I'm glad when humans were new they walked about
and didn't just sit and stew in their own juices,
they got up and toured the hue of places,
and saw unfamiliar faces;
"Hi, how are you, are you a person too?  Fancy setting up camp?  If you need a light I've got a lamp!"
So cities emerged and created verges
and separate surges,
blossoming splurges,
in concrete or tent,
which is great.
The only thing is that means our location
can kinda pre ordain our destination,
as in I can't say...
"I'm going now Mum, just having a walk to the Hanging Gardens of Babylon."
Or
"Cheers my friend for the afternoon talk, i'm now going to stroll to the sunset in New York."
If we are not there we need plans to get there,
bus, then a train, then, maybe, a plane.
Our want can't just be unravelled,
if it's distant we need to travel.
As much as I want to say, "hey Lou, what you doing today?
Feel like a dally in the park with thundering larks and then when the light goes dark come to my room and create our own spark?" i'm restricted, constricted by distance, our distant dance.
But
distance is not just measured in geographical far,
not every journey requires a car,
sweet synchronicity ignores miles and yawning gaps,
especially when there's high fiving in our synapse;
ahh, to spend Sunday drifting in and out of naps,
without eyes on the time,
intertwined in the sunshine.
Yeah, distant may seem a trial
but galaxy hopping is nothing
if it's really worth the while.

If I could do
the way you make me feel
I'd hunger with colour
and fall,
at sing,
with rainbow;
all in the much
of your touch.

I barely heard the noise outside
but knew it was loud
when others started teeming in,
thanking me for fission skill
and atomic will.
I hadn't the heart to tell them
the thinking of you
made the earth clap,
not the heating of hydrogen;
I knew we were the equal parts of the same element
and realising that
I was in my element;
a space shared with you,
that boomed
and sounded like the start of a big bomb.

Summer may be the death of you,
it's when you stretch sinew.
Do  joints wear in hot air,
when you chase every fly,
with all pounce,
with all ounce, of power;
in May may you reduce your hours.
But, not to suppose,
be breeze blows,
& free flows.

I want you like hulla wants baloo,
like scared craves boo,
like the sky covets blue.
Like a pain thrives on ache,
like hail asks for compacted snowflakes,
like a creator seeks makes,
as a puddle dreams of lakes,
as a kleptomaniac reaches for takes,
as chilly buns call the bake;
I want you as wit wants woo,
you you
you,
tu whit tu whoo.

Here and now you are
at your fullest,
neither blooming or waning
but rushing with
the strength of today.
Aware of fall
and remembering shoots
through
barrage and mirage;
the balance of transience.

Have a happy day,
Don’t let the system get you down,
Don’t get the ties tangled on your dressing gown,
Don’t worry about money there will always be some more,
Don’t fret about dying, for that there is no cure,
Don’t sit around and crave the love you think eludes,
Don’t scowl at the late bus driver, you are only being rude,
Don’t think the best of your every word, ego is a fickle friend,
Don’t horde all your drugs, you’ll always have to lend,
Don’t mock somebody because they are not the same as you,
Don’t believe in absolutes, not everything is true,
Don’t discard a smile, it’s good for you, you know,
Have a happy day and read some Edgar Allen Poe!

The bright in your face
makes all my butterflies
come out,
it's the natural reaction to such dazzle;
so simple, so rising.

Always blossom
when you appear,
the sweet knew
at the forefront
of new;
wonderfully,
delightful.

You've got softer these days.
When we met you were fiercer,
propensity to vicious in all your paws
and claws,
but,
now,
you relax in moments
and stretch out full, unafraid and happy in the sun;
love makes me feel secure too,
strong and lit,
ahh my less ferocious domesticated Poppet.

What is sometimes seen as glorious razzmatazz
would be impossible
without you;
you put the B in my be
easily

This is nothing,
no inclination of like,
no spike or turn,
no bridges burnt
no lessons learnt,
no yearn or thirst
or rivers' burst,
no magpies or butterflies,
no omens, signs,
no reading mime.

No building dreams with plasticine,
no schemes
or seams
to pick apart,
nothing to start.

Something warm
occurs
when
you’re near;
simple fireworks work
and cover
the sky
with joy.

