Anger is
what chews you up and
spits you out,
Anger sits on your shoulders
and shouts in your ears,
Anger fuels all your fears
Anger burns up your years
and before you know it
you're old
and even angrier.

Wow!
millions of mutual friends with Jesus.

It's probably too good to be true
Facebook is spoofing me.

We shouldn't shout about the doubt that Thomas put about
but..but ..but where are all the fact-checkers to check the facts we want to check?

millions is a big number and
it would take an awful lot of
fingers and toes or knees and elbows
before anyone knows just how big it is.

I'd like to pass go
and
collect a lump sum.

The light fall attracts me and like a moth I'm distracted, burn and I go back again.
I spin and return to
feel the burn and contracting, but it's just me that's playing a part in a play, acting a role as directed.

Catherine wheel round to revolve, hit the ground and I smoulder, the smoke turns me blue, the flame sneaks itself out and the World gets a bit colder, but it's just acting, scene one, the World hasn't gone it's just hidden in her Ladyship's handbag.

Using a pin code to get over the main road I dodge all the traffic at nine,
the machines let me slow into the way, but I know which way they'd like me to go so I stay.

It's a misdirect and it's done to confuse me when the light finally fails me and the smoke tails off from me like rain from the gutter,
I splutter until I can utter no more cries,
dry my tears on a handkerchief
and go.

At ten minutes to eight in a state of weightlessness,weighing less than I did,having got rid of my soul,I am on the whole
dissatisfied.
Though I tried to hang on and prove that the devil was wrong,the temptation was great and at a quarter to eight I gave in,and
sold off my soul for a portion of sin with plenty of sauce and now
of course
I regret this mistake and at five before eight weighing nothing at all
I fall.

When I fall and falling is the thing
falling when I'm falling,
never hearing sound when
something goes on or
seeing
solid ground at all,
I fall and fall and fall
and fall again

I have hit those limits set beyond
the limits that were said to be
unreachable for me,
but all is well.

In every day that breaks a nighttime
takes a day to readjust its mood
to stand and take a look around
and
solid ground's not solid ground in
space when everything turns round and
falling never hearing sound at all.

Somewhere in some place your time
I'll find my place and know I'm home
and mine's the fire that's burning
in the grate.

So,
you want to try amphetamine?
methylated Ketamine?

have you seen the stat's?
that's a bad movie in which to
play a role.

Give me acetylene to set fire
to the dormant dream,
let's wake the sleeping
there's
not much point in them keeping
their eyes closed
when they never see
anything anyway.

I've seen them drinking gasoline,
eating boot polish because it contained
morphine
syphoning paraffin to get their fixes in,
it's some serious **** when you'll die
for a hit or
**** for a spliff.

These are the quicksands
the tightening wrist bands
the end of the good times
the start of the bad lands

hands up who still wants to try.

(20 minute poetry)

I tried to write the day he died
I tried
I really tried,
but ******* as I am in the
death of the man
I could only weep.

He'll be safe up in the stars,
electric blue light in electric blue cars
and I'll still drink in all those tunes
for many moons to come.

Before the massacre
I have to think about
my answer
and
wonder
if or when
I'm taken prisoner
would I worry then.

And the hostage
who would pay
the ransom?
who
would free the
holy man?

If the end is to be seen
the bishop takes the queen
the king, the rook,
what the ***'s it all been for?

I think about the door
nothing more than that.

She walked with yellowed eyes into the night of a Halloween
and the Moon was silenced in its hour by the sights that it had seen
the gipsy queen was strumming on a harlequin guitar as
the soldier boy wrote home saying, this war's gone too far,

I was writing, writing in my soul, digging deeper down into the role, the audience was shouting for some more as the dream flicked out and slammed the door,  
but all the same, know what I mean?
what's real is nothing but the dream.

why does the cat get all the cream
where did that come from?

In the clearance store
what we wore
was a change of appearance,

when or if the mask slips away
we
buy another one
direct from ebay

everyone is living the dream.

Down at the pawn shop
we pop the gold in
until we get paid
and eventually get old
still
popping the gold,

It's the things we do and
what we threw away
that make today
unacceptable
so
you
stew in your own juices
and
I'll stew in mine.

Pantomime?
well it could be
if
Widow Twankey's
buying duty free
and
bound to me
a non celebrity.

I put on the make up
and fake it
some take it
seriously,
seriously?

hard nosed
two faced,
I am outside
and out paced
by the
Bow Street runners.

I want to bend like a reed with the seaweed below and flow with these tides that I know,
I need to sleep in the deep
not sowing
not reaping
just sleeping
forever.

Connection dropped
popped up on the screen
and we've all been there
haven't we?

A wayward satellite
spins off into a lonely
night?

It's Friday and sometimes
connections get in the way,
sometimes the only way is
to go it alone.

To admit I prefer
being out there
is one of my life's
little mysteries
and it's strange when I can
be an unconnected kind of man
that
I long for some company.

Pay no heed to me
the Central line's feeding me
manna to chew on

when the internet's not on
I do not switch off.

bearded man
looks like
Van ****
I'd press like
if I could.

