Snowflakes and  livid.

The blades of grass untidy over some sub saharian variety.
The cumulus  clouds are more down town
with illegal builds shimmering  in the corners.
We look back at our hopes
and belatedly realise baristas have
subverted  our national brew.
Sub let flats with strangers passing through
leaving catering oil drums outside.
Our national prerequisite  minding ones own
allows everything unknowing to go on,
including a morning benefits agency raid.
Rules and queues consigned to ailing  England

They are digging up Richard the Third
under a car park
the last warrior King
to die in open battle,
whilst 10,000 youth cower they were
cheated out of  their Grade C's
in  GCSE English.
With Chivalry sped,
the bien-pensants long gone
another message reads,
the anonymous ripen
their secular plot,
trust in no one
not even yourself
yet blame the last of the good.

The breath made you glad
the believability of feeling closer
as a stone I could never sink
you would be the ballast, the anchor,
the celestial guide
the giver.

Theo pushed further
than the usual merry go round,
hungering for lucre
a pound sign today and clarity afterwards,
breathalyized for sanity
supporters parched by their
concession,
his club outbids on wanted;
a journeyman for a quarter
of the repress.

What a linear experience
with a twisted friend  ?
Safety in solitaire set alone.
blowing away false dandelions.

String vests with spittle trailing
Budvar to invariably show independence,
they snare the spectacles of the respectable evenings sheen,
later calling the night *****, and kicking  hoardings
as if they had wanted to disinter the dammed.
The former love of parakeets,
by once fine people,
also released Yellow to this New World
matching the jaundiced jab
of a hooligan denying  his head

The ground bubbled  neath, February's  awakening
stoic crocuses stood water  deep,
so that capriciousness was revealed
The  fill *****  over flowed.
So  certain the path walked
she  wove aconites into  her  hair  
to unghost the prevailing snowdrops.
The  dogwood a resplendent beacon
vies to complete the cycle .

I  am busy chasing serpentines,
figures of eight loiter
at first hesitant then alliterated
before a snarl shakes
off the dew from a Renaissance figurine.
The opposite of azure skies
will proclaim Da Vinci's motivation
But his David is no hero
he presides as resolute
as ecclesial stone.

Who is special ?
I only see gustier, cobweb and coil.
My slide film captures the hues of Autumn perfectly.
Mordant is an unfeeling word,
Sometimes I think a November song is moving

There's nothing to commend
merely rickety  pathways
spoken up by illusionary politicians
selling their porcupine colours,
although we the People are  tolerant,
there's  still  time to arraign
this impractical impasse
sworn with nylon rope
and hubbub boots.

Oblation, shared light !
suppose work rest and play
tackled a different subject
previously.

Gratis I'll be the  judge  and  jury.
Faye Dunaway does  it  for  me.
Her  modus  operandi is elemental,
an acting force to be reckoned with.
Meanwhile travelling  light  with  my freshly sealed  
Olympus  OM1 MD.
At  the  drop  of  a  hat, loading slow  film
captures  the prevailing waves  of ozone
Mercury in the high  seas and I  heartily
concur  with the portent of
"Call Me a  Liar"
by the Edgar Broughton Band too.
Somethings are  bound  to  offend Aphrodite these days.

The  Love  children gather in  saffron meadows  
needling their aura  for
a  portal  beyond  innocence.
Prophecies  anew
points towards  the  stone  canyons  
where  form undefined, almost contorted
settles  on the former  Moon children,
whose antecedences  coexistence  with their seven moons,
orbited  the limitless  vacuum.
A perchance  to dream
to dare.

Your smile unfurls
steadfast in Northern harmonies,
the merited  determination
patient as a breath.
The Oars swirled past,
their energy awoken
to be wooed by the wistful
under the momentariness Moon.

If she had her wish
she  would mistrust she was alone
and not even lavender on her pillow
could ease her excuses.

A temptress gambled her livelihood
on my inexplicable two left feet
for Roman captivity.
Though I supped Galilean wine,
insubordination was not my first guise.
How I wished I was again an Ebonite
deemed as poor, but spiritually richer

Surrounded by flickering light
it drew an eventide Vision , his brother
James the Just
appeared amongst the wretchedness
who shared the dank breathe with  me.
Though I once supped Judean wine,
insubordination was not my first instinct.
Now I sought the Ebionites
deemed as poor, yet the wine of their tree
seemed to flow through my bidden cell.

I am so weak, who should be blamed?
unless my cry was deserving.
The fairest  wind languishes
and still pick her spoils far deeper,
more injurious than moribund life.
This jaded ideal, sprang from the tyrants pass
this  earnest clanging,  this inarticulation.

All is not the same as I learn,
the hunger to disengage.
To give a  wide  berth
these battling  contrasts.
Only took a  photograph in medium  format
a glimpse a shutter's worth,
to  share in this  ovidian  downturn
and then walk away.

Frowning realities in rogue light
finds  morning gated in fields of confines
I try epiphanies but the Moon
laughs at the opaque senselessness

Dyslexia your Mother's 
 imperfect gene pool
gifted a hard life
unless you're a politician or actor,
dextriety is not always talked about
in polite society.

I used to pass the ammunition and praise the Lord etc.
There's a debate
on the pros and cons
of my newly acquired Hi Power,
Gerald rejects my
high flung stance,
he seeks closure
but Browning rejoices
one step further,
when there's a lull
being respected
by the chasm of a gun,
the morning dew shimmering

"Footnotes" she publicly said the personality shorn,
both from my poem and the club,
the camaraderie I had expected as foregone, now unmerited
and the role trodden, had died.
C'est la guerre.

