I'm a schizophrenic hypocrite
thankfully not in a medical way
i don't have to pop pills everyday
to keep an essence of danger under control
and to stop my head doing backward flips and forward rolls
to curtail bad thoughts and contain OCD
wake up and think "what's happening to me?"
but sometimes i'm full of mazey bomb blasts
and crazy contrasts,
I'm a schizophrenic hypocrite
I say work i'm not even gonna give 50% percent never mind double
but i'll stay just below the warning threshold so i don't really get in trouble,
i do see my sick days as extra days of annual leave
but my bums on my seat most of the year and at least one Eve.
I'm always ducking and diving, i hide and they seek,
but i hit my targets every week.
They can say put down your pens,
strip your pencils of lead,
you can't stop me writing in my head
But you'll sometimes dictate what time i go to bed.
I'm a schizophrenic hypocrite
Nearly every road i walk down i've got a ***** cat friend
there meowing never drives me round the bend
but if me owing then just a letter i'll send.
I’ll rescue  spiders from the bath, without any exception,
But I’ll clean their webs and evict them when I have a house inspection.
Giving up pork, on a parity with pigges at last
But then i broke my faste with bacon for breakfast
Watching lambs a gamboling there frolicking is fab,
but i'll see you on a plate later if i'm craving a kebab.
I'm a schizophrenic hypocrite.
Money and the capitalist structure baffles, no thanks, no ta
but before i go out a quick sub off Ma and Pa.
I'll pay for a taxi, i don't care about the amount,
while checking fervently the statement from my bank account.
Cash cannot be eaten it just gets you into Eton
but i'll rifle through my pockets for pennies to get an eat on
i don't adore you, i'll say your the means to an end
but then i spend some more and ask for a lend.
I'm a schizophrenic hypocrite.
I'll say anarchy  is everywhere, petition and abstain
then  read in the late edition who i think should take the reins.  
I scream smash the system without any regrets
but then start stubbing out where they deem no cigarettes.
I'll say **** big business they are always looting tons
while cutting out Asda coupons to get the soup with croutons.
i'll say **** materialism, to that i am adverse,
"ohh if you want to get me some trainers Mum can you make em Converse? "
I'm a schizophrenic hypocrite
One Saturday i found it hard to move
crying out for water, more than needing food,
stomach emptier than the packets in my pockets
Early winter scribble
spoiled by the ripple of rain,
deadened and dull
on a precious day,
the time I crave
passes through a husk
full of caves.
Each inhabitant curses
and burns
the stagnant soil under their feet,
I want something to eat.
I need to drink.
The cold slab of sink
lures flesh to rest,
unsatisfied
with retched offerings
flung from a scorched earth
so next Friday, a few beers and l I’ll hit the hay
Ten beers later, where’s the MDMA?
And my staunch resolutions go up my nose
Chatting through the night, striking a pose,
Music accentuated, stars sparkling hard
World’s discussed in magic back yards,
Focused and fraught in tumultuous thought
Ten cigs in an hour
An hours too short,
As the morning comes, I start feeling a mess
It slowly disintegrates the treasure in my chest,
Feelings of strength crumble to a feeble frame,
Spears in my head, WHOOPS I’VE DONE IT AGAIN.
You’ll stop this time, I curse and lecture,
Two bottles down next Friday etc etc,
I’m a schizophrenic hypocrite
I remember an uneventful Tuesday when i wasn't working
belly full of rice
and i saw you twice,
two times a day,
on a day in lieu,
time stood still,
smiling at you
i thought i'm gonna have to write about you,
so i park myself in a bar after a joint in Netto carpark
and start using words to build an arc
and if you you do wanna walk in two by two,
can i walk in with you?
Is it this green ride that's getting me high
or the regret i seen in the gleam of your eye
that as soon as we said hi we said bye,
as disappointed as the catcher when he dropped the rye.
If i may be so bold,
if you were cold
i wouldn't hail these stones
i'd pummel Jack Frost until he knows he's lost,
i'll leave all the lights on to hasten global warming
make Obama declare winter a season of mourning,
If you met an iceberg of Titanic  proportions
i'd cut through it quicker than the Ripper does back street abortions.
If you were in prism
i'd try to unrangle the science of triangles
so i could build you a pyramid with all the right angles,
my stomachs in knots;
the most tranquil of tangles.
Then i saw you get out of the lift
and i wanted to play you a rift
until you exposed your midriff
because you set me adrift from chains and shackles
my mind goes crazy and fills with cackles,
i crackle with lightning, my energy heightens
my heart tightens
and not cos of cholesterol
cos i think you're special
and celestial!
I got dreams from naught, my head feels taught,
i prised a lesson from your eyes,
love is the greatest prize.
But now that's gone, all things
pass evolution in transience
faces that were everything lost to balance
blue it merge
but seldom a residual surge
and your bark today was worst than your bite
it said something softly,
i sow the seeds for the sycamore trees
we can carve our names on next summer.
Under an endless stretching sky
you wrote you
and i wrote i,
the lights in our eyes don't lie
they are gateways to the suns inside,
our hearts couldn't hide from this brightening tide.
I'm a Schizophrenic hypocrite
I remember this guy from work, cooed to me
look at the **** on this page 3
he drooled over Nuts magazine like he belonged in a zoo
i bet he frequented strippers too.
He said seen this clip, it's ******* great,
it ad turn a couple of queers straight
it was these two twins with rouge lips being rude,
the way she chomped on her like food
and they defo loved it,there is  no doubt
it's just just ***** Eskimo ******* kissing snouts
and sharing with her sister the joy of getting licked out.
Wonder how they looked in the family car?
giggling about some exciting destination,
like all kids displaying a lack of patience,
“are we there yet” chorused with glee and duality,
dressed in the same clothes to ensure parity.
Ice cream for tea.
Maybe they might be way into drugs
or addled with addiction
lacking hugs
and sore from the friction.
Not liking the glare
feeling scared.
maybe?
He said nar they love it up them baby.
But then,
i have it
about 3 or 4 times a week
after the 5th time of hitting snooze,
or a heavy night on the *****,
or sometimes no beer,
even after a sonnet of Shakespeare
a sudden urge comes over me,
GET THE LAPTOP!
GET THE *******!
Then it's
Japanese teen lesbians spitting,
finger ******* wearing mittens,
****'s ******* Britions,
oap creampies
***** covered eyes
***** flicking,
extreme suction,
**** destruction,
Captain Birds Eye gobbing
Batman ******* Robin,
A ten inch plumber ******* in a kitchen sink drama
Robert de Niro unpeeling Bananarama
Marty doing the Doc
a gimped up Kirk whipping Spoc
Rita  ******* Norris
Gail licking Fizz
Sally doing Dev
and Kevin doing ki.............Kevin, get out of the room.
Back to
a **** doing a ******
a pre op pleasuring granny
two ***** one *****,
then i chuck my muck all over my tunic
flip over and continue reading The Female ******,
I'm a Schizophrenic Hypocrite,
i've gotta split.

