What we need is an escape pod
painted blazin' red like a hot rod
to ******* out of here.

can you smell that fear
feel it tingle down your spine?

one more time
what we need is an escape pod.

Subtracting light and bleeding into night though white and not,not dark a spot lets through a little piece of you, and you
not knight,a damsel in distress could I do any less than save?
I am a slave upon this summer time, a bee line making humming sound and finding solid ground to stretch my intellect,yet I subtract another integer,point another *******,bleed a little lingering,waiting for my lady to sing to me and too readily I agree another touch upon this key in life,in life that's all I see,the dark and light,the melody,the reasoning,the happiness and misery,the woe,the war,the deaf,the blind who cannot see,therefore I consider,lucky me who has so much,who has the touch to touch upon the chords that make up me the song,sing on and so it goes.

Missing my Miss
makes me look forward to this,
to the reunion,
the kiss.I am
missing my Miss.

I am being fed upon
exploding stars
then they're gone,
when the night swallows me
and I wallow in the shallows of infinity
where the limits I defined
define only me
and this I must see with
my own eyes
to believe.

Marriage
terms and conditions apply
no guarantees.

To cry with happiness because
one has been blessed with
matrimony
is only
natural.

why
go it alone if you meet
that person you'd want
to set up home with?

Something is happening here
the deeper I peer
the more that
I see her
something
is happening here.

It started like this,
a bus station kiss
then something began, and
the more that I ran
the closer I got
to
that spot where it starts
the meeting of hearts
something is happening
here.

The closer I get
the more that I see,
something is happening and
it's happening to me.

Down by the shore.
I built a monument to this land
A castle of sand.
With a drawbridge and..
..battlements.
It gave me a sense..
..of belonging.

As these grains start to fall
I mould them into a cannon ball
To fire at those sailing boats which float on the sea.
I know that they're waiting for me
Waiting to see
If I crumble.

My bucket and ***** turns into a shield and a blade
I will fight for what's mine
My design is to be
Free from the ships that sail rough on this sea.

The moon takes a hand
Joins with that piratical band
To destroy all I've made
I should have stayed
In bed.

Monday
and the only obstruction
is a curtain of rain.

I'll get through it.

Shouted out in little bursts
the truth will wound
and the truth hurts
but spread out thinly
grimly
slimly grasping hold
the truth is truth that must be told.

Truthtellers on the ball
never seen down in Whitehall
where slimy grips with microchips
and microdot would stop the truth before the rot of truth
infected all electorate
at any rate
I think it's true
or just another lie to lie in bed with other untruths that were said
and was the truth put in a book I read or was that just another lie in bed?

I can't tell what's true or not the microdot has chipped my brain
I'll never be the same again.
At Mansion House where I've never been
you should have seen me there
another lie ,oh I can't bear the shame
tap me on the shoulder,send me off to jail
disregard the pleas for bail
and let me fail inside the cell
a battery man
electric hell
don't tell me lies
don't give me grief
I'm safe within my own belief
that everything is right and just
and only those who think they must tell lies
will die inside the living
of the truthful eyes that eye the man who would tell lies.

The essence of it seems to be
the truth will always set you free
from any cell,electric hell
I'll give Whitehall
a call
and let them know.

Dear John,

I got your letter,
it's sat here on
my breakfast table and this I swear,
when I am able
I will appoint a minister, to anoint the hearty souls who take such pleasure in taking polls,another one who we'll call John to join the lines on motorways,preferably on busy days.
A minister, I will need to feed the barons of the press some home produced (by my good wife)
bowls of steaming Eton mess.

I shall endeavour to be so clever and put forward bills to fill the grumbling tums of stumbling bums,if they exist at all.
and I won't fall into the trap of thinking this World's round not flat.

Yours
David.

All I need's an App
to get rid of the Krap
and one more App to get back
to the start.

It'd be easy
to go back
to booting up,
shooting up,
far too easy
but
I have never liked
the easy options in life,
always took the harder way
looked the other way
and fell away
to fail each day,

oh!
you might exclaim,
how lame of him.

I won't go back to
being sick again,
I only need to look at
number ten
to see how sick
things really are.

Slightly
John Doe
less now I know and
nowhere to go
but
all is not lost
there'll always be
Jane

just a shame we meet
in such unfortunate
circumstances

In the department called
freedom of
expression,
where the language is quite
Anglo Saxon
there's no room for the weak
or for those who
don't curse when they speak or
describe most emphatically
and graphically detail each
****** function.

An adage in old age is, **** them,
the men down in Whitehall with
no ***** for billiards and
the bankers who spank us with
high rates and interest
can fester away and
testing each day as it comes are
the bums and the drop outs queuing
for hot tea and handouts
and **** them too.

To be free to express is a gift,
nonetheless one we must use
with a modicum of
compassion but the fashion today
is to curse the **** away
and each expletive pronounced only comes back to flaunt or to flounce and there's not an ounce of common sense in the pretense I may feign by reigning my words and refraining from swearing, I
say
**** 'em again.

If I hang I'll hang well and stink to high hell and that's one way to express what a ******* awful mess
we're all in.

