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i do not mock the sun
a war no-one or nothing

i know as much as the
late of residence

on our wall-
upside down
charging at the

near invicible
and surrounded
by monsters..


i have a hat and
the captain´s shoes
but that means nowt

i am in
i am blue
i am out..
if football or music is war
then,what hope is there?

if police are gangster
the ice-cream-man warrior..

a towel on a chair..
a colour..

a book to fire
history or

hey,what is yours

is yours and
what is mine is mine-

trade-love and

consistant like a snake
begging for change
what is in the store-

you want what´s mine
you want it all
it is just your way-

it is inevitable or
what a bore!-

look at the past
look to the future
a dying bird-

it is the truth
or lie
on it´s ****** way-
now, i like to think i am
more sensible
(44 years have not been
in vain)

perhaps,a tad more cynical-
but not many,
stay the same-
though, there are those

who´s ethos and character
from conception to expiration
changed not one iota..
i do envy them..


i thought,if you can´t
change your mind
then,what is it for..

i was in the captain´s shoes
looking in a new portal
through an open door..

today is the solstice
lily,what shall we do?
light a candle or two
join our minds

with the world-
the great festival of light!
together we are might!?
energy enfolds-

are we not one?
little bits
of the pantheistic universe..


shoes were by down fall..
(anecdote alert)
they would n´t let me on

the plane-(are we not
to have a good time?)
thanks to the pilot..

i see myself at king´s cross
in t-shirt and shorts
the captain´s shoes..

minus two-
cold and broke
with-out a smoke..

it is hard to judge your
own creation
ask any mother or god

(i am neither)
and i write and forget
or to forget

that i might write
another-something that
means something

or might change the
cosmos and everything in it
or just go-do-ray-mi..


this is the fun-never knowing
but using my thumb and
middle can create

indifference puzzlement
love and hate
in some ambigousness-

left handed fate..
or a play with words
some loch ness


monster at the gate
when it turns absurd

but keep on going
regardless-what might occur
something of interest

like art or wait..
life is short
and death is long..


try not to say
what is the point
(cause it´s an oblong)

pointless questions
a dirge or some long lost song
that has no effing ending

but goes ding-****
but makes millions

or why bother?
long long the flow
of tiny little things..!


once i dreamed of
fame and fortune..
lily, are you listening?

why,she says marking
her page-what is she reading-
her own´s one-


i wanted money
so i could eff off
the factory

(or office..)
the time piece
like a ***** or rack

-the monster of
silver and black
that nailed

into my head and
so lost but accurate...

(i might rise late
and drink good coffee
yawn and be happy..)


fame seems a bit
of an oversight
who to trust..

when it´s lost
something indefinable
the strangers babble..

i was me
now,what to say
what is it i

thought it was
things change
but to what..


what is she reading
her own poems still
here is another one..

it is called

just to
**** time:
in the mind
if you stick pins in mine-

a second hand..stretching
on a rack never to come
back..elongating and breaking
(thumbs *******)

you see me
in the factory
looking up at three
and again at five..

writing a new day
some holy record
a begining-

picasso said-painting,
is just another way
of keeping a diary..

(what an unusual life
he must have lead-)
lily says:

the eyes have it..
in his glance
there is the unique..


you could say
the same about charlie manson
-but that is madness

which beggers the question
where does genius end
and madness begin?

fancy dinner with them
i would n´t mind
never be the same..


like a sardine in
some night mare
you are human

glancing ´tween
and epiphany

there is a shrieking
and a silence
and that´s the same-

the devil and a saint
regard themselves
what do they see

in each others eyes-
poison and a cup of tea
for starters-

women and women
like them

what has not been done
in thy name-
seven little letters..

a first reaction
that resonates through out

are you insane?
let us not define


one is a product
of it-wine and time
some crucial refrain

(perhaps a chemical
in the brain)
i was loved

i was hated
i was a child prodigal
my mother gave me

to pedophiles for a
bottle of *****
i was wunderkind

i had sight
i thought i did
i went to prison

i went to school..
i had the world
i had the street..


ambitious stuff,
she comments skeptically,
you are a small fish

dreaming you´re human on
a dinner date with two of
the most famous or infamous

names of the 20th century..
i think i overstretched..
just click your flippers

and ask for the cheque
wake up in the shoal
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