Back in the day when all the trees would sway, and the children would play

In the sun, in the shade
through the rain
never kept at bay

puddles needed splashing,
skin needing a tanning.

We laughed once, we cried when we fell
learnt from the scrapes and bruises

It’s a lot different now.
Oh take me back to the 90s.

Amid a crowd
At a 90s bar
Sat dozens of people
Making no sound
All sorts of stories
They withheld from others
All they wanted was a ray of sunshine
Someone to light up the gloom
And in that very 90s bar
That day they saw a flower bloom.
A new waitress walked inside
In her hair a flower
And as everyone stared at that colour in hair
A flame sparked
And she brought life
Even without trying to
She loved and cared for herself
And others loved her too
She raised many lives out of sadness
A medicine to many pains
All the people in the bar now knew
How to discard pain.
It's about loving oneself
And caring first for your own
Bring yourself up
And then with your flame
Others will alight
Accept yourself first
And then you will know your might
In the hubbub of life
Don't forget to love your own being
And everyday when you look in the mirror
At your self smile
You are God's best creation
Love yourself and care for your mind
And when you see flowers blossom wherever you go
There will be a secret behind your smile
Your mind is looked after and so is your soul
By loving your own self you brought about a change
And if all of us do that ,
Then we will see the difference
And in Michael Jackson's words,
"Heal the world
Make it a better place
For YOU and for ME
And the entire human race. "
And to heal the world
Heal yourself first
And to care for each other
Care for yourself first.
And for everlasting love
Love yourself first.

Norwich, Mid90s: grunge was washedup,
the altrock baton passed to Britpop.

Major junta jackspratted on last gasps,
******* diet strict as Mars.

There was this flat (we called it 'The Flat'),
which shanty comp 70s-stranded by Thatch

-er lost several dipsomanic 6thformers to.
We mistook slurring for sibilance of cool.

Endangered National Handbag paid the rent
for teenage mutant nightmare tenants.

2's company, 14's a crowd,
but 2 schoolleavers had 12 mates pileround.

3.23pm, my limerent object arrived
in clanky clatter of gaybasketed bike.

Strawbripe, barelylegal designer baggirl
set my protoincel neurals a-gambol.

1/2 Finnish; sphinxy,ditzy, boho gimma.
Sly & scatty, her moniker Marika.

Freshwater tinseltown scintilleyes green.
French negatitties, pixielean.

Henna'd hair l/ wickered wine, was it her
'lightreflectingboostertechnology' conditioner?

How I wanted to **** her ingenue face
l/ a nirmal, holierthanherbal vape

(a smokefree snowflake anachronism
- demeritgoods, consumers risked 'em

more in the 90s). Calumeting Marlboro Lites,
our lungs were younger than our nights.

We were both kooky bodgers, artprodgers;
on cropped jeanjacket's back she embroidered

daisies. Hippyskirt; swisscheesed sweater: her chic,
bubblegrunge. What boosted Nordically feerique

aura was jiggyless iciness re me, who had to get
toodrunktospeak to speak to her, wolf drugs to misinterpret

frigid emeralds scintilleyes' looks
over paraphernalia tables, daisydoodled schoolbooks.

Yet my limerent project & I still had a connection,
my filtering fixation such that even

this selfdescription didn't jade our arty amity:
she a 'lovechild of Sweet Valley High & the Prodigy'!

I, title of the 1-hit-wonder by Wheatus.
She, intoxicatingly naff petitbourgeois priestess.

Arcades ambo, but no Roger & Monica,
peripheral scuzzbard was I to Marika.

My odeballs couldn't humect the friendzone.
Still, homelier than my brokenhome.


2

Madboy tracking solace to a posh squat,
well, posh to a point: red tap ran hot.

Mad boys meeting at exclusive dive
to tope tarantulajuice & **** hotknives.

Or snort les neiges d'antan,
Blizzards of Nozz l/ noo tamarah.

Talcum simulacrums up our schnozzies
(whuzz billy once, but cut l/ Whitehall prozzies).

Tonsillitis torpedoes of Thai grass, mentalated
cigarettes. Or on soapbar sedated, superjaded.