Young lady may be asleep
I wonder
where does she keep
her thoughts when her
eyes are shut tight?
another satellite
spinning off
somewhere
anywhere?

I'd share
but there's
no internet.

Old chap with a
watch on his wrist
what's he watching
for?
the beginning?
the end?
I press send
it doesn't work
nothing works
except for me and
I work hard.

We decant ourselves into
something else
and turn into someone else
who we don't know,
maybe
it's best just to stay in the lamp.

Nature's got to me
roots are sprouting,
I'm going out in
to the forest soon.

Vegetating
on the diet
they make in
laboratories.

If they'd let me be a tree
I'd have branches everywhere.

..and now I'm awake
though some say not woke
but I'm just a ploughboy
one of those Northern folk,

what do I know about how things
should go
and more to the point
why should I care?

someone out there
yes
and that could be you
would understand
why we do what we do,

in here
it's just me with a hot cup of tea
thinking of chocolate biscuits.

I forgot to get the jam
doesn't matter if it was
summer morning strawberry
whose taste I can't forget,
I forgot.

The internal argument rages on
and that doesn't matter either,
I forgot and the last of the jam
is gone.

That's the tragedy of being elderly
and I'm glad that I'm not there yet,
but
I still forget

There were thousands and thousands o'kids
Pushed down pits or stamped out in t'mills
Mekin theer bids fer freedom.
Aye...from the drudgery and slavery of serfdom.

Now I realise..all that they got was a sub standard plot..
..and two penny's to cover...their poor dead eyes
And in the parlours Ma cries.

It was the minimum rate from which..
..we still cannot escape.
The rasping and grasping maws..
..the jaws that still trap us in poverty and penury
It's time for the judiciary to alter the law
To give poor people more.
What the **** are they waiting for?
A return to the old ways..
..back to the old days?

I wait for the answer but suspect I won't hear
And wonder what year this can be
Or even what century.

Ipso Facto
which is
as far as I know
the first two words
of a children’s rhyme.

Time indeed is enough to feed on
and leave one feeling empty.

Not being but seeing and feeling
and fortunate to have found
some meaning,
but
still searching for some more.

This day shall stay in my memory
like all the days that lay before me
and have yet to be discovered.

© 2019, John Smallshaw.

In equal quantities
I am he as much as
he is me,
we always fight
sometimes
I win
sometimes
not,
but then I grin
and bear it,

we share it
and by it
I mean me
or as he says,
he.

Doing some
and some need doing
more than others.

Boris was in full flow
spouting off about how things
would go

and wouldn't you know,
the future looks amazing
and Boris only days in
the job.

That's what I need,
a lead,
said no dog ever.

so
I'm still doing some
and some need doing
more than ever.

The night becomes blind by
what plays on in my mind
I
link up to the lights that react
pupils contract
and the deal has been done.

In the arena and you should
have seen her
I did and wish I had more,

she beat me
fair and square
I was there and
that's a fact.

The day has a way
of
distorting the truth.
and the shadows are ruthless,
relentless.
which means less to her
than to me.

Out on the balcony
she
waves to me
and smiles.

One hundred and one
mahjong tiles and
I cannot find a
match.

somewhere in time, maybe space too
we'll find out if what we were taught
was true,
don't know about you,
but seriously
that incestuous whining of space doing time in
is bending the boundary of belief.

It's a race,
this thing with time and space,
the great universal ******* contest.

I am not in awe
I am either in Brighton
or London,
depends if the light's on
as to where, but not to whom
because there's no room
for second guessing
except for the sycophant
who'll stick out his tongue and
pant for more.

There's an inevitability to this
you can call it senility,
it's still a ******* contest.

Tuesday falls
which is no surprise,
everything's falling,

and
time that flies
flies no more,
unless I'm mistaken
which I could easily be.

Thinking about getting up,
this may take some time.

slow in the morning
before the coffee kicks in
but
when it happens
I'm as sharp as a pin,

and I know this,
that these moments are torments
designed to make us move,

there is no rest for the wicked.

It will always be the popcorn that makes you come alive, that makes you glad that you were born, that gives you goosebumps early morn'
popcorn's got a lot to answer for.
and euphemisms
I adore.

Sunday and it is evening
I have still to pray
to make my peace with those above
and cleanse my sins away

to be honest though
I'd rather have a pint
and watch the match.

About five million results in one second!
slow,
I cast my mind back before the internet
and get a lifetime of results
almost instantaneously.

At the creek or up the creek? no need to speak of paddles.
she wears a mask of purity and defies me to defile it,

while waiting I grow a beard, all the rage on Elizabeth's stage and after all aren't we all actors?

Beauty spots for places and faces and graces the fairest of them, men **** at will for the chance to live well not knowing the well's running dry.

Under the hood of a Charing Cross sky where the beggarmen cry, 'alms for the poor guv'
I fell in love with a dream that was mine,
over a period of time I have thought about this and wondered what did I
if anything miss

never happier and reflected in your eyes
a blue much bluer than the bluest of skies.

