They never cared about me
there were no politicians atop
my Christmas tree
because I couldn't afford one,
score one for them, but then again
I never cared either.

Now they want to hold my hand and
take me down to vote,
they can kiss my,
but an oath gets stuck in my throat
and someone gives me the Heimlich
and I spit.

#yourfutureyourvoteuseit.

Oh I really am ******* and more than that I'm sick
of picking up the pieces of a broken promise made
and trying to stick them back together
as if the plan could not be laid to rest and
in time would rise to heal the rift.

**** it
life's a gift and you don't want to take a part in it?
**** for brains is all I can say and nothing other comes to mind.

Again in fractals do I find the patterns of this jumbly thing
this what brings me to despair and will
eventually
find me jumping from the landing light to light upon the banister
with a rope to twist my neck and
if life is the gift
who will lift me free from this darkness?

Liberty?
ha
just another *** to **** in
a jail for boys to get it on and kiss in

And again
I'm going fishin'
ask Tom Sawyer
he'll know where.

The duvet's in a ball and I'm falling into clean white sheets,she greets me,meets me halfway there.
I think I'll put my teddy bear, away
for now.

sometimes
I hide with the
monsters that
hide under the
bed.

Older than time and old even then,
the china clay hearts of the fragile young men.
Those who were burnt in the kiln at the start and who had no other option to join in and take part at the burning of..when was it a crime to be old?

I asked time but time wouldn't say,suggesting that time was itself made from clay and was yielding,
shielding myself from the heat of the day,under the will of the wisp there's a way where we men made of clay lay out of the sun.

I am done with bone china,I seek out something finer and am going away with my china clay heart, preparing to start something new.

Empty words on an empty page
and emptiness cannot
hold rage,
no passion there for me
nothing to scare me
just the emptiness of
an empty page.

I'm the actor on
a sawbuck stage
with
no audience
coincidence?
I think not so.

You can run into the sun
into the breaking of the day
but I can see you.

You can't deny the night inside you
when you want me there beside you
can you see me now?

What's on your mind Facebook?
find anything?

The girl at school led me behind the bike shed,
I thought to look at her bike
if I'd have known then what I know now
I'd have pressed 'like'

That was sometime in the last century but memory mentions me
now and again.

Ps
I'm on a train which is going quite fast
heading no doubt to the dim and distant,
just passed
Bethnal Green.

The city rears up like a tiger on heat
I get to my feet and scarper.

Cats stuck to window sills as languid as the rolling hills and craggy like the rocky tors
sheep sleeping underneath a portcullis of a sky
as steel grey clouds disguised as prison bars soothe
them gently with the Lakeland lullaby

I saw no Viking
but I did see hikers by the score
up the scree
scrambling up the tor

being me,
I wondered
what you doing that for?

Boats across the lake
too much
Kendal mint cake
and your jaws ache
take the Lilliputian train
we're toddlers
toddling off again

Such fun.

What were we like
her and me?

were we
pulsating with energy
as we
broke through the rainbow?

watching the others
watching the grass grow?

what were we like?

On the first rung
behind the gymnasium
where
she taught me to climb.

and in no time at all
there was no time at all.

I had a diary to keep
most of my thoughts in
she had a diet plan that
never kept us thin,

The National Geographic
I only read for the
pictures,
the passing scenery of
boys
by which I mean me.

There was no time at all
but
there was time for it all.

Fantasy surrounds me,
it dogs me and
it hounds me,
I wonder what I could be, if I escaped
these crazy, barking fantasies.
The contours that I see
are just another fantasy, where
ridges are to climb
I'll be,
sat on the edge of lunacy.
If these fantasies were real
then I,
would more than likely
die
of shock,
I can feel excitement out,inciting in,
to come and pin another fantasy
on me.
I should really knock this on the head but
then I wonder,
is being dead
another fantasy?

Until the end when counting sheep will send me off to sleep again,I rise and make my way through those painful moments, and each and every time I say,(if only to myself)today will be a better day,it never seems to be,but I live in hope,eventually the tide will turn and I will learn to fit the round pegs into squarish holes,slide down instead of climbing greasy poles,and I am sure the time will come when the sun will shine on me,it has to, realistically thinking odds,statistically,
but I shall wait and see, and see it hopefully,
eventually.

