baby seagull hides
under a bench
mother sits on wall

rolling a tulip.
gone.
eyes soft. heads nod.

walls of alabaster layered cave
hazy bodies litter rave.

i am folded: foldin rizla blue
first a pocket by lick the glue.

toast some bensons
add in some resin.

filled and build over tube.
sweet trick, the petal, dude.

small tribe makes the ground
that the tulip travels around

gentle rising on
a hillside
lift for above

west wind on
sermons
guilt from above

raptor in eerie
scours
feeds high above

crows in white
collars
preach of the above

song gives wings
to charm an above

scratches marr the mirror
rain rivers my window

so much is tangential
in my view.

my yearn is to know
truth
learned from fidelity

what substance have I
when straight ahead is rivered
and reflection scoures
me

sinews taut running
tendons stringing muscle
to bone

armour front
and haunches
lowered menace
mechanised into form :
fangs
spittle
ears flat
eyes adrenaline wide.

viscous red tongue venting
between growls
gut deep.

yet and twisted

rolled on side the
frame is supine. flattening
hair stiffened to bulk
to frighten

hormone rush is now quivering,
racing pulse and, throbbing
veins exposed under
flesh shy of bone.

near gutless .meat offered
to fangs wet with it's blood.
ears folded hear the howl.
there is silence and
a final pathetic yelp.
platitudes.
To the pack standing
in lines witness will departing
in the
blooding of a king.

something preposterous
to come across of us
heading for the sea

a pink diplodocus's
skipping home for tea

scratched my eyes raw
shifted perspective.

sky is transformed
into cathedral's ceiling

a building symphony filled
my ears. such music.

phony senses have
created reality.

but there is pavement
and, lampost and,
dog ****

lips part, two strings, the puppet master yanks
in eager yearning to see her smile,
he laughs at the blood spilling down her cheeks
she laughs back. spitting and swallowing in turn
biting on hooks. shift to point; she spins.
wires tense straining at any held purpose.

gritted and mounted to station wires
cut deep into flesh, fat through bone
until cracking free to fly with severed
manipulators and flowing blood.

the stage set slippery. sanguine
Bambi skids and falls. Disney
without the artifice. The mother seen
to die the exhilaration of death vivid
in the killers eyes.

the final cut. hooks join chummed
with jowl and tongue.

as one the audience stand.
****** silent.
faces lit with praise are but stitched arcs
applause a vacancy of hands.



............................
The writers Iniquity and MrQuipty
collaborate again
©

crushed fruits
ferments to wine
barrel makes flavours

as so, are we concocted,
and coopered by love

vermin hands in salutation
to the first martyr

take me ,as he, as lesson
to the children

***** wings on angels
bare, carry away sin
and virtue

dust falling from dry eyes:
have no wet
for you
street imp

rain here by ransomed
drafts from warmer
continents

my space is chaffed
by the hidden soil
trailed from used
oceans

i, see

a stranded twirl
of stone pesce tail

still magic
despite miles
despite age
spites my eyes
spites vanity
bites
me

there. i am beguiled, so stand,
as i too wear into sand

red, yellow, blue sore saucers glaring in light
some rewards of flight from a dark night.
weeping a little in my honeyed bed.
haematoma proof of the love you bled.

tender sacrifice under arc in flight.
the sting of conquester’s wing, a slight
on your grace and features that will bring:
no scream but in colours you'll sing.

the rhythm. a slap, a punch, a slap, slap
you collapse and welcome into open flap
it's sting, ****** of stamen into stigma.
a death most welcome in heat of day

when, in killing bed,your sisters heralds
good King Chloris in the closing chorus.

a dancefloor all blue
dancers shadowed white
process on a current
tuned by spotlight

red yellow blue saucers

in my honey bed.


haematoma proof

of the love you just bled.


sacrificed under arc in flight.

the sting of conquester's wing.


never did you scream but in

colours did sing


to your sisters heralded

Chloris in the dying chorus

shadows slumber as the sun
goes down oversized by a sky
made in a shimmering dusk.

beside me there is your heat.
suddenly sultry moist as the
days sweat cools on my skin.

you turn . orange light makes
lips' pinks ochre to a shade
covering pearls.

**** your eyes as they
read intention . you
arch and curl a lip slowly
to reveal blood coveting
ivory.


i am both drained to dust
and, dripping beads urging
to necklace with ivory and
pearls,
as
you finish the smile on my neck
and
complete the
dark.

molasses with the stink of gangrene
blisters from the wound;
it will not run

foul slow swelling putrescence
of plasma and, past cells
can only be lanced

it will not run.

congealed crust of scab
and keratin strands
is shield for eyes
and, the point.

it will not run.

people cower
under a liberty
sky
sunken by a
war of fear.
lost and
counted in
innocent corpses.

nothing but empty vessels
sounding of each other

clash of will and ideology
would bring progress

it is their hollowness that
makes the volume.

made from paper promises
used to secure debt.

written off against the bribe
taken to represent
desire of blind stocks.

not the wants of people.

