a little john cooper
clarke is a universal cure
i fine-a pana or para-******
or something..

melodic and a dialect
that could sweep up the
sawdust..i did nt know him
but on kings cross station

one time..he wandered past..
he looked like he does!
or another dissatisfied earthling
waiting for a space craft..

warily he eyed the board
a guardian tucked under a pencil
like arm,had ariel danced from
his head none would have been

surprised..i wondered who that
was..another wandering manc
far and far from home
shaded from us and the sun..

i don´t know what to say
to you-(a suitable epitaph)
belief is poetry

(cry or laugh..)write yourself
or leaves of grass!
to infinity and beyond!

thatcher was a green grocers daughter
she married a millionaire
(but i don´t hold that against her..)

she had twins while studying law or
something..she was the minister for education
we called her thatcher the milk snatcher..

as juniors we were given a free quarter
every morning-a glass bottle with silver
top..that sometimes in the winter
the birds pilfered-we had a straw..

i recall that contented hush and the poorer
kids that had had no breakfast had two or
sometimes more-(i never made milk monitor..)
but they had to balance the books or

the chieftan tank called for..
why, i would wonder would we soldier
for such a mean spirited pile of *****
and that god forsaken life..?

i

crow in his nest
reads-(but does she
love me..?)

he plucks a feather
from his heart
and writes another:

ii

dear lily
my heart burns
like sun-set clouds

acrobatic turns
o wild and free!
the cool breeze..

iii

unrequitted
love
(cool as worms!?)

the whole sky
ours!?
say you love me..

iv

now i must fly
your turn-
counting the hours

why
scented fern
your underwaer..

they will dine upon your heart
amid silence and ****** complaint
they ask and you have forgot
what your looking at..

you will be the boot..
a hole where once layed the part
a sole or soul or just nowt
now a toy soon forgot

you are pathetic and you will agree-tut-
filling your glass from an empty bottle but-
but them no buts..
you look like jabba the hut..

and you feel like it, yes,
never love a stranger your mother
might have said and now they are
even prettier..