In the wilderness
I had often thought of  cardboard boxes,
bitter tears may have coated
these my feelings,
but breaking out is such a  forlorn hope.
The  prevailing regimen uncouples my spirit
and no wiser
is a  mending heart  than the crestfallen?

She purchased a Trilby hat in lieu of a Stetson
Her shoulders seemed to stoop
whenever she lit her famous Sobranie.
The rolling countryside always felt like despair
more bramble than Strawberry Fair
She found herself in New Brighton, bracing the sea air
a sought job in a Mobile Fish and Chip Van
was assuredly the Lisa Presley way.
But her heart hankered for Hull, the dare was brazen
to  partake in a  Photography class
to record civil disobedience.
Perhaps a suitable hat
would be a beret
for that inveighed look
our dear Sandra McClain.

I will coil round the Oak and whisper congruity
faster than you can draw breath,
your cochlear will hear
this fulfilment,
long before it is spoken.

I have harnessed a gold star, quite by chance
but its paltry in its achievement,
mea culpa and the expected rest,
please no aspersions
upgrading is now unsourced.

Night Bus have I your absolution ?
effaced by those strewn winds
departing from your axis point
in future, I seek holier than thou detours.

I became aware of my own solitude
a crestfallen fool,
there being no further care shown.
A pie dish that did not even rank a second thought,
cankerous I ought to think.
Maybe if I just snake around, then preen;
somebody get their just desserts.
Forget that, I was gooseberry to my best friend Marilyn
but alas the bloke was insincere,
it was a waste of her time.

EFFECT and cause
recalling that motionless gust,
surface to air fails .
what about you?
dormant  before roused.

what are you conjuring?
a prime so insincere
a load brittled with doubt
that burdens the cast
for eternal avoiding everywhere.

It could not be better than
to discover the music of the early 70s
It was so more than Prog
the singer songwriter hold his sway
under the tree cultivated by Bob
and his one time bandmates the Band,
gave a template back to basics
The Beatles shadow set the standards
in creativity.
before Glam rock lifted the lid,
leading a fallacious path into Punk Rock
and our music savious were truly shot.

Paracetamol  excess
prevaricated whiplash.
Indelible forgetfulness
scrapes my knees

Civil servants
caustic charms.
Forever Old School
Duplex stairways.

Down Tempest Lane
I wish they could turn off the search lights.
Smoke and mirrors interloping
back at the Copters
through the blinds,
blades weeping in symphonic sympathy,
before the Pantyhose and Plunge bras peel off,
some of us can get it on for real.
Others' frigid halves
fake it, like blades of grass,
who is the real snake
the appointed shooter or liar ?

They're playing for high stakes
the debonair with a new coiffure
has spread her moment thin.
The surpassable  cat's eyes junctions
sped her dreams spiralling
But Heather's not for turning
Dappled with a moon lit high

Fire storm gave  you a cleansing  hand
cajoling not unlike a rabbit breaking through fences.
I feel more for foxes
but don't let that guise serve as something else.
Sheild my dignity by the pylons
deeply electric
azure as a dream
the bugles will surely entertain.
can closure be provided?

Justina who knows
where the roses were sent
will you talk purposely
to benchmark your clement start,
not so clear
Tears will oft play their part
beyond the Parterre

There's a cacophony of attributable  timetables
on silver rail roads,
there's a surfeit of wisdom
peering through  a thoughtless tunnel

I could write grandeur about Tansy
Orange, Orange like the curtains of my youth
the back yard where my lips sealed onto the Ice Lolly
that capricious Winter.
Until Stones can provide cover
we are urgently bolted to this floor.

There's a ghost in your cabin.
Messrs Johstone and Blanch
were hang in the snow lands,
but i am not bound
older than birch
heavens no longer favoured,
familiar yet strange
a certain askance necessitates in advance,
for any half truth confessed
beyond words.

Colours buy silence.
I publicly deny Prussian Blue was my first,
the colour of a Paratrooper
but my Lover bequested the time.
I subterfuge the lower end scale of green,
like hopeless moss
coilling my Adversaries dreams
I am sunk with a kiss -
deeper than quagmire
she will obtuse my decree,
home is the tireless winds
further than the cut of her high cheekbones

The bomb blast tore like a new toy.
Science who ranks as distemper
outshone the future.
Scribes of contemporary fore
deliriously notated
the torn ligaments.
Opiates scream dying life
The bomb blast imploded
our unspoken rationale
short of Humanity.

Those cruppled  crisp bags
a quick fix saline rush
theres better in pepper.
There been a lack of colour since 1972
Females were more surreal,
a midnight stint was possible then,
more than their hard pressed  
sisters currently conveying
adroit skills text thumbing
for that unfinished message.
Men no longer compliantly gallant,
merely over worked alabaster relief
with no self belief,
yet trying to project
anything other than diminished.
We have lost our confidence
verge on cloisters,
romance too few
believability never the done deal.

Stay put Owner occupiers  are now envied
corners of smudged wealth,
suburbian renters isotope
brandish new England
more the continental model.
In derelict public houses
inside weightless Box Rooms
every blade of concrete counts.
I shall play in once Lavender fields
and usher questions.
How many times
do we render our knowledge?
ghost town forms are in submission,
again recession chimes
more than a lack of opportunities,
but who are these  newcomers arriving en masse
to once bespoke areas
with money earned
from former unfashionable abodes ?

asunder any new thought
and garish now my name
wax lyrical over all we ever spoke,
flourish with those  wind dancers
vying the whispering ledge
expediting with the pine and turtle dove,
your lodestar was decidedly second class
he could never ascend,
to find himself another Spire.

There is a fissure in time
its a long streak ever widening,
even the candlestick maker senses
the future.
Serena is the odd one out in the village
with an enchanting garden backing on to the forest
but the land grab is on
and the houses are a coming soon.