I wrote my love letters on Rizla's and watched the smoke from them rise with something akin to tears in my eyes,
now what?

to hell with 'em
I'll scribe my love on sheets of vellum,
let the animal rights man
have sleepless nights
thinking of how bad I am.

There's a wall in the City
with these words written on it,
'Pity the Poor'
there are several bricks missing
and there's always a dog ******* up against it
,
I'm not sure why it's there
or what its purpose could be,
but I think
it's just a bit of
spray can charity
to make people feel good
about themselves.

I'm slipping away and far too often
jumping through tenses as I used
to jump fences,

the,  and then it eludes me
another line was lost,  
but you never get anything for nothing unless you get told something for nothing which sometimes doesn't mean anything at all.

I'm still thinking about the wall.

The sticklebacks make fast tracks darting
here,everywhere but there's big fish
in this lake, who take
no prisoners.
Jack pike and perch like you
would not believe,bream and dace but
what seems out of place is the shark.
I know a shark in a lake in a park is quite rare
but it's there all the same.
A game fish indeed just itching to feed
on the small fry.

He just wants to lay on the beach
with his belly so fat he can't see to
teach his toes how to tingle
and then wonders why
he's still a single guy.

The gymnasium's next to the aquarium
but he's a fish out of water
can't breathe at the thought of
exercise.

One day the tide will come in
attached to a ******' big fin
and the shark underneath
will be the finish
of him.

A bit mystical
or like
flamenco on the
classical
and it's
all beyond me.

I try to hotwire some
love from
the bush that's on fire
while Moses,
a face set like stone
stood all alone
takes tablets
for his
indigestion.

And I have a question
for him
unformulated as yet,
but I don't want to forget so
I write him a memo,

somehow in Toledo where
the steel is so sharp
a girl plays the harp at
the feet of Cervantes
and the windmills go round
in my head.

Flowers that blossom
roses that bloom
always seem to make room
for the weeds.

What then will man become
but the lengthening shadows
dancing along the edge of the sun
and when the day is done..
will it have been worthwhile
will those moments we took in the hook of the light
become more than the minutes that look into the night
or will we die
with your name on our lips?
Will you smother me in the pillows that slip through the fingers that want me to touch and you want me as much as I wanted you
Is this what the dancing of shadows will do
as they pass
do you dance with the light
did I do it all right
did it make you want to kiss me and hold me in your arms would you enfold me
would that I told you I loved you
but that's not what men do
and who is the loser
who chooses the wrong road
and the load that we bear
would not be heavy if only you were there
and where am I
where?

Bluebells
in tune
with
nature.

Time
slips in
to
cash all my
chips in

this casino is closed.

The night carries on
in
the back streets of
so long as the
door opens up on
the day.

Carried away,
a press release

rest in peace

It should never be so
when there are more dice
to throw.

I'm going to go
fishing.

Teddy got ready
and I got set,
but neither of us wanted
to go to bed just yet.

Mother switched the light off
anyway.

It's always
some time,
this time
next time
last time
what time
that time
and yet
no one has the time
until it's gone.

Let's see who's got
the
lightest fingers
who can get them in
the tightest places?

Faces?
I've had enough of them,
unqualified kids who
like to think they are men
and men
who are still in puberty
aged forty three!

who sold it though
to the highest bidder?

I've got rid of a life waiting for this,
the 'Glasgow kiss'
the 'Johnny Kwango' headbutt
the one fall, submit or die,
Billy Two Rivers
sending shivers like ripples
that made my ******* *****

Oops, suspect what you want, but
live a lie with one hand tied
behind your back
and you become
a one armed man.

too obvious?
try this,
or
**** orf
if ya don't like it.

Row mania.

someone stole the light at
the end of the tunnel and
pickled it with red cabbage,
the salad option,

I have no opinion
you don't pay me for those
you can't afford me anyway.


we will wait and see
unless time plays
the joker.

I'm in the red corner
( politically stressed)
clinically depressed
messed up
cussed out
and all this for enough
snout to take a break
and have a smoke
but
it's all ******* and
we all know it

the problem is,
when they tell you
it ain't **** you're shovelling
and you believe it.