With your eyes on me I can see.
You put the ball in the hole,
& step from fall;
dear dancing in aeroplane summer.
Your tinder smile,
not touched Tinder for a while.

Next time
hatches will batten down,
slumbers start,
laces tied
and
cold proof coats dry
before loose leaves
struggle to stay.
Plans,
preparation against a season.
Until
blossom begins,
prising open hibernation curls
with the promise
of something.

The shape
of you
goes fast,
as do dreams
of everlast:
please stay baby,
please stay
around:
a second with you,
I raise The Crown.

I miss you like maps miss fingers,
Like mikes miss singers,
Like bells miss ringers,
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 necrophiliacs  miss graves,
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 goodfellas,
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 how 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.
Like a phone misses a ring
Like every misses thing.

Happy Mother's Day you ace...

It would be amazing if I got three wishes,
firstly I'd give all the hungry lots of food dishes,
then I'd ask for 100 trillion and distribute joy to myself & tons of other folk,
so there was happy in all that they spoke,
and causes of sadness wouldn't be anymore,
that's the first two chosen easy but when it gets to the third I'm not very sure.
I don't need to wish for charisma, I've got plenty of that,
I don't need to ask for head warmth in winter as I've got tons of great hats,
don't need to ask for a feline, I know Poppet the cat,
don't need to ask for higher tolerance to *****, I know my way around a bottle of ***,
and certainly wouldn't want to ask for another Mum...

As I love the way that at a 100 miles an hour you often speak,
and when you go out a Weatherspoon's burger is high on you list of what to eat,
I love the way that if someone was thirsty you'd always offer a cup,
and if another was hurting you'd give a hand to help them up,
I love how your empathy is abundant and everywhere,
I love how with your kindness you always show care,
I love how you surprised me with a Super Nes on Christmas 92,
I love how you'd try to raise a smile in those that have few,
I love how you accept people just the way they are,
I love how in an ocean of light they still could find your star.

So I still need to work on the third wish, that is true
but always always always Mum, I love you!

Oh my:
I just accidentally phoned
my Mum
when I attempted to call my drunken mate a cab,
how fab!

Mum, I try not to be aware of the seconds when you won't be here anymore (and when that happens surely the world will stop and pause, and then applause your wonderful tour de force).

I'm happy that the mistake ring
gave me extra moments of the life you bring.

Chatting with you
is a special delight,
you could turn dark rooms free
with your splendid bright.

When I see you,
near,
or far,
I always quicken my steps,
the eager to be closer brings rapidity to the fore;
the seeking fast
wanting more.

Because of love a grief will happen
that will make tiny uprisings of cold
thaw
in a furnace of today.
When it ends,
unlike you 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.

In all supposed
possibilities
in the universe
we talk
with unison magnificent;
always my best for you
in the whole wide world.

How can i not be flowery
when potpourri
fathered me.

So quick to make you gone,
although you will go
soon
but,
for now,
you could brighten a waking
with made days
under easy sun,
the simple
with aplomb,
being all you are;
assured with here.

When I used to be congested
I coughed
and spat
with all my might,
but at this moment
my plugged drains
with a flick
of your hair,
no more need for splutter chucks,
all types of plague run off
when you swish with
all of you.

Things start in different ways,
sometimes soft and faint
hardly rippling
still
but
gentle
with glorious intent.
Or, instantly sudden,
sodden in anew,
caught in the unstoppable
thrall
of quickening season,
fast and swift,
with love the reason

The new cold
& what was sun
congregate
in autumn.

Wake in gloom sun,
an absence of one
who bore bright gifts,
seismic shift.
Obliterate landscapes;
purr morn go.

It wasn't a while anymore,
today I saw moored.
As ever a tribble of joy,
you are what what's for,
fore
ahoy!

At the mo
the folds of hot
and cold
won't be
unless
spring is out
and winter continues
to be frosty
too long;
"frosty too long"
as if,
with heat on the back.

Caught in a thought
of you;
carnivals pass without
a clap
and no welcome for
dancing dragons,
a blind spot
to fireworks;
my sky is full of you.
A marathon goes by unacknowledged,
as my eyes
are on a sky
full of you.

Like footsteps that tell of encroachment
you're never
a surprise;
until,
from still
you rise.