Although your red hair looks ace
any colour would flow well with your face;
sewage blonde speckled like an unwashed sink,
decayed purple, ***** pink,
sobbing violet, ***** brown,
snotty yellow on a unwashed frown,
manure sliver with a rotting hue,
***** orange, or suicide blue,
they'd all look good, look good on you.
And yes your scarlet locks shimmer with plush
but everything looks great next to your mush!

Arriving, a frenzy of possibility
where river find seas,
the torrent in blossom
quelling winter wind
with swells of bloom;
lost too soon.
Seconds last,
comfort past
and broken compass glass.

Sign in the staffroom at work.
Stay positive they said,
Stay positive I read,
Stay positive in the work you despise,
Turn a blind eye as your life goes by,
Leave your thoughts at the door,
Don’t think they implore,
Pretend there is no sun,
Look out of the window at your life on hiatus for eight hours,
Can’t get rid of the smell of this jail even after a thousand showers,
Take solace it’s for the money that I didn’t even want to use,
The books you could be reading now will only get you confused,
The songs you could be listening to now won’t speak to you anyway,
Silence your mental jukebox and toil for your pay.
Stay positive today,
The cash they flash,
I can see on my face a fiscal rash,

They can say put down your pens,
Strip your pencils of lead,
Tell creativity to slumber,
Put your canvas to bed,
But can’t stop us drawing in our heads,
Stay positive,
Like don’t start on that waitress and treat her with chagrin,
Cos she doesn’t bound over with your pie and chips with a leap and a grin,
“We’ve paid for this food, she better start smiling,”
Or the tip it is non and the polite police I’m dialing “
Have a word with yourself shes working,
And more than that she could be hurting,
Cos John in the kitchen isn’t flirting,
Or she could be wearing that frown,
Cos shes realised she only got £30.00 for her night out in town,
That’s not much when you consider the taxi back,
Plus after shes done serving you shes got dishes to attack,
But no she has a grimace,
Shes finished,
We have all felt like that, bit lonely and that,
Stay positive.
Stay positive,
Cos sometimes words cling to the air,
Like candyfloss to hair,
And birds sing for their bread while the cat bosses just stare,
At the endless charade of hierarchy,
John then Paul then George then Starky,
But star key unlocks the door to the skies,
Hope is life, I summarise,
There’s beauty in your summer eyes,
Don’t count the calories in pies,
Dietary information often lies,
Distracting from the truth with garish rides,
That only seek to compromise,
Our promise and delightful ties,
Forged from friendship not to buy,
Feel your waist and touch your thigh,
Dietary information often lies,
Love is all,
No chance to take,
No dast to cie,
Be brilliant and hear them sigh,
Stay positive.
I feel like,
Tintin going exploring,
Paths opening up, new days dawning,
I’m done with yawning it’s a waste of breath,
I don’t feel lethargic, I don’t feel bereft,
Heads down dive me a test,
About anything cos this beat in my chest,
Means I’ll beat Kasparov at chess,
Armani couldn’t make a sexier dress,
Allivate stress quicker than Prozac,
Cut the beanstalk down faster than Jack,
I can stretch my mind more than that guy on the rack,
Cos I think if our lips locked together we could throw away the lucky heather,
No more boring days of monotony,
Fingers crossed watching the national lottery,
Not just waiting around thinking I’ll chill,
But striving for the horizon over the hill,
Stay positive.
But the best thing I saw recently,
Was when I’d just finished my tea,
And I saw these two old folk who live near me,
One about 89 the other 93,
Twilight of their lives to say the least,
Real hunched and stooped over, all false teeth,
But the way they held each other’s hands the tenderness was palpable,
Cradled and soft the care undoubtable,
Cos some things are not withered by age,
They stick through this life to every page,
Decrepit vocal cords that would have a job to sing,
But there demeanor hit the high notes bellowing loves the greatest thing,
And whatever they think the next life is, earth, air or above,
At least the opening gambit can be, “we ended that one with love”
And everybody wants that, everybody,
Everybody with this life to live,
Peace be with you and bless you
And stay positive!

Between all the light breezes
we could meet,
the spaces where breath
breathes in joy
and be glad that this is it,
and movement now is our thing;
a magic of moment.

Aware of tides
a castle fortifies
with memories of compacted glory,
splendid defiance
lost
to brine horizon,
a hailed day
turned whaling ship grey.

I’d hazard a guess there aren’t many folk who don’t know the tales of Harry, Hermione and Ron
and how with a cast of a multitude of friends they defeated Voldemort with aplomb,
rightly these heroic adventures are held in the highest regard,
and will be told forever by musicians, singers and bards,
these stories will be remembered, people will talk of those courageous and brave
and how they turned the evil tide of The Dark Lord with everything they gave,
how they dispelled the magic of horror with the strength of the Gryffindor lion,
but less well known than this wonder is the fable of Tayrn and her Ryan.
R and T arrived to Hogwarts  10  years after He Who Can Not Be Named was vanquished in the great struggle,
Tayrn was pure wizard born whereas Ryan was pure muggle,
both took to wizarding school easily and did well in all their classes,
of course Tayrn was a hit with the lads and Ryan a swoon with the lasses,
but it didn’t matter they gave all folk in their year at Hogwarts an involuntary love shudder
because ace Tayrn and Ryan only had eyes for each other!
Their wonderful sweet love was easy and went without a hitch,
spent Saturdays gazing at each other when they should have been watching Quidditch,
hand in hand they skipped around The Forbidden Forest, their romance knowing no rift,
saying hello to a friendly centur or a flying hippogriff,
they galloped around Diagon Alley, their souls full of cheer,
or sat relaxed and tranquil in The Leaky Cauldron sipping butter beer.
T and R were ace at spells, Tayrn’s best was with a wand swish creating healing
and Ryan’s wonderful arty prowess was painting The Sistine Chapel on any ceiling;
yes they were each other’s equal in the way they weaved the magic from above
and this is one of the reasons they were very much in love.
One night T and R were going on one of their romantic walks
and decided to have a jaunt to a wonderful clearing just near Hogwarts,
they sauntered through the darkening evening with a song on their lips,
swaggered along the green with the music of love on their hips,
as they got to the secluded clearing they were anticipating with glee each other’s hold
but then all of a sudden they started feeling very cold.
They both noticed that the summer grass was covered in a blanket of frost,
the trees were looking pale, freezing, withdrawn and lost,
the air was filled with frigidity and held the hints of scare,
the flowers were wilting with chilled terror, bloom given way to despair,
as Tayrn and Ryan wondered what was the cause of such floral bad health
just a few yards away  the answer revealed itself;
over a hill came a hooded figure that immediately brought fright to the fore
as Tayrn and Ryan paid attention in Defence Against The Dark Arts they instantly recognised it as a dementor,
but they noticed something different about this one, it was nearly trebled in size,
and had a deeper blackness where should have been it’s eyes.
Being skilled at magic they knew what they had to do to avoid any harm
so both quickly fired off their best Patronus Charm,
but these spells had no effect, the huge dementor merely shrugged them off
and they could have sworn beneath it’s hood it let out a derisive scoff.
The enormous dementor hovered over Tayrn and Ryan and from its mouth emerged a hiss,
as it prepared to give the two lovers their final goodbye kiss,
but as it stooped over them with it’s awful deathly hue
T and R looked into each other’s eyes and figured out what they were going to do;
they remembered in one class learning about the bravest man Hogwarts had ever knew
and how he was able to hoodwink The Dark Lord with a love strong, solid and true,
how Snape drew on his love of Lilly to ride through any storm,
even on his darkest night it was what kept him warm,
so Tayrn and Ryan pushed their wands together and thought of beautiful Severus
and how they both too shared the romantic love buzz,
and channelling the wonder of that special feeling thus
they both pointed their wands in unison and screamed Expelliarmus!
Emitted from the tip of each wand was the half of a love heart projected from each soul
that both came together to create the fantastic whole,
in the shine of such love the vast dementor instantly recoiled,
knowing that it’s draining wish was in no doubt foiled,
it writhed around and in the glare of joy did it’s nefarious purpose erode,
every bleak and blank about it started to corrode,
the dementor slowly ebbed away until all of it did go
and in it’s place was left a striking brown young doe,
it bowed it’s head to Tayrn and Ryan and then it flew into the trees,
gliding with majesty on the sweet night breeze.
Awed by what had happened Ryan and Tayrn turned and started to walk back to the dorm,
aware of what occurred was special and not the norm,
but then they stopped in their tracks and at the same time both did say,
“oh my beautiful love, I know  I’m going to marry you someday!”