the noise is with the monster
muscled by limited liability
and beau-tied by advertorial

a Victor lost his life to a monster.
we fellows, as corps. are larger
than states and, nations now are
subject under law to them, will be
consumed by

what we've bought.

almond eyes lowered under cover.
hands stained red with dirt are held.
wantonly, widows lift veils, waiting
for sheet flagging a ****** crossing

morning star
Venus falls into
fiery sunrise

Lucifer rises
from embers of the day

loneliest vigil I have ever seen repeated
crumpled by neglect it's weight seated
in self scorn and mirrored in signs
iterated in his brothers' eyes.

move on 'cause I've hurt the scene
they spotted that past being
of below all view and prone
exposed given a penny, a bone.

a moment stretched by same inflection
a parallel mirrors reflection reflection.
i, looker, am in that view light tied
and there a fraternity fixed resides

yes. stop I did and did devour
that set to review in every hour

green covered in brown

a tease wears her wooden dress

swelling in sun

dust the dark with
product.
the ash of
forest fires

wood.
never so vital
as when the wet
tips rise
through the
dark mat.

a making of trees.

limbs made a
nest
a place of
passion
passages
gorged by fingers
and tongues
lingam taught
against swollen
cells.

falling trunks
felled beings
alight
all
night

flaming torches in scattered line held high
crowd shouted back behind a safety line
celebrants, ministers officiate in stripes


dressed darkly to intimidate memories of war
red suited stranger rides along devil's tails
splitting ****** for laffs and noise spitting
arc light ahead of spent charred bullet case



screams evoked. stifles laughter as the smoke
evokes the War in mud so here : sticks are rifles.
over amplified comes over as cod eulogy flashes
the ears while sincerity plays out the church gate

we stand flickering eyed



"Feed the World ..."

murders silence

saviours hurry

"Turn it off, Harry"



Peace after a slowed to halt drum
Torches squared parafin trickle
air with smokey wax and uncertain
light that makes black to meet
the dark


poppies burn by the church gate


plans broken into an atrocious
conflict of split fuses sputtering
orange stars into painted skulls


burning splints takes cordite's place
making the air like thick magasines
filled with dum-dum bullets. homages
to horror waiting for the drum .


march.

the parade moves starkly on

cowboys

then

pearls

and

Devils tail.

a twisted
fence
our place to
hide
galaxies.

tadpole and
black-eye
just two

on a paper
we that
night fold
and intern
names.

ultra spectral radiance
captured in faceted
eye

lure, in curve, of stoop
stops
looping flight

here is sweetness
to be teased.
I will wet you
then
redress.

now I am favoured
go savour, honey.

elephant silently
steps past
slumbering
baby
by
trees,
by
wind,
humming
lullabies.

trashed hormones and so I go
deeper red . no skin.

just me spaced on your lips.
parted slightly. pink tip
catching against hard mouth

too far to hear.
to near to deny.

look.

i'm feeling marigold.
zesty , Sun like
and

hoping you eat flowers

spun sugar filaments in a silver bowl
lights blink out-of-time between
music
over-loud
over-layers
ride
to fairground
ride

'bit wrong' artwork for eight year olds
steal scenes from archetypes
of
last centuries Hollywood

eager faces watch
sugar grow

(fresh spun - waltzers
bash crashed belts on - dodgems
polyestered rabbit - hook a duck)

learn candy floss pink

comes out of plastic bottles

some kind of permanence
a ****** in the
woods

slow decomposition
tender restoration

it's place a drift
as if
coalescence made it
float through trees

within. the charcoal maker
the makers wife
and scurrying creatures
with feet and paws

without. smoke. wisps of
first industry leading to
harvested piles seasoning
by breathing clamps.

points of turf covering
designed stacks. an inferno
strangled by it's master
briar hanging loosely
tasting tobacco while listening
for betraying crackles and looking
for beacons of yellow showing as cracks
in dried earth.

fire here is burning money.
burning time

they have none to spare

behind him stacked in sacks
charcoal dry and ready for
Jack the cannon maker.

where finally the fire suppressed by
the maker would burn in forced
air with anger enough to
melt iron. Blast the sky with
sparks and toast Jack's leather.

in the woods the smoke rise and fell
while the master
vent
seals
vent
seals

the whispering clamps
in a clearing.

meat in your caustic
cell has been saponified. 
the cleansing of laboured
love by dissolution.

essential chains broken 
because you were stained.

the burning heat of lust
tossed into a chemical soup
where passion passed for
addiction and fidelity was
a *****.

you clean. stand tall.
on the wax of my bones

swiftly passes occluded light
when high currents shift.
not excluded, at night,
yet their volume drift.

not seeing your draught
he was wrapped in the eddy.
how i laughed
the gloom so steady.

too many dancers on stage
lit poorly for tryst parade

swiftly passes some grey occluded light
when temperature and high currents shift.
not excluded; that worried moon at night,
yet their voluminous nothings drift.


