i used my music to
quit drinking and depression
when substance abuse is
in your soul..

it takes something to replace
it takes time and understanding
it is a re-assesment and embracing
the reach for perfection..

silence can be ominous
but a marble egg thrown through
the television
speaks volumes

(blasphemy, says lily)
and the colours by golly
they stood dead
only a threat..

in the counsellers house
i was a boy
and remained so
chicken ****..

man can not be isolated
(covid was a timely reminder)
and yet we are to live on
another planet..

there are some who already do-
lily says, look at this-what is that?
a pk 42 with the latest do-da
for killing and maiming..

a bargain..no more re-loading..
lazer sights..so where are we
in the dark-wait,wait..
a marble egg thrown through

the television-o no-
ah, these demons are to be
exorcised-get that rainbow
at the ready so..

poms from the basement:
what happened next?
i had a rather dramatic bowel movement

passing the guard with my
bottle of johnny walker-(black label),
(traded for some fine squidgy, lily..)

i took an old decrepid bus for
the coast to a sweet little bay..
(let me get my paints..)

the palm trees sway..
what is that..?bedouin tents,
and children running with little

billy-goats..the tourists lying
in the sun
****** and covered in flies-

ugh..i thought..yet three weeks
later there lay i
****** and covered in flies..in the sun..

ii

what is that?
it is called the donkey
that kicked itself..

is it relevant?
you see it laughs
as the pains diminish

in the basement
things are getting a
little strange..

i

poems from the basement:
..and who is to say what or whom
is beautiful..***..
well, moving on-

dead beggars and so on
(mostly, my poetry is an exercise
in memory-use it or..
i am not apologising..)

i was the last to see him alive
and we argued
living with the russians
around the fire and songs

from the gulag..he  was
found on the beach
by a friend who had his guitar
stolen by a hunch back dwarf from albania

i warned him-last time i saw him
he was on the bins..trying to get a stake together
(for a new guitar)so he could again play in the street,
he was pretty good..

ii

i was sat outside my tent
(amid the rubble)
when the police come  around

with his photograph-
you know him-he was purple
they were going to slap me

but laughed-i said i was going on
holiday, so might not be around
they wanted me to drop a dime,

as our american cousins say..
(do i look like a rat..)so i walked
for the border line..

iii

t, who knew everything,
said they got him-
he was the educated one-

(surprised me..)
it was a hairy old walk to
the border..

****** is not funny
anything can happen
no good running

casual like
i will be off then
a black sedan

followed
a few yards behind
i was not laughing..