Tripping on Blickling shrooms grit tea.
Young lungs sang, limbs yinged geometry

whilst Roxy Rongwroom, our resident axeman
fingerbanged his Satyrcaster crisp as a catscan,

replinkating Radiohead & the Roses.
I aimed oeillades at a Finglish vogueress,

Finglish backfisch. Bicyclemonarch of my heart,
whose gaybasketed pigeon streethawk's ballpark

resalevalue could stake a hand of Scabby Queen
(E.T.'s dodo claimed by the one w/ knuckles haem-

iferous). But amphibious suns, scintilleyes green
had scintilleyes for precocious partymachine

other than I. Before she soured 17,
rival Flat Packers pawed her pixielean

pert friedeggs outta cups o' Topshop nylace.
Venus twagged our starcharts (O zodiache!),

yet her callipygian frontallobes I got
t'Platonically frot as I joypopped

& jorummed & carpenoctemmed,
young&dumbed & caromed l/ a bottle kite to the bottom

of the class (of '97), an 'F' for selfpreservation.
I was the winner, my own worst. Our eviction

my selfharmageddon bloodbath's aftermath.
Did I need a bath after? You do the blood math.

Was Giroday mixology to blame, cumulative
gilravage? Or slower khaosmosis of an abusive

homelife? I lost it same night the paps killed Di,
but I was in theatre when anchors went dewyeyed,

so out-emoting Blair was no cute excuse.
Maybe I just couldn't handle my tarantulajuice.

Or was loss of my dignity, sanity, figurative ****,
literal blood a disinhibited fit

of anterotic pique? Hell hath no fury
l/ starved barmy ardour, undiagnosed BPD.

But Children of the Corn coroners
took down my Weetabix crucifix particulars

years ago; my membrumvirile verges on marcescent.
Hormonally leavening/ haunting to the teenpoet  

juve me, but 1st cardiocracker was more brainwaif
than Pandora Louise Elizabeth

in cold light of recency bias 'Eureka'.
Coz decadeslater I don't know what I saw in Marika.

I have brothers to love me l/ a brother.
That sweet 16 solipsister was just another

90s indie hippychick. If I had another chance,
I'd be 1 of the coolkids, Love's Insouciants,

not a farouche velcroid for Marika.
I'd toy w/ her l/  this hindsighted heckler, nostaljoker.

& not lose my cool l/  madboy who'd never seen
a fangast fit-as Finglish indiechick,
pixielean.

You've got mail

Is it weird that I want to hear that again

Not
you have a notification

but mail

Waking up and running to the mailbox
heart pounding with excitement and fear

is your letter here yet


That one thought
everyday
carrying my little legs
racing
in the hopes that I would see your handwriting

and when that letter finally came

like a squirrel with a prized nut
I race away to the safety of my bed with
a flashlight
some poptarts

and pages of your letter

So happy



that I have a friend like you.

Bling Bang Boom
Tight little itty-bitty *****
If it don't fit, don't force it
You can lubricate it, so you can appreciate it

Oops, did I say that out loud?
Wearing Dr Dre is a *****, when you make a glitch

**** this gun like a real cool chick
It's barrels aren’t that hot or that ******* thick
And when it comes, blow your brains, while you’re still in cuffs
Elvis offended nerds, while doing those pelvic thrusts
But, he was merely having fun and just being ******* futuristic
While your parents were secretly playing with ***** vibrating plastic

I used to call myself at that time, ‘The Magnificent One’
Hell, I don't call myself that now, but I still believe it to be true
At the time, the frigid white kids would only spectate from the lower balcony
While some ***** white kinds, were leaping over with jealousy, to get downstairs
Because, that's where the black dudes would occasionally perform, their ****** affairs

Bling Bang Boom
Tight little itty-bitty *****
Protect yourself with a little soap bubble
If you want help, I can go pop, without getting into too much trouble

Oops, did I say that out loud?
Wearing Dr Dre can mean defeat when others hear your beat

How can I put the creeps down, when I've been creeping from afar?
I'm another mother ******' world wide pop star
They called me, ‘A Hip-Hop Bipolar Southpaw’
Always left swinging up and down like a friggin outlaw
They warned you that, I would drive all the the kiddies insane
So don't blame me for the way your kids now truly reign

Bling Bang Boom
Tight little itty-bitty *****
Thank you for being so sweet and ever so cute
Next time remind me, to always switch the ****** to mute

Oops, did I say that out loud?

