughter?
I really ought to
get my glasses cleaned.

Still no canaries as
if there ever was
at
the wharf.

Somehow
it's liberating
to see what a
state I'm in
but
you really should
see me later.

Red riding hood
gets on again
at
Canada Water
I had an idea that
she would
and
she'll get off at Green Park
unless
she surprises me.

Wondering if I'm as predictable
or capable of anything new,
that's who I am
a
sardine in a can
for now.

I shall swim out at
Pond Street
oops
Bond Street
unless
because
unless is the ink
which leads me to think
that
I'm running out of the time
that it takes.

Out across the Northern sea
she sits serenely watching me as I sit watching her
two chairs,one space
and Skype lets me
look on her face.
So beautiful,
I'm full of glee
but she sits quietly watching me and sees in telescopic sight a man that might appeal and could he feel her heart beat tenderly?
somewhere across the Northern sea.

I felt the winds ride in her hair as the ocean carries me off,where we'll meet,and yes, her heart beats tenderly.
I'll be her picture on the wall,with colours bright so when she calls to me across the Northern sea,
I'll be in frame
Just wait and she will call my name.
This type of Skyping is no game for children or for lesser men.
When oceans rise and flow quite freely from her eyes
I shall sail across the sea to be wallpapered on her screen,compute the distance,data insistence regulates
and eventually terminates the nightly talk.
tonight I walk
tomorrow free
for we will skype again,
I see the Northern lights
she sees in telescopic sight this man
who waits upon the Southern shore
wanting more.

Oh internet
you'll not regret this meeting of the continents and quite content I sit and wait
until the data gate is opened up for me.
she sits and waits somewhere across
the Northern sea.

When you're looking at the clock
rocking to and fro'
and you know you've got to get up
so you get up and you go
to the station where you wait
rocking to and fro' .

Then you're gone
the day that was
moves on as indeed
you move
yourself.

Lady with the long black hair
was sitting there
yesterday
she's still asleep

and man with giant earphones
next to her
and next to him
a thin man
it might be the
'Third man'
it could be the
'Tin man'
but I digress
the
girl wearing Burberry
on a Blackberry
eating a strawberry
Is only in my head.

Get wafer thin and waved right in to the slimmest thing in town,

she looked leaner than the pipe cleaner and I wasn't all that keen on her,
wasn't sure if I wanted to be seen with her, the final straw,
the one that broke the camel's back.

I think not sleeping is keeping
me awake.
If I could take that cup of kindness pill
I will or would
feel ill or good,
it's hard to tell if I am well or shot to hell.

I need some Rip Van Winkle time,don't need to hear the hall clock chime or in some rhyme mime words to songs I've never heard..
At the third stroke I shall choke,so says the speaking clock,
please knock me out and let me get some sleep in.

It's a sin to stay awake, let sleep within its rightful place take me away,already it's today and wakefulness won't stay away,please mix me up a 'Mickey Finn'
administer and let sleep in.

I think I might float out, push the boat out
and catch the evening tide, it could take me away to sea,
it could set me on an isle where there was only me,
alone,
I could be
alone,
I
would be alone...

I think I will take some friends with me
when I push out the boat and float out to sea.

I'm not ready
so
it can't be that time already,
surely not.

and not being late until I am late,
I wait.

As the clock ticks and the hands move
I move too, around the room and realising
that the shipping forecast is pointless when
you're landlocked
I go to make coffee.

I thought a touch of red-eye,
the sky really is pink,
but
I forgot my dressing gown
and it's me that is blushing.

..and then came a Tuesday
bright and cheerful,

Early, at this time,
which is usually the case.

I am
combing my hair and
untangling my face,
displacing the wrinkles.

coffeetime at four forty nine
I must be going mad.

Sunshine,
don't you want to eat it with a fork,so
beams can drip through every tine
and splash against a
lime washed
man squashed
wasting time, watching
sunlight
waiting for the
night.

Sleigh bells ring
start complaining
it's 3am
and it's raining
nothing seems right
when Santa gets tight,
something, something, in
a something land.