Some people say they don't like social networking
on mobile phones,
"it distances us from human connection"
they bleat and moan,
"takes us away from natural converging,
curtails face to face ties from emerging,
subdues us in a swamp of technology,
this engagement with messaging is surely a folly."
And as they depart they say,
“give me a person over a mobile msg anyday.”
Now don't get me wrong eye to eye communing is amazing
and it's not the last reserve of a luddite to prefer tactile phrasing
or to think sweet nothings into a there ear is best
but that doesn't mean there is nothing in mobile caress.
Because you can meet someone at a festival, and feel a sweet spark
that thunders through the roaming larks
and then when you part after a few days
think, "oh, that was awesome, I enjoyed their ways,
they made me laugh and gave me jumping smiles,
****, it's a pity between us there are miles and miles."
But when you arrive home and charged up a message pings
"you back now?" I see it and start to feel sing.
So we take our phones and chat all the next day,
getting to know each other in a happy appy way,
giggling at your words, beaming at the next
growing through lightning at each little text,
learning more in these screen chats;
you go to lots of BBQs and love dogs and cats,
you dye your hair and are calamity stricken
your top fajitas are finger lickin,
you know Mandarin and are ace at Catchphrase
and you have an inclination for New York days,  
you can analytically discuss scenes from C Street,
you can charm the customers at a store meet and greet,
you can decipher the nuance in The Bistro goss,
you can put up with **** from ****** at Argos.
You have a mate who picks up Mark Ronson's pooch,
you've saved a big crustacean when been on a mooch,
you can relate a song to Odysseus using sheep to save his men
and watch Mr G the musical over and over again,
you stay up/get up to watch the Super Bowl,
you type faster than a thought on a roll,
you've danced with Pete Barlow's ship mate from Corrie,
you can drive a car and a van, I recks you could handle a lorry!
You have loads of friends and often verge on more dislocation,
I want to be near you, whatever the location.
I want to pull you out of a hat
and see you stand on my welcome mat,
see, mobiles are good because it's good to feel that.
But if some quantum physicists are to be believed, after perusing their hefty tomes,
somewhere in infinite there is a place with no mobile phones,
and a boom of synchronicity has to be carried on by pen on paper
and there are days and days tween a tumbling heebie jeebie butterfly caper,
and then it's sent with a hope that it won't be lost in the post,
and be not read, like a bottled message uncorked by the coast.
Maybe a letter and no phones is better for starting a fizz
but right now mobiles make this what it is;
if not for them would I feel this close to you?
Or be writing this to you?
Right now I like feeling close to you,
and I like writing this to you,
to you Lou.

Still
in splendid sun
dotted wings untouched
by frost to come;
bright
they flicker in light
and move no further
than the colour of today.

A once
same eyes sky
seen through by distance;
a full leaving,
scene by scene,
green by green,
a summer sparkle
losing gleam.

No hints needed,
your own time is our time.
Waiting without waiting,
no hoping too,
to look forward
is to see past you,
no hope needed
when I'm next to you.
I gather implorations
not hints,
my eyes say I do,
I do love you.

Tucked on a wall
spots spread spring
in the changing.
Wings wet with waning winter
never beat
but signal retreat  
of a season.
It's summer lost;
colourful defiance  
covered in silence
and last frost.

You
with yourself
put sparkles
in my ground;
and unearthed with ease
when you come around.

Perplexed in glorious rush
of telling you
thank you,
for the days,
hours,
minutes
and seconds
of this.

Her eyes,
recognised
you;
moving on with a love that belongs
and knows that one day will go
and leave a mark,
for,
a touch lost
and not the settle frost;
never still,
when waiting.

If you were a blanket
you'd be full enough
to keep the cold out,
& big,
& all encompassing;
wrapped to safe as safe can be.

You?
You make me fabulous,
all wow and starry;
feel I can usurp King at Kong
and then move on to beat Federer
at ping pong
on the Atari!