At the creek or up the creek no need to speak when a kiss says it all.

..and our new colour range
features,
'Lockdown Blue'
a light tone for you to
remember
what it used to be like
or if you like
what it never used to be
like.

Paint your ceiling
paint the wall
paint your tears
as they fall

'Lockdown Blue'
covers all
in one coat.

Every word's in German
or it could be me
that is not,
and not what?
I hear you say.


I hear many things
some unlikely
most untimely
and some will find me
here or there
mainly
laissez-faire.

Finger on the trigger guard
trying hard
not to slip.

It might be Dutch
words being doubled
such is life,

we never know
unless we learn
from those mistakes
and our linguistic
incapability

No pills I can take for this ache,
no potion to calm the swell of this ocean.

I find the formula in
my love for her
and she cures
everything.

It was already midnight before we got to midday
a dark and solemn way into the weekend,
almost a funeral and that should not be,
said the funeral director at five minutes past
three.

Down in the wishing well,
well somebody needs to be
to collect all those coins
which I wished
I wished for me.

And cue the genie
yes!
he's seen me
now
I have wishes galore
well,
three
maybe more.

unreliable evidence or
irrefutable truth?
it's all proof
and
if that's what you need
use it.

'One way or another',
said Cain.
'I will **** my brother'

again and again,

the old God
smote more in
the olden days,
there was
lots more sinners
back then,
now
the new God
gives detention
with
the occasional smite
which is quite alright,
but only
now and again.

Do you feel threatened
by biblical scriptures?
or the rapture of love
on the run?
would you like to sit tight
against the barrel of night
and be shot full of lead
by its gun?

The eight forty two into Waterloo
was running six minutes behind
and at eight forty eight
being six minutes late
my eyes opened only to find
the unreliable evidence of an
irrefutable truth.

History makes its own decisions
and
we have little to say,
your history tomorrow
is not the history of
yesterday.

Wake in morning blue
take a moment
things to do,
Shopping,
popping in to friends,
morning blue begins
but ends and
in the end when day
would send the knight
in shining armour, to dampen
down its light,
I might
reflect and more in thought suspect
that this was all
a dream.

and now no end in sight
I light my final
cigarette

the door is locked
the curtains drawn

I was born
don't know why
and now I'll die

the hand that takes the blade
is shaking slightly.

A thought,
how the mighty fall
and in all honesty
I have to ask, '
How?


I'll be here when the cows come home and how is that possible?
I'm asking myself because I live in the city but go back to the country
for answers to questions I ask and the air is clearer there.

I light another final smoke because I'm not good at being final and
put a vinyl on the record deck,
Brubeck,
it's a good choice.


Poison,
that's a chalice we take sips from
the pills that we fly trips on

I take these shots on the chin
another final spin
get ready
begin

Do I remember how?
you bet I do.

We're making false Gods from
the idols
of alcohol and drugs,
suicidals and cases in
psych wards
go backwards into
side wards and pray,
the antichrist is on holiday
but his stand-in stands in for him
things have never looked better
if
you believe in that ****.

taking the time out to time out
thinking
this isn't the line up
but the time's up
and we're *******.

Now I'm just the actor
But once
Yes once
I was the biggest malefactor you would never wish to meet.
Down my street
Where the sun did not shine
And what may have been yours, so quickly was mine
Where even the clock did not tick.
Life was cheap,life was sick.

The choices in my head
The voices that spoke loud and said,
**** em.
Real gems of wisdom from the walking dead.
Fed and feeding on the endless needing
Where the night's are weeding out the dross
Didn't give a monkey's or a toss.
**** em.

She beckoned me.
She beckoned me here and like a demanding lover
She led me to gear.
Fear knows the chains
Has felt more of the pains that I'll ever know.

Taking it slow now
Kicked out the lover how
She whined
Chimed in with taunts.
Undaunted I carried on
Now that old lover's gone and I am not.

The plot seems to thicken
Between the devil and the deep
The minutes appear to quicken
But time stays the same
Trapped in a pearl picture frame in a locket.
It's in my pocket with the shreds of the past
At last.

I'm glad that God can take a joke,
have a laugh and who knows,
maybe just a little ****,
but
here I am just blowing smoke,
ran out of soap
hence no bubbles.

If there really is a hell
where demons plague
you with a thousand times
the torments of your times,
where no sun shines,
I hope Satan takes the joke
as well.

Wotcha doin' in the ruin of the face from yesterday?
grey and sallow,
deep, but somehow shallow,
shadows playing tricks on me.

Twenty-one thousand moons have been and gone
and I go on,
no candles on this cake of soap.

Hope lays brewin' in the ruin and the
thoughts of yesterday,
simmer,
simmer
until they simmer away.

As the evening falls I will follow it down
through the dimly lit corridors
into old London Town.

the bright lights aware of me
shake quite magnificently
I lift up my eyes to see
stars.

When the fix is in and
the bars have gone
the only way forward is
to get up and move on.

The night draws pictures in the sky
why does it feel like
I'm 'etch a sketch?'
when I am just a poor wretch
making his way home.