There's now proof, that a Russian flesh-eating cannibal is in the good old US of A

He would offer you toxic ingredients, including gasoline and lighter fluid, I'd say

But, because its tell-tale scaly sores, are similar to another well known leacher

They initially played down concerns, saying, "they're not seeing signs of the creature"

My boyfriend had maggots coming out of his leg, after a recent foreign scare

I know people don't want to hear stuff like that, but it is really happening out there



Snap goes the toothless crocodile, one, two, three

Wangsta da Gangsta, had a great haul

Ring a ding a ling, 'cause they deliver the first for free

Jim and Joan went into da hood, to fetch nothin' much at all



They fall to the charlatans, that promise you a crystal ball

A little at first and then some more, that's for sure

It will make you snap, give you curls and dance you a little twirl

Star gazing thru the sun ray and day tripping into a wayward night

That's why if you use crocodile juice, it will do more than shake ya loose

Destroying our souls, creating huge holes and build mountains out of moles



Snap goes the toothless crocodile, one, two, three

Wangsta da Gangsta, had a great haul

Ring a ding a ling, 'cause they deliver the first for free

Jim and Joan went into da hood, to fetch nothin' much at all



Mr Jeffrey Vint has become less popular among his abusers

I say, "they're all losers", but I guess, beggars can't be choosers

Some mother's even gave birth with two thumbs, but those babies are now total ****

Others think the monster could be at large, maybe roaming your neighbourhood  

Put a stop to this croc's chomp, before it destroys everything in the swamp

Get your doctor to prescribe a stronger drug, to conquer that evil imposter  



Snap goes the toothless crocodile, one, two, three

Wangsta da Gangsta, had a great haul

Ring a ding a ling, 'cause they deliver the first for free

Jim and Joan went into da hood, to fetch nothin' much at all.

I'm all for peace and the hippie days  

We were the children of the 60s, layin' about and lettin' our hair sprout  

We were influenced as much as we influenced others  

Flower power didn't work, maybe it's just the American way, no doubt  

Turning over all the apple carts, should've just turned the other cheek my baby  

Some say, I went too far, is it because, i've got such a rebel heart? Maybe.  


Hippies have survived since the caveman days  

Sometimes hiding behind societies blurry daze  

Never wanting to upset the nations orderly ways  

Always demonstrating for their true beliefs in a cloudy haze.  


Now it feels like I've been jabbed, with a poison dart  

So deep down inside my experienced, but innocent rebel heart  

That 60s biz was just our breakfast and we hadn't even got to lunch yet  

If I was a new gen baby, I could still show others love and peace, I bet  

Give me a chance at showing you, that I'm not that different than you  

Go ahead, ask me questions, there well overdue.  


Hippies have survived since the caveman days  

Sometimes hiding behind societies blurry daze  

Never wanting to upset the nations orderly ways  

Always demonstrating for their true beliefs in a cloudy haze.  


Not changing my ways, but adapting my ways, is what I need to do  

I'll listen to others and always take your cue, to try and remove the venom for you  

It might not happen overnight, it could take a while, alright!  

Maybe I'll go with the flow or maybe wake-up in a sweat, in the middle of the night  

Let me get my groove back and things will change, we'll go back to the start  

Just forgive me and always remember, I was born with this rebel heart.  


Hippies have survived since the caveman days  

Sometimes hiding behind societies blurry daze  

Never wanting to upset the nations orderly ways  

Always demonstrating for their true beliefs in a cloudy haze.

we'd wake up and play with magic
like any other game of pretend
bath towel tied into a cape
we'd approach an empty plastic top hat
wand in hand
 
we were tapping into an ancient power
that we barely even knew
we've played a superhero, Sub-zero
and now, a miracle worker
there was nothing we couldn't do
 
we'd climb trees to the summit branches
as high as we'd dare to go
we'd lower the hoop and dunk with ease
alley-oops, 360s
sometimes in slow-mo
 
there was nothing but room
to grow and explore
frontiers of the imagination
seized on roller blades with plastic swords
 
we'd tie skateboards to the back of bicycles
and Jamaican bobsled down the street
we were free ninjas in the 90s
off to adventures no one sees
 
we'd front roll down hills like hedgehogs
we'd scrape knees
we'd footrace to the stop sign and back
to pretend we're going faster
we'd kick clouds of dust in our tracks
 
we'd steal bricks from the neighbor's garden
and throw them into lakes to see the splash
we'd throw pebbles to see how high they'd go
or paper planes from the top of the staircases
one time, we jumped off:
it was a dare
we did it though
 
we unscrewed the air cap from the tires
of our enemies' parked cars
we clapped back with super soakers
the block was truly ours
 
we'd play until the streetlights came on
with more discoveries left unseen
and in the shadows while sleeping
we'd play catch with our dreams