When you went i expected rain,
a soft smattering slowly becoming a deluge
that would not wash this day away
but mark it
for others to know an absence
had started.
The clouds didn't defer,
they parted
and the stretching sun ran through
the first hours of loss
to show it goes on
as you will go on.

This morning
frost settled
on petals,
two seasons shared space.
Neither tussled for recognition,
knowing of thaw
and thorn fall
when rose roots rot.
Resplendent in a perfect positioning.

You, not to forget;
as
verdant sinks and slips
a soft green sustains
through thick and thin
and falling rain.

You unforcefully cram
your particles
into every time
of loveliness,
seldom rocked
by
the
tick
tock;
minutes are just moments
that bring
all
your
joy.

Perspective is strange,
it encompasses
many a range,
like when I see Poppet the ****
my joy soars with bliss,
sweet tabby cats don't come much better than this;
I want to hear you purr,
you ace stripy rocket,
I love you lots, Poppet.
But then, to mice it's,
Is that terror getting near
should we plan a run,
torturing us to death
is her idea of fun,
she'll wreak with clawing havoc
& deadly feline mirth,
she'll eat us as she's smiling
& extinguish us from earth;
you're toxic, Poppet.
The juxtapose of difference
stampeding in the air,
to one she rests in bed,
to others coiled in lair.

Nest prepared with care;
waning winter waits
for breaking shell,
and migrates
in the air
of a fledgling spring.

Saccharine mess, bless!

What relieves duress?
Surely love and happiness,
with huge peace caress!.

I think,
at the moment
you could make up a song and i'd know it
inside out
immediately,
you wouldn't have to spend time
teaching me the chorus
i'd know what to say
and more
with aplomb, it sings:
let's discuss how our impromtu is ace
and how we
may have found
a tad of place.
Yeah.

Forgetting fortes
within this conglomerate;
fortified crumble

Scrugged slowy.
And then.
Puny
roared
with impunity.

In a few more hours it'll be time,
until a far away December,
for the last festive clip
of Tim and Dawn,
and then pack away the tree,
but not forlorn;
Yuletide you were wonderful,
songs, laughs
and good tidings to all,
spinning times of splendid,
the comfort of having a ball.
So despite being over,
no hint of a feeling of blue,
because Christmas 2018
you were only you.

When you sit & nonchalantly beam
it is such an enchanted scene;
oh you,
you'd turn a grey sky walk into a sunshine mile,
with your here,
with your smile.

So I wake up & think,
"Ohh, a message on Whatsapp,
I'll check that baby later,
for that nourish I will cater,
hmm outside it looks mild,
take your time Si, punctuality is the last reserve of the boring, said Oscar Wilde.
But you don't want to get the "where have you been" glare & the "I've been sat here for ages" stare."
So I gather my sleepy head with all my power,
get my work game on & hit the shower.
As I cleanse my skin layer by layer I ponder,
"hmm, have I got enough juice in my MP3 player to see me through on the 192?"
I scrub quickly in a ******* sigh,
"oh oh oh fuckkkkk! Si, you've got shower gel in your eye!"
All my thoughts of enough walking music to hurl me up the road are lost in my optic feeling like it's going to explode.
"It hurts! It hurts! ******* vanilla & raspberry,
is the cyclopitic pain really necessary?".
I now don't have time for thoughts of on time hurry
if I'm going blind or not is now my greatest worry.
The stupid anxieties vanish
in minutes of strife,
like they do in real life,
I don't think I'll care that I haven't budgeted for pre payday weekend beer if I get a call saying
you're not here,
& from what I know you disappear.
Not to dwell on what grief does loom,
you & me right now sail through the future gloom;
you're the best of the best
never stop,
I love you
I love you
I love you lots.
This soapy grip on my eye starts to ease,
anxious not
in the July breeze.

It does not seem
things move on
when girders
give way
to heavy stay.
Movement rattles
rutted hiding
from unknown contentment ,
to breath, to gusto.
And move, and move

The good thing
I recks about being bi polar
is playing God
and
The Devil on your own mind controller,
and then letting them both fuse sugar with water to create benign Coca Cola.

You're starting to represent
something wonderful
to me;
ace as summer
beginning to shine.

Not to want to fly,
supposing wings
can bring defeat;
this, not unclipped,
a gentle bloom of plume,
lifting the see, to saw and see.