What you can do
if you can
is get through this
as a man.

Easier than it sounds when the ground's
always opening up to swallow you
and you
want people to follow you?
you must be joking.

if you look good you'll do good
and I could believe what I've read,
if I sat with a bucket on my head
I really could believe it.

But we do as we do or
we don't
and more often than not
we shoot the messenger
not
because we don't like the message
we
just don't like the messenger.

What bothers me is
what part of art and I
wonder where do I start
to paint the
picture.

Making a stopover at the Bow flyover
finding a place for the night

a wooden seat to perch on
next to the
church on
Mile End road.

This may be a blessing
but
God keeps me guessing
and I feel I'm
no nearer to him or to thee
whomsoever him or thee
may be.

Next to the gravestones which are
weather worn and grey
( say! I look the same)

I am but a name in the register
to be struck out as I struck out

When your luck's out life *****

I only draw in a breath for death
to draw closer to me
I want to see it coming.

God and his crew always know what to do and send the sunlight to heal all my woes

I take to my toes and leave Bow far behind me and am sure that god knows if he wants where to find me
or
I may find myself.

Kiss and make up
from where we left off.

They shot the old man on the
steps to the Verandah
and grandma in her rocking chair
didn't hear
but old people seldom do.

A case of mistaken identity
they dreamt up a man
never meant to be
and shot him point blank
very casually
it seems to me

we should kiss and make up
from where we left off.

Waste colors on me
canvas with a hole

Prefrontal cortex
Unplugged

Pulled the last thread
Unravel

Travel through time
A nomad girl.
Smoke from the ashes:

A beautiful curl

The rainbow fell into the consommé,
the night turned the day and the
cards went my way
it was normal some say in
the madhouse

and then there was work
the foibles, the quirks
the bright sparks
the gormless
the sharks

and while Hawkin's talking of quarks
and quasars
all I get
is quizzical, looks from the
bar staff and waiters.

It's no wonder the soup's getting cold
and less wondering why
because it all seems so old
or could be it's
possibly me.

backwards to front and off on the hunt
for the unicorn

If you believe that they're real
then they're real
but
only the mad stop in Potsdam

she offers me tea and temperance
and in an attitude of complete
indifference
I down one more for the road,

.. and I thought they were smoking, on drugs or just joking when they  were speaking to me

but the blue clouds lingered there,
I had to tear myself away from the balance wheel to feel anything

the tune of time whistled by me
I started singing along
out through the wind tunnel and into the storm.

Form 4 C
back in the classroom and there's a set square on the table
teacher's not able to control me
and I am the truant again

and I thought it normal
the
Informal education

It was prostitution on a grand scale
we were for sale to the future and backed up against the past

But fast and foolhardy I hardly had chance to win at the pool hall before school came to catch me

The balance wheel pivots on the tip of a pin
if I turn and spin or smoke a joint I can almost see the point of it

Just joking
I can't see
nothing but
The
Bogeymen.

The culture call
let standards fall
we'll flag them up as mad.

I always was what I was not and not what I could be
I never saw destruction without that hint of glee,
I'm bad.

to gain respect one must expect
to do things properly,
by the book not
by hook or crook
or so
the tutor said to me.

But I was never meant to be
a guiding star or
a celebrity
not even sure if I was meant to be
me
but who is?

Sitting here with me
I tear apart
Push together
Build and destroy
Pain and pleasure
Because I can't stand it either way

Chain me down
Cut it out
My mind is round
Try to make it square

To you
It's not fair