In 1410 the village of Little Darling was a pretty nice place to live,
it’s houses were stout and wonderful and the people had lots to give,
the lord who owned the area was benevolent, he never ruled with an iron claw,
he spoke with softness and kindness, not knowing a cajoling roar,
he left the people to get on with their lives, unless they needed a helping hand
and then he’d be there to provide a peg up somewhere in his land.
Because of this the folk who made home here had it better then most peasants from this time,
who were condemned to a life of grinding servitude as if their living was a crime,
they were happier and joyful and free from the toil of subjugate,
each second was a pleasure and every minute spent first rate,
however there was one thing they shared with those who spent every day under the cosh;
everyone was filthy, no one liked to wash.
Only about once every 10 days would they pull bathing water from the well,
If they were especially filthy and their stink they wished to quell,
the rest of the time they didn’t care that they resembled a muddy shrub,
or their faces were still covered in last weekend’s off grub,
nor did they think it mattered if their hair was a matted mucky mess
or that compost heap didn’t smell more than their locks, it actually smelt less,
to them water was mainly a drink when their mouths were feeling parched and shoddy,
not a soothing liquid  with which to  cleanse their body.
Everyone in Little Darling didn’t mind being ***** and looking a unhygienic fright,
actually not everyone, everyone’s not quite right.
Alice always wondered why folk didn’t wash
and that’s not because she wanted everyone to be pretty, pristine and posh,
she just pondered as she daily made herself all gleam,
“why does nobody else round here care about being clean?
They all wallow around in their own filth like a burrowed germ,
more buried in soil than a busy earth worm,
I don’t get when there is plentiful water from wells not that far away
why don’t they dose themselves in the aqua good at any point in the day?
She thought, “Of course it’s their own life and if you never harm anyone else you can never do anything wrong,
but how how how can they fester in their own awful pong?”
So every day Alice would get up before she heard the going to work bell
and go and fetch some water to cleanse herself of smell,
she’d make herself all fresh and totally sans of grit and straw
and revel in the gleam she had coming out of every pore.
Everyone else in Little Darling all thought Alice was great,
a truly smashing lass who had tons of friends and mates,
yeah sometimes they’d remark to her “I don’t get your penchant for keeping yourself immaculate if I had to say
but who cares, I love you, have a fantastic day!”
And yes due to the mud in the village sometimes Alice would get herself all shiny and within a couple of hours look like she’d just crawled out of a cave,
but she didn’t mind as starting the day with a sparkle was what she did crave!
One fine day the folk of Little Darling decided to throw a big party as they adored a drink, a chat and a jive,
just have a massive night of  dancing, where they could give appreciation for being alive,
as Little Darling was a ace place they invited another village to join in the hedonism,
as they wanted folk to bask in hours through a wonderful prism!
When Alice heard news of the shindig she let out a chirping coo,
as revelling in the realm of fun was what she was really made to do!
As the week whiled to an end the day of the party came,
Alice could hardly contain herself as carousing ran through her brain,
she picked out her favourite garments feeling all of a super gathering quiver,
and then full of beans moseyed on down to the river,
she washed away with gusto and dressed all primed to go out,
“I’m on my way to get down and groove!” was her gleeful shout.
She started making her path to the good times, feeling all content,
she couldn’t wait to be immersed in the hub of blazing merriment,
as she was walking to the barn where the party was she encountered others making their journey to fun,
lit they all were by the going down sun,
someone said “hey Alice, I reckon you’ve spent an eternity scrubbing yourself for this bash”,
another said “yeah, I bet you’ve wasted hours by the river to get yourself prepared for this night on the lash!”
Alice replied and remarked, “yes I may have used my time getting myself ready and not been able to enjoy the chills and sits
but at least I don’t have hay in my hair like you ******* smelly *****!”
Everyone burst out laughing and happy all skipped to the revelry,
the slow dusk sky reflecting calm as far as the eye could see.
They jaunted into the barn with the music already in full swing,
the harp, drum, lute and trumpet players all doing their tuneful thing,
Alice grabbed a jar of foaming ale and started moving her body to the beats,
each noise in the air a consummate amazing treat!
Then from out of the corner of her eye she spotted a guy with dancing around in the air,
who'd cleaned his garb,
and washed his hair!
Alice thought "Wow! That guy doesn't look like his stench would make my opticals weepy,
in actual fact he makes my heart all leapy!"
They saw each other and felt swirls and sparks,
a knowing of what could and will be lover’s larks,
a chance they both knew could never be missed
and finalised their first look synchronicity with a longing kiss.
Everybody else stopped,
turned to look,
and knew a little bit more about
loves' rushing roars,
and couldn't help but breaking out
into a round of applause.
Alice felt a dawn,
reciprocated the smile of her fresh guy
and hand in hand they left the barn,
on their lips a glimpse of forever,
and went to find a empty stable,
where they could become all
***** together.

Talk of a flood
rises to the top,
and then
stops,
rescinding gently,
too much
ceased
with ease,
as thinking on
the sight
of those heights.

It was sunny today,
the hot light
fantastic,
and warm.
After drinks in the pub
we walked back and chatted,
ever ready for talk
us two
but,
said softly
I wish I was with you too.

Right now
I smile loads
as you pop
In my head
a lot;
beams from waking up
to drifting off.
I like smiling,
I like you popping in my head
a lot.

All the time you never hid
from season,
heeding the turns
instantly;
moving
with now,
no waiting
for green.

I’ll miss your lovely singing voice
bristling with charm;
opposite of clarion call,
antithesis of alarm.

In the shape of your movement
my tummy is stormed
by jingles
and foxtrots,
it leaps a ballet
as you punctuate
air
with glorious panache.
It always tries to run everywhere
when you
come into view;
all the tumbling roams
at the slight tour of your smile.

I miss you like maps miss fingers,
Like mikes miss singers,
Like hells bells miss ringers,
Like bringers miss takers,
Like ******* miss fakers,
Like cakes miss bakers,
Like lakes miss boats,
Like bad swimmers miss floats,
Like politicians miss votes,
Like doting parents miss school plays,
Like nymphomaniacs miss lays,
Like hypochondriacs miss prescriptions,
Like ****** misses addictions,
Like carpets miss friction,
Like Billy Bunter misses midnight feasts,
Like the grim reaper misses grief,
Like Henry misses the good fellas,
Like sand sculptures miss umbrellas,
Like Rubix cube devotees miss puzzles,
Like rabid dogs miss muzzles,
Like Van Gough missed his brushes,
Like speed freaks miss rushes,
Like pens miss paper,
Like the Mona Lisa missed Pater,
Like the canvas misses the creator,
Like  the thirsty miss water,
Like the hungry miss food,
Like ***** miss the lewd,
Like the mind misses mood,
Like the tides miss the moon,
Like the sane miss the loons,
Like the dark misses the light,
Like the brave miss the fright,
Like the kite misses the wind.
I miss everything.

Now i tried Tinder
as i tossed the caber and said timmmmberrrrr
for a while a guy of my style (ha ha!) will swipe to the left on Linda
...if your,re wondering why, her eyes bled Simba and i'm the only lion/**** King around here
but then after no connections for a bit i thought "this ap's pretty ****, why has no one hit on me? Do i look like ET?" Cancel the extra kettle.  It's judging by aesthetics and when you are bald and pathetic and want to take yourself out (mimic gun to head!) why would you put this face on a faux Take Me Out...leave the light on, cos mine's off, it's gone.
Wait a mo, a message, a flicker of flame!!!!  From Tinder!!!  I am Cinders and i'm going to the ball MOTHER *******!!!
I'm a Schizophrenic hypocrite

It's very easy to miss the last bus on purpose
and use that gloomy subterfuge
as an excuse
to walk you home;
sans expectation,
of course:
you do what you want,
that's one of the options,
in the myriad of many
that you obviously have;
as you always tick over,
you always go forward.