Not so dark as it's painted to be
but quite honestly
it still looks like midnight to me
and
I want to stay in bed.

If you sit at home for long enough
you'll get short tempered enough
for people to keep an arms length
away from you,

pre-decimal,
an arms length was a fair distance
and now
I wouldn't give you tuppence for it.

Captain Flaherty
shook his head for clarity and
swatted flies away
under the desert skies in
the heat of the day...

what a way to earn
when you've got to blasted burn
just to draw your pay,
you might as well give up and
make your way
back home....

Sergeant Slattery
tolerates no flattery but
listened to the plea,
picking fleas from his hair as
he drank his tea...

Not a chance in hell,go
sick and say
that you're not well,or
self inflict a wound,
we're all ****** doomed and
you're going to stay..

The final word from him
the devil
with a devil's grin,the
show begins at nine,hear the
bullets whine as they
splice the air...
I'll be watching you,popcorn
and a front row view,
I do not want to miss,
the angel of sweet
death as it gives
you a loving kiss...

a word from Flaherty who said,
'well I'll just wait and see,I'll
pray to God at eight and if
I'm late at nine feel free
to
start without me...

The sun sneaky sun run away in disguise and this guy's looking out, but no sun in the skies which are greystone
my eyes are the same.

I blame this ennui on my local MP who's as much use as a cork on the Titanic, he can talk of the energy crisis, but I have one of my own.
It's not fair that his hot air is wasted, it's not right that I don't have a bean or a light for the night.

it's unseemly that Queenie has billions and there's people that sleep on the street and no wonder the sun doesn't rise in the West when we're past our best and the wrapping's undone and who'd want to meet us in the streets of the potless? it's pointless but sharp all the same

The sun sneaky sun
somehow ceased to be fun
someone give me a gun,
bang.

So we looked and we saw what we'd never seen before and before the lights had changed we had looked and seen some more,
we saw an ocean of madness flowing in waves of sadness on the pavements and sidewalks where talking's forbidden and laughter
is hidden away behind steely grey doors where the laws of this land trip over the hand outstretched
and the wretched cry out, 'I see' but they don't,
how can they? the grey doors are shut.
There but for you go I.

Pirouette
cast your vote
get results.

let's all go to
the dumb down
station
so
simple it insults
imagination.

that's what they rely on
I
think that it's a try on.
and
we're the ones being
put upon.

and you've got to pick the
right one
sort through all the lies.

What ties up the manifesto
is the rope
they'll hang you with,
don't give them the
opportunity.

Anyway
did you vote today?
did you have your say?
I did.

Trending,
seems like it's never ending,
racing downhill
until
I
Stop.

I need to sleep
not write,
I can't pretend anymore
that this song is not the
song of
oncoming night

I am tired now
so tired now
how
was it for you?

the humour
even in death
comes though.

Climb aboard the gravy train,
it was a boat,
but that got sunk
the pilot drowned
and he was drunk
so
didn’t feel a thing.

Bring some cigs and filter tips
I like to smoke them cool.

I have set some lips on fire
and blushed bright red at dawn
been naked on the altar
the day that I was born, but
I never tasted lips so keen as
those lips that taste of
Steve McQueen.

I guess that was her previous beau
I really ******’ hope so.

The cloud had a silver lining
which I
sold down in Hatton Garden
and bought a
second-hand computer from
a hard driven sales director.

All that it did for me
was to light up a screen
on which I could see
clouds.

There's a moral here,
but I fail to see a
computerised
image
other than clouds.

Interstellar,
not such a great name
for this handsome fella,
but
it'll do.

Cosmic radiation?
yep,
congratulations
you've graduated,
you're now a star.

how far is it to Summer?

They took China out from every equation,
but the Orient wasn't the major problem.
they that never look at the shadows cast
yet stand before the mast as Captains
of the ships
should come to grips with what is wrong
or it's going to be
a seeya later, sayonara and tomorrow


It's Sunday,
done the church thing, heard the bells ring,
seen the vicar bring the cross to life,
gave and willingly my tithe and
it feels good to be alive.

Christ and my feigning of an ignorance
meets with some resistance
but persistence pays good dividends
so
I try to tie up all loose ends with..
..the Philipines so full of promise
broke my dreams,
I wandered in and through
returning as I do
back to Honshu

If this was idle talk I'd obfuscate and
try to escape a painful conversation
make an objection
the awkward ******* is irrelevant
a bit like China really.

Who puts up a title like that
and why?

seriously though
as clouds go
those looked like
dragons dancing.

okay,
it's license,
but
floats in the air
like incense.

No.one's singing
'Pollywollydoodle all the day'
anymore,
are they?

The new year's nearly here, I feel that 1665 old fashioned kind of cheer, but it's difficult to show some when a gun is to my head.

Those ghosts are massing
at the walls.

It wasn't the rows or the rantings..
..the spells you cast or the chantings
It was the cat.

You loved that cat more than me..
..and the cat knew.
That much I could see.