happenchance that such collisions can wreck
the fusion made dance of light and heat.
a silent complicity has no check
to balance this pirouette of deceit.


not seeing the empty left by your draught
he is all rapt in the swirling eddy.
trapped with me now giddy and, mad laughter
in the blooming gloom, casting shadows, steady.


we,too much like drab dancers on a stage,
lit tragically for such a tryst parade.

summer pendulums
in pink from
pints of rainbows

scuttles, yellow, drop
fine strands of
honey in bins

transits of ochre
dead spill
wads like corn

hot and popped
in a bucket

brush loaded wet
recovers wall
shimmered wet

erratic and fast
ivy pullovers
race crazy leaves

volumes of cloth
wrap neutered
the wildest cotton

print detail
in Paisley
or frond

birds brown have
red berries as
cheeks

radiance picked
bright
in late autumn light

on our colour street.

self indulgence the poet's
right
or plunder.

colliding emotions
into passages
set drifting off
flounder into
minds

and

canker in their own juices

until

they monster out
reborn in another .
alien eruption
howling of what loss?

fine, poet, to spew
into your mouth.
to purge.
swallow.

ruminate and then compose
Your self.

tables claim street
space
shaped like sheep
pens

foxy shepherdess
orders me
Mr Wolf marks
my card

economics of
ergonomics in consumption

smug as June's rose.
pumped up pride.
there she goes
with
sisters side to side.
hands clenched as fist
and holding feathers
white. The gist:
'cause you shame
our fighting brothers.

eyes are haunted
though.
the love she
hides for other
than her soldier
in Flanders
who beats her
sore
when ashore.

so brave, bearer of white feathers,
where is your courage tethered.

ragged complexion nearly
distracts from his eyes
the staccato of his limbs
semaphores his battle with
demons

I urge him silently to shout them out

it shames me deeply
and my turn to blot
my skin weak.

like a human stutter the
crippling in him carried
him away

too slowly

crossing the road in looking
back my demons
play patacake on my  spine

placed in hand tenderly
and double squeezed
security

the bond ready to test
road crossing
duress

heads, pairs of eyes
scan and swivel
on senses relies

bigger foot hovers
little starts the
bother

of learning to cross
from his big brother

lustre worthy
of Murano
and industry
too

desire of the
impossible light
in glass that
crystals it's edges
is absent

want

is the song.
the pure note
of blown
glass.

music made
when gently
struck
in time with
ebb and flow
of it's water.

sing. I am response.

hidden high
a barrels' smoke drifts
hatred spills
on streets marched
white with black, is red

sliding excuse
again
sidling nearer
gin
in hand.

a mess. sodden
and part ******
for what
you call you
or what
they call you.

matters naught
to innocents.
eyes tell hearts
only what is
taught

by mind.

my child knows
only of tumbling
and faces messy
from trembling
in joy.

you are the happiest
person in the world
of his heart.

shingle
varnished
by seawater
fade as
dried salts
prove the
Sun's mettle

hungry
children
by beach play
quieten
when chips
polystyrene
pools salt
and vinegar

sharp
defences
cut bare feet
sharpened
nerve endings
paddling out
in salty sea

do not chase me with garland
of apologies strung from sheds
of regret.

i love flowers.
in fields
and their dotes
ink linked so
they exist forever.

such passing events worthy
pursuit set me abundant
in decorant

Beyond bewildered that one of class
empowered by playing politics.
Dare now to claim ground so far distance
from democractic vote as good practise .

Rule; a shameful parade dressed in colours
and ideology popular hued
resplendently stained by party failures
to engage despite pressed powers used.

Influence from Baron's of paper print
devoted to preserving the city state.
Machiavelli and power of the prince
Used against democracy as vile hate

That we demos, the people, maintain
the laws that protect as one, the same

deposited as a pose
she wrapped to
he

discarded in rags
flannelette under
polyester

fallen like leaves
from one
tree

when did you last
in gentle obsession
cast your mind
so the wind spoke.

it passes. miss it's
touch and a whole
world being shunned.
are you such a force.

self-important that whispers
in trees, whistles of alleys
to hollow to drown
the media holler.

same current though howls
could rip through a town
bring your world tumbling
down.

hark then or would you decry
the cruelty and misfortune
and wail curses at wind .
be quiet .

listen to the situations
it brings.

rise and fall. faintest of exhales
you are added to the invisible.
thus:
nothing remains of details
or the anger made hate. risible,

as I lie watching a twist of your hair
dancing in your freed dreams.

contructs that are
made of parts.
a new whole function
persists.
no switches.
changes are intentional
in the design.

desire from subject
as if dance
made a
baric battle
bless the ground

matchsticks animated
from dust
are
insoluble
voluble in
incantation that
are
lazy laments . shifts
of pressure from the
id (who understands nature)
to the ego (who esteems in published forecast)

in flows of gritty water
the dust people that travel
on the wind

touch leeches tender send

consonant vowel consonant vowel

eager mind ear rounds the sounds

the beat felt feet

thump pause thump

if hand covers breast-bone

we are all stilled the same