With a clamor of disorder a raised voice heard,
pompous and **** it begins to emerge,
he starts with,
"I don't understand this obsession with television
you're numbing your brains with perfect precision,
vegging like zombies consuming mind corrosives
numbing your senses with cabbaging explosives.
You are passive and dull clapping like a seal,
have a word with yourself, IT'S NOT EVEN REAL!!
It's nonsense intended to diminish your soul
makes you pliant and supple, never breaking your mold"
He pauses and sips then gleefully splurges,
"My head would never be satisfied with the basest of urges.
I spend my free time reading or immersed in the arts,
i cleanse my essence and strengthen my heart.
I visit wonderful worlds full of joy and compassion
where people love well what's front and what's past them,
the flaws and the soars of the human condition
are painted out in strong and perfect position,
stupendous rendition.
So while you glaze your iris with images galore
and turn your mind's eye from vibrant to snore
i have beauty coming out of my pores.
But you stick with your idiot box"
he knowingly mocks,
swings down his drink
and finally stops.
There is silence for seconds but then somebody says,
"I disagree with your there in quite a few ways."
She comments,
"Although i think reading reveals amazing truth,
enriching life with strokes drawn loose,
conveying love with all that it brings,
grief and stillness and magical things.
And i concur that art is a window into the soul,
running with life and filling the holes
but telly can also tell the things that they told.
He guffaws with derision and says with pride grown fat
"pray do tell what TV show could do that."
she replies
"There's a show where a girl is given a tremendous burden,
her present hectic and future uncertain,
she stands between the world and inevitable doom
while going to school and being sent to her room,
she worries about hair and being the object of mirth
while still being scared but saving the earth.
She has people around her who are courageous and clever,
and stand by her side whatever the weather.
One would feel useless and small
but then buy the dress so you can go to the ball.
The other sent to watcher and keep his distance
but for the pull of affection there is no resistance.
Red held the fate of the world in her hands
when her world ended and crumbled like sand,
but she used all her magic and not to float a pen
but to stand back up, to love again.
Her sister was a key and her duties a lock
sometimes she began to rock
she had a day that we will all have
where something is lost and will never come back,
outside it's sunny with hoots of oddity
inside it's seconds from mommy to body,
and this happens,
unlike her it will not be gentle,
it will invade everything
and evade courtesy
and want.
But this is because of love,
and what it does.
Mast casting,
everlasting and there to see,
and in a show on TV."
She has a slight pause and then remarks
"It could be drenched in sadness and resplendent with larks,
many vampires slain and demons destroyed
moments of weakness, feelings to avoid.
She could plough the fields and never till them,
admit her mistakes...i'm sorry William.
She could be class protector
she could be surprised
she could lie with you until sun rise
she could die for the world and take out the glory
she would run from her problems but always finish the story,
she'd get you down from a tower
with words not her power,
her screams send the bad gentlemen away
because she is stronger then them, everyday,
she has kindness
and a best and a worst
can burst into song and be effulgent in verse,
told she's a a hell of a woman and the one
and returns the i love yous on the day that he's gone,
and through the screen and this TV plot
is written with love how she saved the world...alot.
You might like books
but Buffy is great
an endeavour of joy, an affront to the hate."
The man composes himself and then says without regret
"It sounds ******* brilliant, i'll get the boxset!"

Although things fall apart
in constant movement
our ties suggest,
for now,
a loosen unknown;
a knot not seen
in the swift of melding.

