There are galaxies in verses
a universe in words
a conversation in each abbreviation,
with comets of comma's and a
quagmire of quasars
laser lights to brighten faces that
lighten up my day.
So many permutations
within
the alphabet of
constellations
it's hard to know where to begin upon
this spinning wheel.

I'll
I'll
I'll
I'll
I'll
I'll
I'll
I'll

On the bed sheets
or
the rap sheets
it's
a ***** shoot.

I practise limping
for
when I am limp.

In the boatel which is a
hotel on water
I taught myself to type,
the letters always came out wavy.

The only motion we know is fast
forward and slow down the tape,

the masked man in his cape is
climbing my walls
which makes a nice change from
it being me.

Dear dream
I knew you were not
what you seemed
when I dreamed of you
and
screamed at you,
but I still dreamed you.

You can pray for the Christians,
Jews, and Zoroastrians,

pray for the faithful
the unfaithful
the weak and the dreadful
the wickedly sinful
and
there are places of worship
in places of worship,
places where they've always been

but the one I call God
is on furlough,

How they get at us
is when
we update our status,
that
constant spying
Facebook prying
it's all very trying
and
I'd go fishin'
but she says no.

There's always one more bell
one more clang
one more just rang
why does Sunday feel like hell?
there's always one more bell.

'seconds out', round two,

what to do?
go to church
take a pew
listen to the Christian
point of view
what to do?

If he bled for me
which led to me
being nonplussed
when it's said to me,
that
what is will be
deservedly,
I reserve the right
to question
the formulae he used.

Because
deception's rife in this
'ere life
nothing has face value
so
I ask him to task him to
tell me a truth
before the bell rings one
more time.

Blood in the arteries,
I hear
thunder and part of me's
deafened.

She
finds me
stumbling,
I think I'm
crumbling,but
the blood is still
rumbling through me

You can agree to disagree with me.
or
split those things called hairs with me
but
let's get to the gist of it
write it down and
make a list,
it
clears the air

but to be fair
it's six of one
and
the other's forgotten
when there's none
and
by none I mean
one accord.

so
let's kiss and we can make up
take up where we
left off.

agree to disagree
we
sometimes
do.

The sausages looked so serene
sandwiched between
two slices of bread,
I led them to the breakfast plate
said grace and ate
heartily,

if there's a sausage heaven
I hope that they'll forgive me.

She was drinking whiskey
when I asked
how much she'd missed me
and in five seconds which it took
to pour another
I wished her luck
and said farewell.

Too many monkeys
make much more
than a circus and
though I adore her
I can't be there
as her clown.

No one can understand the enormity
of
living on the street
we
are the problem that our children learn to fear.

Never there or anywhere but here
we are.

And you can discard what you have been taught
when
like us,
you have been caught
in the trap.

It is what they told you,
cold and uncaring
it wears people down and
they flicker
(for a time)
and die out.

You don't have to like them, that's
not part of the program and
when you don't understand them
you've got no chance to know them.

I know and dislike them
I've been them,
I can,
but that's part of the problem
of becoming the man
you can be.

I want that boat on the beach
the one just out of reach of the tide
the one on its side with the planking all bust

I can hide in there and rust along with it.

Something out there is dragging me
to where I do not know,
but it seems to be full of darkness
and I do not want to go.

Here's the story told to me about our glorious infantry.

Louts,rapscallions,friends battalions
arm in arm and full of glee
marching off to join the infantry.

In the rear lines drinking fine wines,hock,moselle,some burgundy
and some drinking ginseng flavoured tea from some far flung idea of Empire
while only half a mile along the road the whole world was on fire,
were the fat arsed generals with their horses, waiting on their second courses,
crepes and franzipans and to a man they didn't care that the war was waiting there,
'let the ******* wait',they'd say,
after all that was the gentlemanly way.

The bullets striped us left to right and falling into our own falling ***** we'd call for mum and dad
aye lads
aye lads
war is bad
but for the buggers at the rear who never so much as once came near the sound of a gun,
war was fun a chance to socialise,
society is full of lies and leaders they were not.
But death's got their number on his shell,they'll soon be joining us in hell,
so ****** them and sod the lot
were in a spot,we'll not get home,splintered bone and mangled limb and corporal thinks it's still a sin to swear
well ****** him as well,we no longer care.
As we share a final smoke,Johnny tells his favourite joke about three generals and some place called,but I forget the punch line as the time has come for one more bullet,one more gun and silence.