And if the good Lord's truly looking down on me
why didn't he give me the numbers for the lottery?

it jusr proves to me that he's really a she and I must
have done something wrong,

if we're all reading from the same sheet
tell me the name of the song?
see!
we ain't are we?

I am already ready for bed
can't get the fog to lift
think I'll just sink or
sink into thinking
thoughts goung round
in my head.

'What time is it', said the wolf
ROADKILL! said I,
because we're all going back
to the wild.

The gentle peal
of the bells
make it feel
like
Christmas.

Shall I begin?
tea or coffee?
flip a coin
heads I win
also
tails I win too
she says,
you cheat.

running a bath!
easy peasy
exercise makes me laugh,

the mirror makes me cry
because
I am an
in-touch with my feminine side
kind of guy.

Friday, you say,
and
Fridays are okay
but we don't get enough
of them.

Someplace remember
some places forget
I get tired with the replays
of old pals back in them
days
I look out for the new
but
we do as we do and
I remember.

Frankie was fifteen when he died
no one tried to save him
save
the one who couldn't save
himself
but he was selfish and
did save himself
eventually.

Some places forget
someplace remember?
I do
every one of them.

He's bright and breezy
I think
that he's me,
but
I can never be certain.

I was thinking of you
the way that men do
not blue though
just you though
in my thoughts.

What will you do when the day's nearly done
when the moon reaches out to touch the sun
will you stand and look around
will you stay your ground
what will you do when the day's nearly done?

The poverty stricken
lick their wounds
for a living,
some things are
never set right.

Got to rise above the noise
entertain,
and **** them boys with beer for brains
we don't have time
we don't have space
so if I'm foaming inyer face
dontya worry none.
I'll soon be gone, a
distant memory.

I hope I haunt your dreams
I hope that my screams wake you in a sweat
or better yet
don't wake you up at all, and you
hear me and my poetry, constantly,
and let the day begin.

The road will end and I will mend my ways
ifenyou believe that.

#error 404, refer to supplier

The world turned upside round and inside,sideways all ways ,we thought 'end of days'
passion plays,walk this way,do not pass go,but don't you know
we got it wrong.
The long view,short term payments overdue and none of it was meant for you,the car crash,whiplash,no cash bank dash, was in the plan and ban the bomb was just a dream,
beam me up.

Star trek took my life away,it felt so real but here's the deal that came,we took a life apart and frame by frame we pictured it in antilogs,sour breath dogs that made us heave and leaving all of that aside we still got in and took the ride into the night shock,dead lock and when the **** crowed thrice and the dice were thrown and the dethroned king put a ring on the hand of misery,star trek was still there for me,and it was still the fantasy of sailing in the sea of comets,stars,and floating points which mathematicians would have us know that after this there is nowhere else to go,
and I scream integers
for no other reason than it sounds good but it would in the vacuums of empty columns,where Columbus never imagined a sea beyond any ocean he sailed and the Southern lights flailed against the majesty of what he could not see.

This is what we and by we, I generally mean me has got on his mind at twenty past three when the day has already bled its unkindness on me and my head,by waking me from a sleep,which is like waking the dead and in the waking I read the signs laid out in letters fourteen inches high being scrolled slowly across my inner eye and the sky looks black,I'd go back to sleep but the crowing of the **** keeps me awake.
I ache for a minute where the seconds are in it for me
I cry for that moment, when I cry out and see what the future holds and what's in it for me,but it's three twenty five and more dead than alive with a price on the life that I've led,
I get back into bed,to be sped off again in a no loss no gain kind of autopsy blue.

There is nothing to do with the process of me being no less than no more I could be,let
Columbus sail his sea and I'll sail along mine in time we are one,
or we are no one.
I just can't decide if Star trek is the ride that I want.

So Danger Dave, ( one of the great head chefs) messaged me to ask if I could write something about a homeless Welsh Crack smoker in Reading, someone he knows and gives assistance to, I at first told him, in about a week, when are you going? his answer, I'll be there in an hour, anyway he dropped me a few details and the result.

5 minute poetry.