There are a lot of important things needed to be happy in life,
that stop the dark rising and save the mind from strife,
like hilarious acts and moments we find funny
and as much as it pains me to say a bit of money
so we can do other fun things like go on a night out,
singing the hours away with a beam and a shout,
or a sweet song that glistens around the head,
or an engrossing book to read in bed,
ordering a take away and gorging can give a thrill
or back to back box sets on a Netflix and chill,
and just as crucial as having a top mate to phone
is having a place that one can call home.
Having an abode to go to when employment is done
or a domain to grab some water to quell the heat of the sun,
a space to collapse when infused with inebriation,
when getting tired of tracks, a warm safe station,
a place to get ready when revving to go out in the mix,
yeah, you were all of the above dear Flat Six.
Yeah, I’ll hold my hands up, you've been a ace place in which to live,
okay you were full of damp and the bathroom wall flimsy enough to give,
and when the verdant Eden outside was chopped down it made me mad
but you were only a short walk from my Mum and Dads.
You had plenty of perks,
fab tree out back and close to work,
a 24 hour garage a stone's throw away,
that sold the ***** at night and day,
you were near a cracking paper shop that had had 2 bottles of wine for six quid a go,
suffice to say, el vino did flow.
Your living room was massive enough to play big with a cat
"always a good time here" etched on your welcome mat.
Under your roof was awesome, you engendered joy with ease,
effortlessly making great, just like the cleanest breeze.
Now although you as a building yourself is a important component in amaze
other factors also make a simply brilliant phase,
Like when friends came round for fun and revelry
after we had left the club just after three,
we'd all pick up the ingredients for a ***** do
and jump, and groove with soothing coo,
the ether resplendent with "I love you!"
finely balanced between boom and cautious,
chatting committed, gabbing voracious,
sunk into fun under your light,
the wonder of spun on Saturday night.
Now, it wasn't just at the weekend when friends came to say okay,
there were some sweet gatherings on a Wednesday,
no women, no, just a range age of men,
it could only be mid week Breadren,
we could be having a conversation about how New York seems most tourable
when a voice pipes up, "by the way bel ami my cousin has cancer and it's incurable."
There could only be one guy who brings such depressing roars
the harbinger of gloom known as Two Doors.
He'll bleat on about how his niece has no womb and is totally barren
and next to him lives a kingpin drug baron
"they are shifting units at a furious pace
and ski in more in more wizz than ******* Scarface."
He'll change the subject in the blink of an eye
and go from talking about love to who's going to die,
he doesn't like most women, thinks they are a squawking flock,
he loves men though, yeah, he really likes ****.
A mate can come out and say sobbing he doesn't want to be with a lass
while Iain does think, "Ross, let me in your ***."
His friend could weep and cry with a whimpering cough
while all Iain thinks, Ross, **** me off!
Never mind Grinder, get on my fleshy old man log."
The third guy Martin is off shooting up in the bog.
Yeah, lots of people talked in your four walls
but you provided the space for those stupendous *****,
you were brill in December, springing in May,
really awesome in September, probs cos that's when Louise came to stay.
You held our pre festival clutter with happy behest
and often covered in bottles on Monday, a big glassy mess,
oh you had everything, simply one of the best.
As I’ve said, Flat Six you as the area were great
But a paramount importance in that was housemate.
You see some people can bond and connect in the hub of a club
but when sharing an address each other up the wrong way they can rub,
although they can go to a gig and have the most divine of laughs
when they abide in the same abode they go together like low ceilings and giraffes,
arguments start over the heating not being turned off
or who hasn’t took the bins out or who’s had some of the others food to scoff,
they bleat that “you shouldn’t have gone out for that night on the *****
And then made noise when you got in as you knew I was trying to snooze!”
or “why did you have that night on the coke, you see more of Charlie than an oompa loompa
and have World War 3 over a borrowed jumper.
So yeah, it's sweet when you find a shared space dweller
and who you think is swell and you get on really well,
as when after a day at the office and you perhaps want to chill alone
when they rap on your door to discuss the day you're glad their home,
skating through conversations with the p of pace
raucous at pontificating and waiting in the listen space,
bringing the talk with dazzling natter,
singeing the fork with frazzling chatter
to ensure the words cooked go down warm,
go down a treat, go down a storm,
discussing that wowing tomorrow is pay day thrill
and who was to blame for the initial breakup of Ross and Rachel,
top gabbing, it was brill!
Someone who when the elephant in the room is sniff
you both realise it quick and score in a jiff!
And never entertain the waste that is a tiff,
not for us the sign of a rift
simply super, a kind of bliss,
see I love Joe Flat Six, I love him to bits!
Although, like you  and your constant mould
he wasn't perfect (like everyone), if the truth be told,
you see if you follow all the biblical teachings you've been taught
you'd think he would have thought,
"I can help myself to the dental care and washing hygiene, it don't matter that I haven't bought,
I can use what I deem, Si's not the selfish sort,
he'd give me the last drop of his shower gel if he could,
he defiantly would,
so do unto others as they'd do unto me
and as I’ve got this human cleaning fluid for free
I’ll leave him some plentiful dollops on the side so he can bathe in a Lynx Africa infused sea
and I can leave some mouth polish laid in the shape of a cleansing leaf
so he can keep the fillings to zero in his teeth
then I can take the rest as I’ve been true to my sacred beliefs."
Yeah, that's what he could have done.
Instead he grew horns and committed a Luciferian act
and thought "I'm taking all of that!",
Sartini, you Devilish ****.
Nar, I bet you didn't even think that at all,
you were too busy imagining going out and having a ball,
beautifully bouncing off every wall,
riding the waves of Wet Dreams with total aplomb,
spinning tunes while high fiving Tom,
cool as ice cream and hot to trot
country hopping and swigging spirits by the tot,
at least Shannon seems to have diminished, that ****** robot!
she had more wires than C3PO's thighs
and glazed over R2D2 eyes
fair dos you digged her metallic allure
but did you really want to make love with the Terminator?
Ahh but who cares about a bit of shower gel and your cyborg fawning
it was great singing along as the day was dawning
And obvs I know every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end
But it’s only natural to miss living with one of your best friends.
So far be it from me to encourage your narcissistic gaze
but Joe you can add top housemate to your list of fortes!
So dear Flat Six to summarise
I’ll miss sitting out your back in summer rise
looking through your big tree with my eyes
at the Saturday sun azure blue skies,
I’ll miss that whatever there is to unfold
won’t happen over your threshold,
I’ll miss coming in your space with loads of beer
And chill with tunes while mates appear,
I’ll miss the midnight moving across your floor,
miss my key going in your door,
miss that it’s not your clock telling my time
miss that you’re not mine when I say “who wants to go mine?”
But now you’ll always be more than an address and a collection of bricks
I’ll always love you,
dear Flat Six!

You move through air
with
the
surety of spectacular,
neither hidden or waiting
just there and full
of nothing but what is,
bursting from
this and no more,
only this and what is
and no seek to soar.

I'd queue for you
to get a seat for you.
I'd fill pools for you
then swim for you.
I'd rhyme with words for you,
i'll find worlds for you.
I'd search for you
and peer for you.
Hope for you,
when i spoke to you.
Navigate slopes for you,
part moats for you.
Split isotopes for you.
Wrote for you
by rote for you.
Discover routes for you,
root for you.

Bees nestle in sunshine flowers,

a once adrift cold cat now warm in her glory hours,

birds coo rounded and loud,

the awesome blue sky without cloud.

Although objectively wonderful I wouldn't like it as much if not for you two,

all your actions gilded love's hue:

I'm lucky I came up smiling from the roll of the parent dice

and this little back garden resembles paradise.

Just one more time come around sun
and bring the warm easy
like you always do,
your rescinding shine
has in it all of you;
being the days you were.

For seconds
there is a purpose
to everything,
and all that matters hums
with a breezy intensity,
the coincidental collision clockwork
murmurs
right on time;
and all the charms
and all the chimes
are you.

A guy awakes in the month of May,
his movement is languid, his thoughts full of fray,
he showers and dresses and then leaves his abode,
the spring sun doesn't warm him as he walks down the road.
He stands on the pavement and waits for the bus,
his fibre is calloused with collision and fuss.
He embarks on his journey with eyes facing down,
needing a break, and to get out of town.
He looks out the window as grey turns to green,
urban concrete to verdant serene.
He spies a large field and rings the bus bell to get off
hoping green grass will quell his bereavement cough.
He meanders through a meadow and parks himself under a tree
and speculates with veracity "what's happening to me?
she's gone and I miss her and i'm still alive
the answer to this tripe of mortality I do strive
why the stop, why a finite ride."
His words are peppered with anguish, seeking reason,
caught in turmoil in this springing season,
he slumps with head in hand against the bark,
no idea if it's light or dark,
or if he's she or me,
he slumps forlorn neath the tree.
Suddenly a voice is heard, soft and free,
the soft free voice of the tree.
"Hi, hope you're well and you don't mind my interject
and what follows isn't ferocious direct,
I know you're not waiting for epiphany."
said the tree.
"Or thoughts of gravity,
or eyeing me up for oars to power ships at sea,
I see you want to quell mortality.
Living isn't a simple thing I know,
leaves they leave and i'm covered in snow,
those nervous budding days that precede thundering green sat row by row
are lost  in kindle by the firework show,
burnt or brittle and toppled by go.
The tree pauses for a sec as the guy listens with a heart full of woe,
then the tree continues as the day starts to glow.
"It's transient and sad this life we have live,
some things are taken when we don't want to give,
and it hurts when we lose the things we love,
but for that there's a reason
and that reason is love.
It aches when their tangible space we can no longer share
and their dalliance as it stopped as their life was short and rare
but the loss is felt because of care
we wouldn't miss if we didn't love
every end would have the green of rub,
because love lasts for every season
in whatever weather whether or not,
so with love comes loss, i'm afraid and amazed to say,
loss comes with love i'm amazed and afraid to say,
if you're finding hard to deal or wanna express maybe say something to say,
I want to write about my leaves leaves now so at your leisure be on your way."
The guy breaths in and out slow for a couple of moments and into hence
and mulls on the tree's words as he moves  from to supple from tense,
and gets up ready
with something wanting to say
and as he bes on his way the guy opens his mouth and mouths into May...