In the meadow where
they're building factories,
we can write to Santa for a job
he'll say, on yer bikes
there's nowt for you there,
I think that Santa must be a right ***.

Carols are such fun.

I think we had snow in the night
it's *** freezin' cold and the
streets are all white,
yes,
we definitely had snow in the night.

I dreamt of hot spots,
lots of them.

The ninth
not a symphony
soliloquy
inbox me
for more information.

Time
spares no thought for me
tramples all over me
one day I'm going to be
late.

At least Friday's my friend.

There's a holding cell where they keep Wednesday
and on Wednesday it's let out for the day..

..and it wants to be friends
but that's where it ends,

it's a  bit like a rescue day
that everyone puts
on a lead
and everyone thinks
that they need one
until it arrives and it
won't go away.

She squints at the sun
her eyes like ripe almonds
that dance in the light.

I look at her and share that memory
to my memory bank and thank whatever
god of goodness sent her this way,

peppermint tea and she drinks with me on
an afternoon reflected in teaspoons and cake knives
what lives we live.

We don't have time to live,to die or even give living a try,so what's it all about and why or what are we here for anyway?
In the year dot when God had a soft spot for Adam and Eve who didn't believe in anything at all and before Eve's fall from grace,there was a place to be in harmony and not some grotty dump like today where we pump our misery,carried away by tanker truck and no one seems to give a,
hard luck story's ten a penny.

Where are you Maud?
we came into the garden at three and now it's time for afternoon tea,has it come to pass that you'll be found in the long grass with some son of a gun?
'come into the parlour' said the fly,I don't know why because fly's don't talk and neither do I.

I walk through dormitories thinking long bed rows of stories and sleep in paper boats which float me on high seas,high teas,no Maud.

Which all amounts to diddly squat,slightly more than what I've got and what I've seen,
but I have been to London and I have seen the Queen who stole the tarts,while Jack was busy stealing young girls hearts,
and all my life is one cartoon,one dimension,oh but soon, there are inventive men who'll wrap me round a reel again and off I'll go.
A push and pull me,random figure on a top,spinning circles into carpets 'til I stop and pop goes one more weasel,
written on the board in chalk which in turn is stood upon the,Lord have mercy,save me from this nourishment,
Maud lent me her key,where is Maud? it's time for tea.
The men in coats come down for me,they're as nice as nice as nice men can be and work in the infirmary attached to the asylum.
I'll be back.

There are ghosts that hide in seashells,
that's why she sells them by the shore,
ghosts that call for the tide to turn and
she sells them by the score.

looking for changes in fortune?
looking to win one more war?
listen to the ghosts in the seashells
which she sells, by the sea,
on the shore.

They'll whisper to you in the evening
when the light moves away from your gaze,
and in the castles, you built from your dreams
they will echo throughout all your days.

slowly tripping through the old blue cobblestones
that lead us to the river on a Sun streaked afternoon
and light glints off the ripples that
looks like Knights in shining suits.

We allow these flights of fancy free
her and me
me and her
down there at the river side
where
white swans glide and
look for all the world to be
white horses riding in
just for her and me.

and back uphill
taking time
my hand in hers
and hers in mine

slowly as we always do,
one day
if you're lucky
you'll get older too

enjoy the moments
they are rare.

It's good
if you only think you're going mad
but bad
if you really are.

There's nothing there
nothing in mad
it's just a place to go

think we all know
that
don't we?

Attracted to the flame
some
go back again
some
stay forever
never coming back

I don't blame them.

Then Francois said,'so far it's looking okay'
and I,
being in Dieppe for the day
said,
'yes'
I could guess what you're thinking but I'm busy drinking cheap lager and wine,mixing hops with the vine,something I do all the time,
and the time is now,
got to forget it somehow,alcohol assists me
duty free.

The blind beggar near Aldgate
a city gent at the Embankment
the Temple not meant for a psalm

this District line takes
some time to unravel
so I travel on blindly
much the same as the beggar.

Euphoria
I'm passing Victoria and she passed
away many a long day ago.

and
I am heading to Kew but Richmond may do
a walk in the gardens or a stroll by the Thames
all caught quite neatly by the camera's lens.