The little rat I didn't like it all that much..
..in fact I couldn't bear to touch its fur.
It did not like me anyway
The little swine would stand and spray upon my suit.
You should have given it the boot.
Instead you gave the boot to me.

On the great architects plan
we appear to be so small
almost an afterthought
almost as if
we should not
be there
at all.

Alert to my senses and building up my defences
intending to hold this fort for today.

Monday has that look about it
that says,
whatya gonna do about it.

are you even awake?

5:50 which is the time and probably what it cost me to open up these peepers of mine,
haha
Peepers, as if I ever peeped
no!
my eyes are greedy for sights, starving for the light to enter, for the images to become clearer.

Time to exercise
mentally,
mustn't strain the fabric
of my framework by being
too physical,
this bag of bones
got work to do
later.

After the snow,with nowhere to go,when the streets are so hard,a yard thick in ice,it's not nice,
but for those with a home and a nose for some heat,the drifters can shift,because you can't beat a bit of selfishness ,
and surely them what has less, do not deserve more,or what the hell are we working for?

Let them eat cake, courtesy of this great welfare state who give benefits for,to keep the wolves from our door.
It's all give and take at the end of the day and at the end of the day they drift slowly away to some courtyard or bridge,ridges of ice on their brow,
how sad it all seems when the Queen's got so much and the dickwads in Whitehall are so out of touch,
such is the way of the city today,we bypass and pass by,some glance and some wonder why, but most of us really don't care.
It's not us who's there,no concern of mine and no time to stop and see what they do not
it has to stop.
We are the civilised and it's time that we realised, that it's not dog eat dog,we are all just a cog in the workings of life.

Chance,
it's either
yes or no or maybe
but I told you so
and always
fifty
fifty
unless some shifty dealer's
rigged the wheels.

I stand alone
cut to the bone and
cut deals with the devil too.

Black and fifteen on the red
or pass don't bet
that's
better yet
than a chance no chance
which is all you'll get
in here.

(20 minute poetry)

Death defying?
No
I'm lying, I
do it
every day and that's
the way of it,
It occurs to me this
way is ****, but
what else can I do?

Two years
of bull and I had
two years to
pull out.

My life takes a right
turn? a roundabout the
wrong way to go. I
know this and hope that I
miss the head on.

Death defying? I
ain't even trying you'll
know when I am.

Cheap wine
Hard time
The sentence
Is up for
Review.

Everything draws away
the rivers shrink into the sea
the oceans into the sky
is this what it's like when you die?
When your eyes are shut but the light carries on
and you drink up the night after
swallowing the sun,
does everyone come to this end?
And in the day that you're born when
the sound of those shadows take form will you
know who and where you
are at?

I sleep.
I wake
and break into a thousand parts,
a hundred thousand beating hearts and
all I want to hear
is yours.

Who will follow on from one who ******  the diamond and the dollar, who will seek the holy grail until the end of a tomorrow, who will fall with failing eyesight never seeing his Nirvana, will the mountain and Mohammed come to some form of agreement?

she sent me unsigned colour postcards from a place called Alicante
and I never knew her name or who it was that she was meant to be,
but the scenery was perfect and the beaches were all pristine and the ocean was a mirror reflecting things I wish I could have seen

and when you think you're being saved
you know the saviour cannot see you
because the harbour lights will blind him
and when you find it hard to find him in
the shadows that are broken in the waves of
voices breaking on the pristine beaches
faking it,
you know that it is taking you away.

It was her breathing
that had me believing
she wanted me,
she breathed,
I believed
and then I woke

Shapes in the landscape and kisses left on window panes ,
stains on the bed sheets and all of these meet in the end.
Most of the time
I live far below the waterline where the air is strung out in bubbling lungs,occasionally climbing the rungs to the surface.
I have seen all that I need and fed lightly on greed,watched the passing of wars, saw raw hatred and love cooked in the hearts of desire.
I now have the tranquility of being deep undersea,the wall of the artery is built within me and my home.
And even deeper where the sleeping dogs lie there is a light that dances,flashing glances I see that the light also sees me which is something I strive for,something to stay alive for.
But the ocean is a turbulent place for the man with no face and the waves conspire to put out the fire that burns,each wave takes it in turns to pummel and pound the watery ground where I stand,not knowing that I am the rock that this man stands upon,we are one and the same,
I am the kiss that smudges,the stain that refuses to budge,the shape that you see,the blood that flows hotly through the heat of the artery.
I am the heart in me,I beat against time and time beats inside me,under the sea
it's all it can be
I expect no more than that.

I drift
slowly
comfortably
the silence surrounds me.
The ocean around me,thus trapped I am wrapped in the Mother's embrace,a softness that fills me with salt and with the sea,and I am free from the trappings,unwrapped from the scratchings,released from the longings and drifting,
slowly
to and through the endlessness of tide times,silence in the way I agree with the ocean,the sea.
She lifts me to be
the drifter.

The plan is to get three million people to mobilise and then volunteer in the health sector which at the present time must class as a dangerous occupation.

Me:

Safe in bed and the rent's being paid
ain't misbehavin' and I ain't being laid
but I'm safe and secure and definitely sure
that I won't be volunteering for that.