"I'm missing you today and everyday since you went away,
Jan the 25th to precise,
I miss your kindness,
I miss your nice.
When we met in June tons of moons ago
we took our time from seed to grow,
watered with careful rush amid a loud hush,
slowly placing blocks while aware of the splendour of the finished build on the box,
germinating tender.
We grew up in each moment we spent smiling,
in every chat in every dialling.
We were kids eh, buying Kid A,
I held you in May and every other month I remember,
Laughs in December, hugs in September
the summer rush of August,
high fives in July.
We went to the cinema our close was abundant,
we had a handle on home and knew what fun meant,
going to concerts, exploring contours,
flying strong with the span of condors,
taking in breath, rising to soar,
moving together, using the force,
galloping free with the wildest horse,
we could talk in code, dabble in Morse,
our peace, our understanding a calming course.
Our strait newly furrowed no burrowing head in sand,
our relaxed eyes rest on promised land ;
It exists now, it exists right here,
the earth of Utopia burying fear,
it melds in the moment when you’re near,
I think I’ve found my lifetime career!
When you felt I was feeling depressed
you brushed off a burden and cleaned up my mess,
blocked those anxiety yelps,
knowing every little helps,
zapping away fear with your glorious medication,
here it is now, your standing ovation.
Then we didn’t see each other for ages,
as we ran through our own books on separate pages.
Then we bumped into each other and got back in touch,
not just a handshake and then a farewell wave
but shimmering convergence with all that you gave.
We got drunk and laughed as one turned into a few
knowing by now I’d go anywhere with you,
your witty jibes and blooming vernacular,
******* you’re blooming spectacular,
gulping fast, no little sips,
I loved your smile and your jiving hips.
You put the ancient in fossil,
the patience in tousle,
the strength in muscle,
the brave in bottle,
the brain in Aristotle,
the flame disparaged nozzle,
the fall in topple,
the tact in subtle,
the rain in puddle,
you stop the reign of muddle,
the pain and struggle,
the mazy puzzle,
the lazy shuffle,
the cake and truffle which I baked befuddled
after waking troubled and craving cuddles
then you came to me with heavenly huddles.
You’re the sunlight sweet sound of suggestion
And take the risk out of a game of Russian Roulette with a Smith and Wesson,
could never rue letting with you,
your moves define perfection with sublime projection.
You gently gild and made love a reality,
engaged me in present the future a fallacy.
But now you’re gone.
There are so many who loved you after you’d met
And they all miss you lots, especially your pets.
It's all the same without you on earth but different,
wise guys still get hints,
Polos are still mints,
sand castles still do best on the beach,
James still has the largest peach,
supercallifrilous
will still be expealidousis,
they'll still be osmosis,
my fake sibling will still be my faux sis.
They'll be dawn still & moonlight thrill
& silly cats on window sill, still, still.
They'll be puns on the hill & run of the mill,
they'll be hibernation curl to blossoming trill, chances missed & days to rue
& summer nights with joyful coo,
but still's not the same
without you;
because there is one less friend of cats & dogs,
this little world has one less cog.
I don’t know where you are,
you hit the end or the start?
And maybe when I end you’ll be starting my heart
and sat on my heart like a star
giving a light in the dark,
I love you Rebecca, wherever you are.”
The guy stops on the spot and mouths into May,
Rebecca my sweet, I’ve missed you today.

Only places between us.
Narrow burrows,
furrowed rows,
and thick tracks,
and motorways.
They look small from above.
Slight interconnections
gathering for stride;
your eyes,
oh,
your eyes.

In the real world
you don't walk unexpectedly
around a corner
and say hi
and make smiles rise,
instead boring practicality
keeps us apart,
yawning gaps
on the map.
But miles don't stop smiles
rising
in a place
in a space
between us.

After tiny explosions of green,
settlers rest,
far from frost.
Arrival untouched
by inevitable eviction
but knowing they will tumble
and become brittle,
crunched on ground
made splendid in their shadow.
Not cowering,
this time is greeted as their time,
finite and towering.

Don't prepare
waves
to engulf
and subdue starts.
You are welcome,
like the light rain.
Be fair:
nourish with flourish
and care.

There is no dressing this up,
or hiding behind
protective walls of feigned indifference;
our ending is sad.
It is not a transformative stop
where hatches are battened down
with the promise of spring burst,
our leaves will stay away,
for good;
the midst of us going
is final
as
bills
for flowers
on hearse.
Not that we thought our days would last
indefinitely,
we didn't think at all
of the days of not knowing what to do,
without me
and you.

