The sky is cleft across
A ragged aniversay of two
Who for three years were in tune
Down the long paths of their vows

Now it, their love, lies, a loss
And Love roars with his patients on a chain,
Feom every real or crater
Carrying cloud, Death mires their house.

Too much spent in wrong rain
Coming together who love parted:
The windows melt into their heart
And the doors melt into their brain.

A bird cries out from the rooftops
A leaf falls drifting to the ground
A man stumbles on a cobblestone
A woman's throat makes a quiet sound

A dog chases a grey squirrel
The squirrel flees up a trunk
A man reverses into a cul de sac
His boot is full of junk

A postman whistles to himself
An old lady is baking buns
A child decides to be a philosopher
After wondering at the number of Suns

A light beam glances of a window
A boy stumbles temporarily blind
God on his cloud is smiling,
Look at all the joy you can find.

Once around the long arm passed
Swung low the leaden bauble
Twice around the long arm passed
Hellos at the threshold
Young with old makes for storytelling,
Dragons look down
Imps smile in glee
And plaid checkered cloth
Gathers stains.
Newspaper discarded tes cosy
All around the long arm swept.

"Who clapped?"
           He scratched the sweat under the wig.
                     "Who clapped?"

The tent rustled in the breeze,
Breeze from what?

"Tell them it's ok"

                     And he left.

This day winding down now
Cogs of time turned by turetlesGrinding axles ssquealing
In the mouth of a gull
In my wind rocked home
Sounds permeate the gloom
Steam and spilt droplets of
Freshly poured milk mark
The ashen counter top
Grey becomes rose as the sun
Traverses its casing in the sky
Low now, light gets into my eyes
A flock of crows fly to the treetops
Cawing in their cacophinous way.
Daffodils are aging and leaning
On the stems leaves slightly wilting
Crocuses are lying down ready
To sleep the long dream of death.

****** tie it theatre knot
     Seductive lick it with tongue red hot
Desire the lust ages, cakes will rot
     Sweat the sheets to clammy faceless knot
Gruelling physicality a god's revenge
    Aphrodite wept in tears of stone rock
Previous encounters must be avenged
     ****** always creeps up to bow shock
Toes curl and fingers grapple at air.  
     Heave him over turned right way about
Grabbing for something solid, hair
     The mouth wants to shout it out
Happiness sublime an easy win
      It beats those that just stick it in

A vase sits in a room
A man walks into a bar
Har har

The vase fills with dust
No, it’s must
Har har

The must becomes sludge
A dreary drudge
Har har

Sludge solidifies
And slides out


A vase is made for flowers
Flowers are made for sun
The countryside
Is overrun

Fleet foot float
Fool flotsam flakes
Foal fairly fried
Finish fine fugue
Freshen farted farce.

There were some birds all prancing round,
With tidy foot and fettered thigh,
Upon the grey and dusty ground,
Leaves blew round in wind's fair sigh.

The birds knew nought of deeds of men,
Who crawled through bush with rifle high,
Their thoughts were with the pretty wren,
Who went, the daffodils, right by.

Made of dark African wood
The shell is a lid to a shallow
             Box.
The turtle
Has a painted shell
Dots of red and yellow
Bought years ago when just a teen
No doubt an ungiven gift
Now a
Memento.

I will send the birds to you
And they will sing
What I cannot say
For whose lips dare proclaim
That they can speak of love
Love is the force behind all
Mere thinking mort I
And cannot speak the divine
Yet a bird is pure and knows
What to sing and when
So watch, for birds, and listen
They will not lie
Like I might, they are sweet
Where I am cold, able
Where I fail and on wing
They flit with the elegance
Of a ballet with no schooling
They have my envy as I plod
On square feet towards
My mortal grave

Faint fair devil a plague thee
Rays of light arouse me
Hogs of ash surrounding
Rings of black abounding
Birth from sheets proufoundly
Chased a bus so houndly
Days come and gallavant
Sequential like the rain
I stand and stay adamant
I will not derail.

We pile them high
The slush taking shape
The sky made solid
In our hands.

Every one young or old
Likes to fabricate
The form

Armies would they be
If, like in cartoon,
They could attain conscious
Motion

But alas they are doomed
Like so many of us
To melt and evaporate
And return to whence they came

In the big melt
The sum's rays glinting
Fiery inferno
Causing gentle curving,

Maketh ice
Which forms puddles
Which give way
To earth.