In Croydon,Roydon and North of Watford Gap,families are spoon fed some wholesome krap from drip fed Sergeants,battle,shield and argent,honour King and all the other little things that the senselessness of death brings home.
Let them keep their fields filled full with glory,we know the ***** **** filled story,
war is bad
war is bad
I'm glad that I cant fight no more.

She,
wanted to share with me
some of her
genetic history
and who am I
to complain.

To hold on forever
to
never let her go,
is my dream.
She,
dreams it too.

Getting old, an acid tongue
I write for money
not for fun,

the joy has gone
along with youth,

I have wrinkles growing wrinkles
on my wrinkles
and that is the sad truth.

A bit of license used
because I get confused,

and now as I recall
this isn't me at all.

(20 minute poetry)


Some days we do it for ever and at times we don't do it at all,
why can't we just climb the mountain,
jump off the edge and be happy to fall,
in love's like a big jar of honey, energy mixed with the sweet, tastes better shared between lovers, when are you going to meet,
Yours and truly
fooling around's seldom funny, there's torment when you are alone,
Some days I do it for ever and at times I don't leave the home,
my heart is endlessly pulled into pieces, jigsaws we make on the floor,
but the picture it makes when it's finished
is the reason I write on for more and
Sometimes it feels like forever
Some days it's nothing at all
I wish I could climb up that mountain,
I'd leap and I'd fall and I'd never go back there,

Imagine for a minute
a hot bath and you're
in it,
soaking away the aches
of the day
and when you slowly open
your eyes
you come to realise
you're still stuck in a traffic
jam
somewhere south of Birmingham.

'I wandered lonely' not so proud
through crowds of hams and spambots crammed into my feed,

Dear Wordsworth, did you really need the nuts and bolts and faults of man to plan your poetry?
could you not see those daffodils have filled my day,why not sway down Epping way and look at trees,look at the wood?
I wish only, that you should give up those flaming daffodils for good,they make me sick,
please pick on some altogether different topics
preferably out in the tropics.

your humble servant,
quite indifferent
j.

Endlessly nowhere,
but we'd all like to be
back there
in the somewhere we
all made a difference

but the claymore got more
than it bargained for
when it made the deal with
the devil and the deep

anytime is a good time to float
on the waves of a memory

We are Vietnam to a man
a BBC filler before the late
evening thriller
which kills us anyway

and I recall
the evenings when the soft
lights were fading
and the streets came alive to
the sound of my neighbours
parading their wares

that was the difference
back there in the
endlessly nowhere
back when we lived as
if the end wouldn't come

it comes
I know it now.

Thinking of waiting for that moment to happen until you realise that the moment has gone and your look shows it all, disappointment is written in the tears on your cheeks and you think of perhaps thinking too much and musing too long and the moment is gone yet again.

Violin music was made for this,
the sadness which came before you touched on bliss
before even a kiss had been planted and you wanted
the want of it and your mind was made up for it
and then the moment passed.

and the heartbreak of it is that we think too much on it
worrying about things over which we have no control.

When we grew out of them,
those
books like the Famous Five
and the Secret Seven
we understood that they were good
but not real,
which was another disappointment
to the inner child.

The lyric repeats on me,
in the Ghazal there is
mystery and
the lyric repeats on me
and repeats on me
and
more mystery,

in the South
a Mafeking calamity making
more history and still there's
the mystery
of the Ghazal.

It's not just one step
it's a flamin' big leap
but
if you manage to keep
your balance
you'll do fine.

Sunday
nine twenty-nine,
are you still doing fine,
has it got to you yet
are you feeling the heat?

after the kitchen
where do you go?
the bathroom
the lounge
the bedroom?
I know,
we're all tired
worn out and
where the comfort zone used to be
is now a war zone,
the family that rattles me
the dog hogging the armchair
where the hell am I?

or is this just me
feeling fed up.

No escape
you
either love or
we hate.