Being a weekend binge drinker I don’t really like Mondays
my poor fragile mind is in a alcohol daze,
my limbs are slow and heavy, each movement is a trial
I feel like I’ve ran a marathon after swimming the length of The Nile,
I lop around all zombiefied my legs are full of lead
my eyes are groaning loudly, like an extra from The Walking Dead,
I’m on the verge of snoozing, I do that sleepy involuntary ****,
I pinch myself real hard “Si you have to stay awake in work!”.
So I take a trip to the disabled toilet and have a nap on the ceramic floor,
hoping I’ll feel much better after this tad of a tiny snore,
I rouse after ten minutes and decide to control this ***** ridden strife,
I must get a grip soon, I want a grasp on this Monday life,
a light bulb pings out of nowhere to brighten my maudlin mood,
this sweet recovery will be engendered by lots scrumptious of food,
so I indulge in a savoury overload and gorge on toast and crisps;
Discos, Hula Hoops, Quavers and defo tons of Frisps,
on my dinner I scoff a Mac Donalds and then a Greg’s sausage roll,
this hungry Homer gluttony helps to sustain my whole,
the calorific sustenance does it’s job and my hangover starts to diminish,
I gaze at the computer’s clock and think “hey it’s time I finished!”.
I ponder “ohh I can glide home knowing my day is done
and if it stays sweet and bright I can enjoy a few hours in the sun,
after that I can watch Breaking Bad and catch up with Coronation Street
while busting out the texts and having more to eat,
yeah I’m see what Walter White’s up to while being really greedy,
wait a ******* minute, tonight’s when I’ve said I’d help the needy!
*******, **** **** **** ****, that’s my evening of chilling down the spout,
rather than a hammock night in I’ve got to venture out
and feed a load of ungrateful gits who don’t even clear their plates
and ask me if I’m a cross dresser while sniggering with their mates,
rather then see if Jesse gets caught by Hank and how the story unfolds
I’ll have to scrub those scrubbers dishes pristine while wearing marigolds,
as oppose to nodding off reading with a Rustlers under my front room lamp
I’ll have to put a load of cutlery away after making a 20 sugar brew for a *****!"
So I decide the Wellspring is off tonight as I really can’t be assed going
I’ll just graft extra hard for *** next week and keep the drinks a flowing,
so I’m just about to pick my phone up and call in with a excuse that’s pretty lamey
but then I realise if I don’t go I won’t get to see Amy!
Suddenly there is a spring in my step, my motion feels on point
I shower very quickly and post drying roll a joint,
I have a zip in my posture as I sail and blaze down the road
all my thoughts of staying in they instantly erode,
I think “Amy is ace and topper, in her company all is fun
she’d make a day of gloom resplendent with the sun,
her chirping silly noises are always brill in the air
she turns my giggles to def com one, I laugh without a care,
I mean I know I'm hilarious, I can feel my own strengths in my head and tummy
but when I'm with Amy I'm even more funny!  
She makes it all sunny!
Cos we can berate that gormless Declan who eats with the speed of a cheetah
say he's troffing all the time, like a professional eater,
we can spray a bit of water, have a lot of chat
teleport through nonsense with the free degree of claptrap,
chill around the washer where all the cool kids hang
kicking back like Gs, knowing all the slang,
flick a fleck of sausage then have a speaking swirl
flex the talking muscles with sweet balletic twirl.
I mean she's not perfect, she could improve her lot
she's pretty immodest, always going on about how she's so hot,
alright supermodel, calm down, yeah, okay you were blessed with good looks
be you know being arrogant really ******* *****.
And she don't like the ***** cats, her brain must have a feline blur
how can she not warm to their whiskers and their contented little purrs,
her eyes sometimes don't always work and she is optically infirm
and she steals pies from the scrotes, she don't know to wait her turn,
she'd stab you in the back for a go at the counter, she's always trying to grab the lead,
and added to all that she can't even ******* read!
(I'm surprised you can read this actually.)
But i'll overlook these foibles, her flaws aren't yet that drastic
she has to merge some yang in there to be so yin fantastic!
Ahh, in this life where what was can no longer leave a reflection
it's always super to feel the natural flow of connection;
glowing with simplicity
our joyous synchronicity!"
So i approach the door of The Wellspring and feel sweet and glad
and think, "you know for a Monday you aint turned out too bad!".

Like the new hot air
you are what it is
straight away,
warm,
to the heat of our norm
while it's our while;
all is best
in your smile.

The roar of apparatus,
very fine
we speak;
soar the map of clap us
every time
we seek.

Superlatively brilliant
you held my hand
with an accord all your own;
that was a time of magic
when it was easy
to be air
with each other.

What a good pet,
a bite waiting behind the curtain,
a flash with her talons
drawing blood,
you might not see it
but this is love.
Always wide eyed
from the moment we met,
a chaotic bundle
my lovely pet.
Delightfully vicious,
fanged with sublime,
tabs of mayhem
every time
& as near as I'd want
to totally mine;
on the stage of herself,
her little wild self.

Many people have phobias in this life,
what for others seems innocuous fills them full of strife,
some can keep firmly on their lid
when they see an arachnid,
they are calm and serene
but then cower when they see forked lightning beams.
Some can stroke a snake
but when thinking of flying begin to shake,
or can skip through massive open spaces with joyful vigour
but when slightly confined begin to quiver.
Me?  I found great white sharks most perturbing
even a picture of one was completely disturbing,
their visage draining the light from the air,
I saw a totally cold demented stare,
terror lurked in every photographic depiction,
like reading a letter calling me to conscription,
I felt briny constriction,
I'd shiver at an image of a wake they’d left in the sea,
that’s made by a thing that has the death glare of Ted Bundy,
making ominous mist,
this big fish is as crazy as Albert Fish.
Smelling blood from far away, never needing to sleep,
these great white traits gave me the creeps;
barely leaving a silhouette in the sun,
but with the ferocity of Attila The ***,
marauding silently to selected prey
even the water gets out of the way.
The seal was just chilling, thinking of going home,
he’d had enough of a daily roam,
about to paddle back in leisurely slow
but then it appeared from below...
a serrated chasm charnel pit,
Atlantis nuclear bombs would look like it,
fanged latch on, a phantasmagoria spectacular;
it bites for keeps this oceanic Dracula.
The aqua fills with gushing red,
it submerges, fully fed.
Anything to do with them would send me to terror filled gorge,
The Reef, or Sharky and George,
I’d scream on instant at the thought of a fin
that dorsal jut carrying sin.
But then one day when I was cowering in the kitchen after one had surprised me on page 15 of The Metro News,
I thought “Si, you gotta banish these deep sea blues.
You can’t keep dropping your pizza at the merely the sight
of a dreadful gaping awful great white.
It’s not a good state of head to engage with fear,
especially with something that’s not even here.”.
So a couple of days later when I was pretty ******
I was like “right, let’s have it you massive fish!”.
I picked up the newspaper and looked right at one,
initially my startle went to a million from none,
but I held my nerve and slowly the burst of scare began to ebb,
I gingerly untangled myself from this great white web.
Don’t get me wrong like getting over anything it took a bit of time,
I could be whistling through Town feeling fine,
and then see an advert for Mega Shark V Crocosaurus and feel a hint of chill in my spine,
but as the minutes turned into months I could handle impromptu shark,
a pic of one wouldn’t disrupt the larks,
or cast a brief pall on a sunny day in the park.
Now I can watch Blue Planet without apprehension,
in fact when David says “great white” it gets my attention,
in an inquisitive sense of “let’s see what these guys have got to give,
we’ve wasted years but now let’s live!”.
I love the malleability of the mind and it’s super anoint,
it can dimmish with ease what seemed like fixed point,
ingrained weighty states can be waved through;
foggy mire to brilliant blue.
What can appear to be etched for rest of the days
can just be a shackled phase,
a bricked up room growing doors.
Ahh, it’s Saturday, I think I'll watch Jaws.

Moments fully lived
on grass
in sun
under leaves
with seasons to come.

Jigsaw puzzles completed
when you're around,
Rubix Cubes done instantly
as you speak your sounds,
you guide me through a crossword, cryptic
or not,
I can work out any sum
and untangle every knot;
by your side it's easy, you engender all my see,
you're simply amazing
and a place I want to be.

You halt stooping low,
put the stops on it;
foe by foe,
blow by blow,
diminished,
and
flurry
in finish.
All doubts called out;
you watch them wither
in calm mood
and tense,
speaking softly
to sense,
brightening dull
that forgot the joy
of
projection