is strangely onomatopoetic
for such an abstract concept
(*** says lily)-

am-me
bit-what
ion-i desire..

skin up!
i can´t..
i am too old

i hear voices..
dernier cri!
so it is..

in the garden
in the sun
dreaming..

i

-and i have always shared
some kind of infinity
with that flora-

affinity-from van gogh
to allen ginsbergs
sutra..

there is love and
inspiration
some cure..

some thing magical
and useful
not to mention

the colour-
yellow is god on
high..

ii

perhaps you will
return
as a sunflower?!

ah sunflower! weary of
time..
who countest the steps

of the sun..
blake william
eternal

infinite..
(not unlike the colour
yellow..)

iii

so where are we..
-fame and fortune?
when you were young

you gladly spurned
to be a beautiful sun flower
-loves resurrection..

about the size of it
odd is ambition
even the word..

i

when i was young
i never dreamed of
fame and fortune-

lily squints at the
current bun..
we sit in the garden-

but for some
it is ****** upon them-
do you recall bill and ben?

they were little men
constructed of flower pots and
when the gardener´s back was turned

left their shed and wandering
and wobbling around
in their own eden

causing havoc and having fun!
making little sounds
of wonder and when

(look!ben a wheelbarrow!get in?!
and if the wheel should unhinge
and we go tumblin´..!!(flobalobn)

the gardener would arrive home!
but before the gate latch opened
(and it was a close thing?!)

oh, the tension..(their anonymity
must remain a secret for us
children-)

!little ****-
a sun flower lying in
the dust straightened and in her beautification
gave warning..

like...weeeeeeeeeeeed!!!??
the boys ran and climbed in pots
either side of her..alors!

i wanted to be little **** is
my point-
well you certainly smoke enough..

i

when i read another
i realized how different
we are

lily, i had something
to say but
now i have forgot

well, how did the reading
go?
how was the radio?

what shall we do?
what of fame and fortune?
what about the stars?!


ii

sometimes i wonder
why bother
the difference will

linger-
memories will die or
dither

all endeavour
i am
you are

here and there
and every effing
where..

nothing to be done or
see before
but the stars?

iii

the fading star?
is very very hard
what is now

compared to that
which has been
no blue whats-it..

a dream
a lost one
to boot..

writing of the unknown
is there anything other
a circle, a square, a cone
three two one-

blast off!-here,everything
looks like
a mushroom?!
the light is a dividing

of a million colour
and sounds are bouncing
off clouds
like love from your lips

(go to the bar)
where is my space ship
i left it loud
now it´s gone..
three beers mate..

ii

if you can´t flash-back
on new years day
then..when..

iii

now i have system
you have one
i have one

try not to do anything
daft
you might regret

regret is a very very
sad one
done..

iv

i don´t regret lsd
it was good for me
fun..

i would nt take too
much
how ever

course you only know
later..
like now..

but at least there is
a now
not like before..

poems should conceal
rather than illuminate
it´s not personal
only business-

cause no-one cares!
love or hate
not now but
eternal..obvious..

i

this morning they were here again
mouths open
arguing and fussing
making a kerfuffle

more and more
noses in the air
waiter! the
no-one cares shuffle..

ii

sea-gulls are sometimes referred to
as flying rats-
disingenuous to both species..

they do not practise genocide or if
they spread disease
then so do we..