In a day filled with happy
I have to ask her to
slap me
just in case I am dreaming.

........................ ................,.

(part 2)

Back I thought to Barons court
alas 'twas not to be
I took the platform on the other side to find myself beside a sea
which pleased me absolutely,

going home is such a chore
I'd sooner watch the comings of the tide but what I actually saw
was building sites by seaside huts,

this nuts and bolts society has once again undoubtedly
******* me up completely.

Short platforms are the norm for me
in this shrunken underground
where I can see
that insanity
Is the next stop.

Three artists for effect
a tower to direct the Sun
to paint the mornings when my mum
made breakfast,

now dear mum has gone
the paint has faded
the art struck dumb
the towers crumble one by one
and on and on
we go.

I mis-kicked it
got on the District
It
is not the Circle line train

******* up
being chewed up
by the miles of
steel track
and when I'm restless
I see less
become more irritable
until the situation gets
intolerable and I
am plain horrible

I haven't got the patience
to play patience
too impatient and
it's not important
is it?

Now at the Temple
and there's a pain
in my temples,
it's a migraine
on a train
on the District line
what a fine time
I'm having.

Wait a minute
this is the circle line
it must be
I'm at Westminster,

I feel less pain
still getting a migraine
but
I'm on the right line
having a fine time
except for the migraine.

Now at Victoria and
heading to Sloane square
one had better beware
there's pickpockets
that operate
down
in Sloane square.

when I get to High street Ken'
I'll be almost done
touch in at
the design museum
just to see 'em,
the designs I mean
and see the Sun
I missed
getting *******
for absolutely no reason
except for the reasons
I was.

Oh Valentine,oh Valentine
thou hast forgotten me
for where is
mine?

If I could buy just one more day..I'd pay the Earth.
To open up my eyes again and feel the loving pain of life and stretch my arms up to the sky..

..But here I lie..Alone in death..
No Angels came to give me breath to breathe in paradise...and let me tell you..
..it aint nice.

So..

If I could buy just one more day I wouldn't waste my words to say."what time is it"..****..I wouldn't care.
I'd nurse each second like a baby in my arms and handle gently every minute..as if a cry would spoil the spell and send me screaming back to Hell and if I heard the clock at all that echoes loudly, I would fall again into despair..
..Something I care not to do.

But what I have is what I've got..a six foot plot..and lost somewhere along the way was any hope of buying one more day.

So I will lay.Wishing I could gaze once more upon the sky.
Wishing I could buy..
..Another day.

In the eyes of the eyes of the man that I am, created by chance but that wasn't the plan, in the eyes that see life when support is switched off,
John Doe carries on,
where wrong's the new right and the night becomes day and the devils that hoodwink begin their final play and the sky's inside out where the clouds are below and the time reaches zero for me and John Doe.

I begin the new chapter when the laughter dies down and the maids of the forest move back to the town
where the mayor casts a challenge to all who will hear, it is the eyes of the eyes in the man that I fear.

No God makes a sin for the son he will lose and no son of mine would I choose for that task,
I ask for more always seeking the less and give blessing to poor men who if I confess are all me and where destiny wings me it sings me to sleep in the eyes of the eyes of the man.

The monitor blinks and I think
God's winking at me,
it's a quarter to three and he or she
should not tease me like this.

I lay a kiss on the cross
the vicars loss
my gain
and switch off
the pain.

..and then she looked through me
as if I wasn't there
but I'm here which is where
she was looking,

thinking I'm a ringer for Schroedinger's cat
and believing that
leaves me flat
or not flat
depending upon who's looking and when.

So
have I got to be dead before you read me?

The poet said if you
don't feed me, you don't need me,

I'll get a job at Walmart
that'll do for a start
it's better than
panhandling on the turnpike,

I might get on my bike
go off to war
fight,
I might,
but dragons scare me when
they're not windmills.

So many hills to climb,
much easier for me
if you can find the time
to feed my need for you to read
before
my time is up.

We'll be out of the woods
when
they cut down all of
the trees.