I twist and squirm under
***** nails,
You will not reach me
In my titanium
I rock back and forth
But do not burst
I am the sought after
I am meaning

The talk and walk
And breathe and balk
They sing their joys
They invented toys

I love them

A man (why is it always a man)
Stands over me advising me where to go
What to do
Not do

The man is always alone

In all the days and ages gone by,
    How do we record the time,
It seems therein hereof to fly,
    And freezes, only embossed in rhyme.
To live forever and plus that day,
    Is not so impossible in truth,
Though we can scarce predict our own way,
    Angels write our lives for flute.
Envy will these tales incur,
    Such that the future long for past,
And we, the passed, lie demure,
    Dice of present lying cast.
Toward an even field of life,
In tomes that, to a word, all strife.

Slow-motion was developed over a thirty year period and involved gently and gradually tensing and relaxing various muscle groups. The stretches were not demanding and it did not leave a pain in her muscles for days after like exercise had in her youth. It left instead a warm glow.
The standing exercises were mostly on two feet but some involved standing on one foot. The imagination is incorporated and the astounding discovery that kept Daphne coming back was that if she imagined herself leaning on a table, she did not fall. It was difficult to maintain that imagining, and therein lay the exercise; mind, body and soul.
There were women and men in the class and they would chat afterwards but never during. Relaxing music (noises really) were played during the class and the level of concentration required made conversation nearly impossible. To converse would be to blow on a tower of cards. The longer the silence the taller the tower was built, but of course everyone breathes and everyone chatters nervously and so some sessions were indeed filled with whispered chats, sometimes while trying to touch one’s toes.
‘How are you today, Lisa’, whispered Daphne at such a time, ‘Very well thank you, I can’t actually reach my toes though, should I tell her?’ said Lisa, ‘Oh I don’t think so I’m sure she’s watching over all of us, though I can’t see her, my knees are blocking my line of sight’, Daphne replied, ‘Show off’ and Lisalaughed drily.
The music came in various themes: seaside, piano hall and forest. The forest were her favourite and comprised of bird song and rustling leaves. The piano was very generic and was too similar to the open door noise of her microwave to be particularly appealing.
The seaside songs featured the raucous sound of gulls which Daphne did not enjoy as she thought them to be a selfish bird. It seemed when she visited the sea that the gulls were always flying to whatever section of strand they fancied and cleaning the place out of small ***** and seaweed.

Ham and chicken
And butter smoothed out,
Coleslaw.
Pots of tea for the crowd
Gathered
They walked from the church

To the house empty
Of his noise.
Cheese falls to the floor.

Feeling comes in short, sharp stabs,
Kneeling make my girth swing around me,
Stretching up reveals the line of my ribs,
No one is watching.

You, who should, could
Be watching, from that chair, there.

The world has torn my world into ice cubes
Come crashing from a tray
Epidermis blistering from the sudden

Cold

The dance of the dancers is
Light and free
The skirt go whoosh

One watcher frowns,
He is frowned upon.
And pulled away

Another criea and they
Check first: happy or sad?
"Sad" they take him

Where they go
The narrator knows
To be treated

Treats.

'Be there, in the park by the lake. by three
Or we're through'
I paced my room
I ruminated disconsolately,
Would being through be so bad?
Was I squandering my life?
It came quarter to and I left
I thought 'If a bus comes,
And I get there on time,
So be it'.

The bus came, and I turned the other way.

She was tale frail and green
Distinctly unseen
My eye caught her antennae
She moved closer and whispered
In the wrong language
I balked
Funny how the word for Martian
Exists

The youngsters traipse and arm in arm
Trying not to be too alarmed
The enter pubs they smell of fear
When they awake they reek of beer

They are young and wont to drink
By day they fill a page with ink
Such a pure unrefined joy
It is to be a girl or boy

They cover the streets as they walk home
(In groups, very seldom alone)
With ***** and ***** and chip wraps
They deserve a jacket with straps.

Melting, changing
From one form to an effervescent other,
From one state bifurcating to its brother,
Loving the unwilling
Jumping the **** of potential
Avast.

They switch obedience
To new laws that are on them dependent
In new behaviour they are resplendent
Learning about what to do
Minimising the expenditure
Is a common feature

We can thus trace the world
To a simple origin
A simple
Non specified origin
That bends our minds
And bends out measuring sticks
Nonsensically

What one trick could be the cause of the manifold

Now I beat my brow, and how.
She wrote this on her arm in the poetry workshop.
Poetry? That will never amount to apple crumble- a mumble, from a passer by.
Whose eye twinkled. Answer me. Whose eye twinkled?
It spake of the forlorn and well worn wristbands from picnics with wistful bands.
Coherent thoughts in liquorice all sorts
Amount
In the end
To noughts.
And crosses
on hot buns in the local bakery.
That one's spelt bread, b-r-e-a-d.
A whole army fed,
On the pep of a rally to charms,
Sound the warning alarms.
******* alert.
On the winding country roads,
Squishing toads
***** nilly.