Homeless in Reading?
what a dump
not exactly Wapping
or Caernarvon,

but get yer skates on
there's a special on
crack *******

oh no
****'s done it again
blown all his giro to
pull smoke through a biro.

I suggested a beer
he said,
no ******* fear
drink's bad for you

Danger Dave is out to save
but Dave is always saving someone
or cooking up something
or just being ******* fabulous.

Nero's near,
Romans ain't arf queer
but their coffee's okay

**** calls it a day
in Gaelic and
I can't understand a word
of it.

When time stands still and the world ceases to spin
when daylight never comes because this night won't let it in
and the beating in my brain is beating faster than my heart
and the oceans swell inside me
it is then I'll know this is the start
of something truly
great.

Trying to find a reason to get out of bed,
failing.

setting my sights to the lowest setting
sounds like a good idea,

I might sleep or I might not
didn't get a lot last night
but I suppose
( which I suppose I have to)
that I'll grab a coffee
nab a copy of the metro
and go to work,

Friday.

They're tucking into their kedgeree
full of joy and drunk on glee
and all I see
is **** all for me,
big it up for welfare reform,
deprivation becomes the norm,
some days I wish I'd never been born,
they're tucking into their kedgeree
but I'm ******* certain there'll
be **** all for me.

It's quiet at six
Before the slickness of the easy day comes out to lay..
..its traps.
And I wrapped up in a dufflecoat
Sail out on the street as if in a boat..
..gliding..sliding..riding the waves of snow.
I shall not slip
I have a grip on things

Winter brings me so much joy
Once..
..I didn't like the cold..preferred the warmer climes
How times change..how lines rearrange the face of man
And now..as happy as I am and can possibly be
Free to build..freed fulfilled.
I listen to the sound within the sound of six o-clock
The quiet knock..
Which..will one day arrive to tap upon this door
When silence is the more or less
And I confess..I listen very carefully..a bit of apprehension..see

Today is not that day and that lays easy on my mind.
So many things to search..to find
The glowing of my nose tells me the snow's still falling
Calling me to play..make hay...Another day..
And again it's six o-clock.

The things sent to try me
flew by me,
the past went so fast and
the future won't last
very long

bleak?

I streaked like blue lightning
across the darkening storm clouds
and was fished out of the river
spent,
the past went so fast.

My gunpowder was louder when
I was young and stood prouder,
the cordite was alright until age
wrote the page on the face of this cliff.

and stiff are the joints
which all points
to a solidified end.

a bit like directions to Scunthorpe
which is.
somewhere up North.

Release for peace, you
have to let go and melt
like the snow melts, have
you ever felt so free?

In the space of a minute where
every second's a mile,
it's getting harder and harder to
smile at the antics when politics
are the tricks that Parliaments
play on you, but
you have to release to
find peace,
you have to let go.

When the day stretches out
like a big rubber band and
is ready to snap back and bite
at the hand that feeds it,
do you need it?
release for the peace that
will free you.

And another sing a long, what the *** is wrong with people?
It's not even twenty past five.

The tube sounds a bit rough
I look even rougher
but
It's not a race.

Let's face it
Wednesday is only here
because it fits in.

Carriage is full
and we are being
pulled along
might as well join in
with the sing song
even if I don't know
the words.

You may sink
You may swim
but to do
either, you have
to jump in.

I don't think we know how far this government will go but we know how far they have gone and that's about as far as it's long or maybe a little bit wider,
and for saying that, Her Majesty seeks the pleasure of my company
for quite some time,
if only I'd known it was that easy to crash a bash at the palace.

If blood could talk instead of bleeding
we'd be needing more
if blood could walk instead of flowing down the streets in Palestine
that would be a sign
to walk away,
but it lays lightly in the veins,down the drain,
these times surely are the times insane.
what gain inflicting sorrow, pain that numbs the brain,
more blood dripping down the drain,
blood that never knew the reason why the sky rained
death upon the children,hear them cry,
One more Jerusalem?
God knows we've had enough of them and
still the men in pinstripe suits pick up the guns and shoot
to ****,
another will of God?
how odd that God is love yet death rains down from up above.
When will free will decide to override this never ending tide of man the beast?
can we at least have a moratorium on war
I'm all for
that.