'And when was this? I dunno, I dunno:
like everything else, twenty years ago.' - August Kleinzahler

I
Whosis slunk next to the rastamagnet
dj booth, in a limabeanhued suit
jacket, limabean sleeves rolledup to
deploy albino ancons for jostling.
II
My ****** lungs ached; gluttonous Venomised
pelicanbills. Cig o' no mercy, cig of life.
Serpivolent smoke is nicocreaming
ceiling of this dive Dasein dosses in.
III
Unrequiting snoutcloud of her chuffing
form siffles thru her mousy enamel.
'Light reflecting booster technology',
advertising Boswellox, scents her hair.
IV
Male Black Widow Complex boings in my brain,
as the vogueress exits conceivable zone
of address. Yet she cigawrenches
my stalking thoughts across the pumptup ballroom.
V
O those farouche salad nights following
swotting up in the humid Octagon!
Male Black Widow Complex, th'always boinging,
lidded by lemony orange lager.
VI
I crashed Crasherkid frabble, rocked to
DJ Shoppinghour feat. MC Niche Jah.
My Sax Pustules & Dead Kinnocks LPs
accusingly mouldered in my heart.
VII
Crasherkids twatted then, dated now, now
grooveriders haggard. But time was the thud
of arterial Cherry7up
was the dub of their youthful BPM.
VIII
Triptown beefnecks w/ classic legoman's
Acid House ecaf (before e-cafes
had come & gone), mandy stag party.
I still slow my pace at their fearless napes.
IX
The rock club had delusions of grunger,
crush at the bar was lumberjack cubism.
Era of Jingajing-chicka-jing-jing Kurt,
anno domudhoney, left a zeitgash.
X
& in the goth club, cadavolescent,
guylinered Xennials listened to
Placebo, but poo-pooed manginas.
Identi90s: genres, not genders.
XI
Blotto elbows on sudsy bar, I cross
lanky barkeep's gulchy palm w/ nugget
for latest in a lost count of snakebites.
Streak of **** is a broom in a skinnytie.
XII
'I'm hyperboring as much as you!' quip I
to a cheetahthinking softdrinker.
There'd be no ruction if pickled franion
spilt his Tab Clear Kaliber, H2ooze.
XIII
Yestreen's teen mums of teen mums, renubile
on the glash. Simuladies who soft soap
saps to buy them...a drink, QVCexy.
If shopgilfs surrender the goods, QVChy.
XIV
Whosis, tattie-bogie of the floor,
turned Turok w/ liebestorschlusspanik.
But his limabean lines are jejune, even to
zirconia Zsa Zsas on the zhelf.
XV
Whosis, lima green last chancer, I'm a
aphroluddite like you. Both crud dancers
too, corybantersauruses. It's all
smoke 'n' mingers & we've got lunge cancer.
XVI
'There's a party on the hillside, would you like
to come? Bring your own cup & saucer
& your own cream bun!' Friends joyride
home dead, so ride dead joy home alone.
XVII
Simian, simulacrum, something for
the weekend, sir? Or are weekends just for
something before ip dip dogshit
******* ******* silly *** meet the kids then what?
XVIII
Stereotripe, not Stereospeare, yet unknown
plexors would kick in. Or was it the joypop?
Popliteal self on higher neon knees,
Mother Brown's got nothing on me!
XIX
Anansesum of my fancy footwork,
Bez in blossom under tiger strobe.
Chemical cochise, call me 'Tarantulip':
totem, tarantism, bruxism, bloom.
**
Yeah, I liked DJ Offroseanne before
the coward sounds of Simoncowellland
killed Cool. Taxi for the Corpse of Cool/
fetch your coat, love, you've pulled the Corpse of Cool!
XXI
Since the ears dot, aural laurels were hot.
& the beat authenticity lays down
is still the drill sergeant instrumental
that leads blind zeit pipers of all pied geists.
XXII
Lima bean fugue, forearm flash, Dear John tats.
Nocturnal vernal mental of the comeup
becomesdown w/ no summerlove, bad trip
(Raggaman Kafka say 'Uneazee Dreamz').
XXIII
'Taxi Driver' cinematography,
neon printcest of clubland signs dimmens.
Pick up your tuttifrutti braindamage
- time to go home, hungover twichildren.