What's that?
Too tired to think?
Two-tyred, so blink
“And you're there in a jiffy”
Said the giraffe,
For the laugh.

There are children there
And also, every which and where,
Boy do they stare
Unaware,
Without the slightest inkling of the remorse
That we learn to impinge in our gaze
An apology for existence,
“Just coincidence”

I see you out there poking through,
I stepped on your sister with my shoe,
The Spring has called you out of sleep,
Your tender colour I must keep.

Your cousin the flower shyly rears,
A bouncing nose and courful ears.

set vars null
set clock(ms)

t=clock(i)
i=0:1000000

iterate

We wrap up warm
Avoid the outdoors
Try not to snivel
Forget our tissues
Cough in clouds of steam
Take the bus
Sit beside the radiator
Relish hot showers
Never sweat

Words are like birds
Some more beautiful
Some impossible to catch

They fly into the sky
They are wonderful
There is no match

They say words make us us
They say they say

Arms grasping war machines
I wanted history and it is grim
The walls are devoid of art
Fu of ways to blow things apart
So much of history behind glass
Fingerprints on glass te me
Where to direct my sorrowful gaze
I try to take it in but the news
Rambles through my skull
History is not done yet
The fighting goes on and on.

A is for all, over which I govern,
B is for brighter as is every tomorrow,
C is for children whom I shepherd kindly,
D is for damnation, now ye fear.
E is for everything which I created,
F is for fun which is limited,
G is for goodness which triumphs,
H is for happiness; a quaint idea,
I is for ignorance, I loathe it so,
J is for jolly as are my followers,
K is for knowing of which I have all,
L is for laughter, the sweetest song,
M is for malevolence which I condemn,
N is for no-one who I will not forgive,
O is for omnipotence which I wield sparingly,
P is for poverty, which is a necessity,
Q is for quiet where the angels sing,
R is for religion, all tied together,
Sis for stolen like my purity,
T is for thieving which demons do,
U is for universality,
V is for your voracious appetites,
W is for worldliness supreme,
X is for X-rays, a simple discovery,
Y is for you who I love,
Z is for zero, a notion blessed.

He danced atop the bubble
Thay glinted on my coffee
He waved me closer
Twirled, and began to shout
In a tiny tinny voice
'follow the rainbow,
To where the ocean meets the sky
You will reap riches
And its the perfect place to die,
For these are unearthly riches
Sewn into the fabric of death
The aftelifes joining stitches
Your last breath will be a sigh,
So run along through the high wood,
Skip and jumo over river rocks
Chase the roosting rooks
Dive into the sea' that he told to me.

I HAVE A *****
THOUGH IT'S QUITE SMALL
IT LIVES IN MY BRAIN
AS DEFINED BY FREUD
WHEN I THINK AT ALL
IT GETS SO *****
NOT A TENT
OR MULTI STOREY CARPARK
CAN KEEP MY SECRET
WOMEN DO NOT HAVE NAMES
WHO PLAYS ONLY GAMES?
iF WISDOM [ETHEREAL] DIED
WHO COULD MEASURE OUR SIGHS
WHEN WOMEN MELT
MEN  PHOSPHOURESCENT
AND AFTERWARD
SAY
WHAT A HIGH TIDE
A MAN UNZIPS
TAKES A ****
THEN SKATES
A MAN URINATES
PLANTS A TREE
CHOPS IT DOWN
A MAN MAKES A DRINK
WOMAN THROWS UP IN THE SINK
TAKE A CARE
DESTROY DESPAIR
WHAT IS NAME
WHAT IS NAME
YES PLEASE
TAKE YOUR NAME
MULTIPLY BY THREE
DIVIDE BY 2.5
HAVE JIVE
DESTROY
CREATE
PROCREATE
RECREATE
CREATE AGAIN
WRONG
RIGHT LEFT
PUT YOUR SOCKS ON YOUR EARS
CAPITALISE ON FEARS
SELL YOUR SCENT
FOR DETERGERENT
WORDS WE CANNOT SPELL
RULE DAY TO DAY
THINGS WE CANNOT SMELL
RUN RUN AWAY
AWAY

The law is cool
Rules are groovy
We abstain
From certain acts;
Irreverent acts.
The entropy of the
Directorate
Is increasing
The enthalpy
Near boiling.