It's all so nice and clean and bright
they've even tarted up the night
how wonderful it is to be
a part of this
machinery.

I'm going to do my best for them
pay off my debts to faceless men
work my life in penury
a part of this
machinery.

and just before I die
I'll really
really try
to clock off

wouldn't want the miserable ***** to pay me overtime when my time's done
would I?

(20 minute poetry)

I an so ******* tempted to jump
I can feel the pump of my heart
beat to the lines on the track of the train
and at last I can be me again
if I jump to the beat

Actually that time is now gone
life carries me along but I am
so ******* not least because
these feelings I have
I have never understood
never felt so good as when
the darkness descends
but
it all depends on the
motion


I'm tired out now
worn away by the day
that wears me away

when I was Atlas
things were different.

Father Time is indifferent to me now
I'm approaching the midnight chime.

I once too was in my prime
prone to peccadilloes as most men are
far away now
the day's gone
the day's come

funny isn't it how you hang onto a burning match.

When Christmas comes early for them.

Do as I say and not as I do,
who's that remind you of then,
that funny looking geezer at
Number Ten,

it's the cabinet and
not the proletariat
that should  be slinging
their hook,
the worker never gets a look in,
a ******' liberty if
you ask me

I will run
towards the eclipse of a Sun,where
the night will possess me,where
the darkness will bless me.
A
black cloud descends on me when
nothing depends on me,and
this failure will always be on the
run to the Sun.

Once upon a time where the light had shone,
in the cornfields of youth where my ears heard
only the truth,
I
wondered one day would it all be gone,
I wonder no more,
and now,
there is blight here
no end to the night here and
the eclipse of the Sun becomes the light
as the gun explodes
in my hand.

(20 minute poetry)

Everything is possible

That first step is probably the hardest one.

The deeper you've been
makes the light seem
more inviting
and biting the bullet to
take that first step is exciting in a dreadful
sort of way.

Everything can possibly be
I look in the mirror and see
it's the truth.

When the lights go out and the wind whistles
when your head's so full of thistles and thorns
It's hard to believe
you can move on and leave it behind you.

and it
is what never finds you if you don't let it
back
in

everything is everywhere
that
you want it to be

I look in the mirror
locked into me
and see
it's the truth.

If criticism is nine points of the flaw
what are we fighting for?
peace and harmony?
unlikely,

strife is good
so good
there should be a strife club,
and the first rule of the strife club
is?

I'll leave that up to you.

Aluminium foil doesn't stop the signal from getting in to disrupt you, they fool you with that claptrap and you keep your mouth shut because you think you're fooling them.

We're being microwaved,
oxygen-starved and carved up
ready for their table
it's all about the signal,
everything is.

And you might think that the end of the World will look like the end of the World, it won't, it'll look like Primark does on Saturday, people falling over themselves to get what they can from the overstocked shelves.

There's thunder coming
and a storm approaching
I'm burying my head in
the sand.

It's a trap
albeit a sun one
and I'm getting
captured.

Earlier
I fell into the deck chair
which just happened to be where
I wanted it to be,
I also wanted the sea
but not many of those
in London.

Earlier fell away into
the afternoon where I lay
exhausted.

She came on the ship for me
took me home and made me tea
I'm not sure how the ship got to me
but sure it wasn't by sea.

The clock coughs up another minute and the day seems to think I should fit right in it,
but before seven, eyes closed, I'm outside the entrance to whatever heaven awaits me.

Tuesday.

Just when you get the hang of a day
it shifts and again you start floating away,
nothing is here to stay
everything moves on.

When I grow up I want to be
beyond the gawking at page three
and you young guys
won't realise
what I'm talking about,

ha
when your eyes are on stalks and
your tongue's hanging out
that's what I'm talking about.

The clock ticks off another hour
monotony,
reflections of my potbelly
a realisation that
I'm getting fat.

The tall guy
the know it all guy
ever wonder why
he becomes
the fall guy?

No one likes an upstart
except for his mum.

they'll build a monument
from those
they pried out from
the tenement
and yet
we'll give thanks
to the thieving banks
who foreclosed
on all our dreams.

Some say that the milky way is where the gods reside
I reserve my judgement
more by luck because I don't give a huckleberry where they live as long,as long as they give me,
hope that the stars will always shine
hope that the universe is mine
hope that they, divine
can see
just how divine
we are.

For a dear Mother,

I approach it
cautiously 
a wing and a
prayer 
comfort me,
she 
understands 
that
a mothers hands 
tear at me.

I never understood the 
line 
however fine it might be 
between 
the living proof 
and
mortality.

I thought she would live forever
and in memories 
I am sure that she will
and
still,
in my heart there's a part 
that will always be 
her 
' little soldier'

the moment is gone from me 
left in a cemetery 
lost to eternity.

elements,
that haunt me,

the approach I 
made
cautiously
and 
Is this to be 
my legacy?

The last breakfast.

The morning crumbled away 
and the afternoon struggled through the flashing of elvers in the high reaches of the river.
and along the banks where sand martins burrowed liked miners to build a home 
we borrowed a few more minutes to sit and rest.

Time had tired her 
and this is the truth,

but it is to sleep that we awake into another 
calmer place.

I watched her sun set until the room darkened and then became again full of light.

I am in limbo
and
who'll show me 
the way to go
now?

if I look 
behind me
do 
I find mei
looking ahead?

with questions that gnaw at me
when answers discourage me
I look once more behind me 
to see
Mother
who smiles at me 
and open
the doorway in front
of me,

this life carries its own light 
we are the shadows flitting
through the shade
only to 
fade
in the evening.

Whether sure or 
unsure 
the living go on 
and endure 
this is the way 
we hold onto
belief.

I approach it
cautiously
a wing and a
prayer
comfort me,
she
understands
that
a mothers hands
tear at me.

I never understood the
line
however fine it might be
between
the living proof
and
mortality.

I thought she would live forever
and in memories
I am sure that she will
and
still,
in my heart, there's a part
that will always be
her
' little soldier'
the moment is gone from me
left in a cemetery
lost to eternity.
elements,
that haunt me,
the approach I
made
cautiously
and
Is this to be
my legacy?

The last breakfast.

The morning crumbled away
and the afternoon struggled through the flashing of elvers in the high reaches of the river.
and along the banks where sand martins burrowed like miners to build a home,
we borrowed a few more minutes to sit and rest.
Time had tired her
and this is the truth,
but it is to sleep that we awake into another
calmer place.

I watched her sun set until the room darkened and then became again full of light.

I am in limbo
and
who'll show me
the way to go
now?
if I look
behind me
do
I find me
looking ahead?
with questions that gnaw at me
when answers discourage me
I look once more behind me
to see
Mother
who smiles at me
and open
the doorway in front
of me,

this life carries its own light
we are the shadows flitting
through the shade
only to
fade
in the evening.

Whether sure or
unsure
the living go on
and endure
this is the way
we hold onto
belief.

I struggled through the statuesque, the picturesque, the beautiful, the grotesque and arrived untarnished from the lies their pictures told.

fight them every day and fight them any way you can.

I watched an orange sun
bob on a turquoise sea,
watched and all for free
no pretence there to be
anything other than what
it was.

You think you've found a niche
capiche?
and yet nothing's the way that it seems.

It's just an exhaust pipe hype
and
they want you to **** in the fumes,
I'm locked in the cycle
darkness looms.

Suicide don't mean you're dead
it's just the death of dreams
and the sound of failure just ahead is
the locked room full of screams.

After the future has ****** ya and before the grim reaper gets ya
someone says,
' I told ya'
but
you knew that all along.

The longest day
the shortest night
she
might understand

the Moon and I are old friends.

I have often wondered why
If aliens truly do exist
Why don't they just
Drop by.

But then I look around me
At the scrabbling,babblings of those on the boundary
And I see
Why.

The reason that aliens don't drop from the sky
Is not because they're so very shy
It's because we're all full of it
In the pit of our own making
Taking what we can
What kind of man or alien would stop by and see
We,
Who are callous,indifferent and greedy
I do not think that anyone wants to see
Anything that needy.

So we'll stay alone
Yet the universe is burning with
Species that are learning
It all.

And even I fall into the trap
Calling Aliens,species
Is just krap.
That might be why
Aliens do not call in
And instead
Wave
Goodbye.