Poems of selfindulgent love are running through my head
Poems like these of private peeves make me wish I was dead

A metre that sways
in slow rolls
and drags the heart
through sopping towels
when you didn't answer
my text.

For example.

These are the words that are not free flowing,
Their being shaped by the slow eroding
Of "newsfeed" sliding down throats
Into expressing these strange empty emotions,
Projected from screens onto beings,
Rouses in me
A Confusion Profusion.

I am not a hopeless romantic,
Nor am I inviting your listless affection
By a farcical pretense of denial,
Take note.

A life defined by love is,
To me,
Rather silly.

Love is not the goal,
It is however
The mediating language of all really human transactions.

She sits and ponders
What she might do
Gets nothing right
Falls out of love
With life

She reads books
Attends sessions
A bystander
Empty handed

If and if only are her motifs
She writes in sans serif

The window reflects me reflecting
Beyond: bin men work.
I catch my reflection and look away,
I see my own hands, a folded dove.
A bang from without
A mechanical purr
A cat runs through my mind. The child,
How will I tell her?
Standing, the doors absorbs me,
The window is unattended,
If only there were nothing to tell,
But there is.
And the truth always gets out
                        Somehow.

[it.s wonder(size)=small
And file.load if Boolean==1
Set int j for 0;5
H();
Null k
Optionpane
K+4:14
Exit
Linebreak(5)
Access.denied
Fprintf(“endo­ffile”)

End(0)

Sighs escape and float
down
Breath is the gateway

Sighs from the belly
Sighs from the throat

Lifting the chest
Throwing out the belly

A secret contained
Intercept the message

I must leave room
For a wafot of perfume
For a gentle riot
Forsaking the polite
Saving the world
Petals unfurled
The sky will race
With your human face
To the pits
Of doom.

set vars x,y,z

if x>y set yx set z=y
if y=x=z
set y=x=z=0
if y mod 1 =!0
loop
if x mod 1 =!0
play data.stream
request y.source

//498a5f76.4302e3d5d5564

pause(3);

file(vocabulary[resume])
optio­npane(open)
if optionpane(error) {close}

pause(5)

The heartless ghost beat round and round out heads,
We clung to the four posters of our beds,
Set sail, a mocking bird to guide
We sit and shriek, enjoy the ride

The moon takes us all for fools
And knocks us to the seaweed soft
Bones of dead fish obey no rules
We hold scuffed trophies all aloft

Then tumbling like the **** that blows
Across the desert far from here
Yet moon seed all and tells us so
Whisperers torment our ears.

Then snapping with a sudden jolt
A burst if light from lightening bolt
The weary dream lifts and we
Share in realtime misery.

You were mine
I won you
But now you
Are won away

I had you
For me
We were friends
Not any longer so

I see you
With her
In my mind's eye
It's painful

A small word
Three letters across
Often followed by that number
We all know: the one

A member of the dictionary
A jaunty little fellow
It holds it's own
Beside adjectives

It lives near trees and
Other thing with t's.

Body pops, tendons crackle and
Joints are made of plasterboard
Birds echo in his ears
A glance fills nietzhan buckets
A step stops, halted.
Neurons glitter in the dark lids
He sits she falls he cries.

He was struck and the noise
Was a gong
Calling me to my senses
He is gone

He fell for me
I fell over
It was lucky
Four leafed clover

In his mind I used to stroll
He never bothered
To share how he felt
Though he shared much

As the ending
I left him
He was sitting alone
Tear streaked

My own tears
Were slow to fall
In his wake
I lost it all

Life is a series of events on a timeline. It is unknowable and mysterious. It cannot be created from nothing but only from itself. Life comes from life comes from life.
I like to think of the future. Of the mind reading machines and teleportation. In the future they will laugh at us. We are so stuck.
Living is a part of life and it happens in an unstoppable way. Living just happens to life.Living can be great or not great, we say things we don’t mean and we hear things we don’t understand and we plod along.

Putting off things we think we cannot do,
Making our lives a waiting room.
Getting to grips with the past,
Having a manual for the present.

Taking advice, from enemies,
No directions exist.

Using our own resources,
Trying to get closer to
Ever closer to
Love

Love is perfection.
It is unattainable;
It drives us, forever,
Towards the end.