i

as i recall lily
stare off the ball
beyond the spacey
in the walls-

it was the less well
off who were most generous
who enjoyed their selves and
gave freely..

ii

gave small things
made by themselves
maybe..

some utilitarian
or arty object
with imagination..

iii

like children understand
a gift is in the unknowing
they watch and smile

hardly containing..
some what small and
magical..

i

at the supermarket they treat me
like a thief yet it is they who
steal from off of me..

(and for so little too)
they have cameras and two way mirrors
and private detectives and yet

they are the thieves..
not just the prices but in
other ways too prosaic to mention..

lily wonders and wonders when
the revolution comes and blood runs
in the gutter..will they remember..

ii

and if i complain they say
something but in their
eyes is hate..

it is 14 cents-yes-but i notice
you never give me too much-now,
i am an anarchist communist  trouble maker

they make millions
why be so petty
don´t understand..

i

can you see now
why we hated you
in retrospect..

the greed and corruption..
ah,the 1980´s..
i was young

ii

on the south side of crete
young and innocent
people from all around

the world-
cheap wine and time
it was fun..

hope is snow
on a merciless planet
too..

when guilt is passed
on
each an individual
one..

hope is snow
each a flake of genius
belief so..

the wee bird in my
window
we want to share o..

don´t look surprised
it´s a two way mirror
truth and lies
a perfect reflection eh..

burger and fries-
it´s all there
o my-my..
what a pair..

don´t look surprised
you knew all along
they were lies
some rancid song

full of the old cry
some lost throng
some smiles
like king kong..

don´t look surprised!
the sands slide away
and i am five at the
sea-side..

and still the undertow
threatens..
while o you are young
i am old..

the silly things no longer
bother me-(success)
their superiority is natural
and i enjoy all things
natural..

my cap sits squarely in
my hand-
not for a penny,lily..
the sand slide away..

other people´s faults
appall me-
says lily-

(or is it the word?)
mine however pale
into trivia..

impatience
pathological meaness
cowardice..

in the great scheme of
things-
those tiny sweet cymbals

(going ding...ding..)
eg spelling
another thing..

ii

my old man was a
generous sort
he walked into his local
and bought everyone a drink..

and he gave me what he
promised
i touched his dead hand
it was very cold..

playing music joins
the dots
or fills the void
(an ink blot blown..)

i imagine it the same
mind set as meditation..
unifys the self..
(a smile for a frown..)

something issac said has
slipped my mind
there was a time i could
multi-task but now i
can sing..

music i received upon my
birthday
at the begining of a new
decade i said
now i will play..

who will win?
water pistols and placard
verses greed?

once, a house was a home
it became an investment
(and then a tent..)

lily says, at least, there could
be a commune
(some sort of choice..)

for families-a community
away from the greed
etc..

x
***
hex

y
ye
see

z
zephyr-sweet
zzzz..

x ray specs
i loved-there or
their a girl

bold day glows
high and low
modern life so

sweet phobias
honest and saxaphone
tight by god..

in pain and wild
just fun
i hit him back

with my pet rat..
clever golly..
identity..

polly
thought provoking
i was past thinking

but her
she kept me going
the *****..

sbe charmed like
a great siren-pretty
and innocent..

teenagers
in a bad world
i live off you

or get a job
merciless
or

drink all day
sort of
o

indecision and doubt
dogs of creation
what god felt
keeps us living-

pray we never find out..
love can be dissapointing
a bad card dealt
devastation..

woke
opening eyes
we have epithany

when you left me
i realised but
only too late..

when you left me
i felt a weight lifted
care-free and gay
and yet devastated

studied but free
in the days drifted
by and away
but in the night

ate my heart and strayed..
when you left me..
your eyes and smile
all i could see..

so i would say
you missed that bit
out..

sometimes i just thought it
in the silence
they might

ask what my book was
about-tolstoy´s rendition of
the napolionic wars..

or  portrait of an artist as
a youngman- joyce..
(that is a favourite..)

conflict of different kinds
nobody had an idea
what was going on..

the human condition fraught
with misunderstanding and
omission..

ii

any good?
not much..
so where was i
a litany of pointless

violence..without
an ending
faith to blood
hell and small bird..

a)

solitude
woo
chet baker do
almost blue

alone or alien
too
teacher asked-
what are you

kind of red
that goes
ah..

b)

all they ever
wanted
was your heart

to stick little
pins-in and laugh
now is that too

much to ask
for free
of course..

ii

a)

sunday morning and
they even messed
with the time..

b)

what is wrong with
colour
i wish to be

a sunflower or a
bright vermillion
dragon

with a flickering grey
tongue
with eyes

as dead as the ages
one toe raised
and a tail quivering

like a nightmare
before and always
you..

iii

a)

dark lily?
´tis the season to be
the bloodied rose..!

b)

we never celebrated halloween
it came across the ocean..

the vicar said it was sick
we burned revolutionary catholics-

we built effegies
and begged pennies

the nieghbours said o
eff off now-

but ate our baked potatoes
we had fire works and fire so

rockets and catherine wheels
named after crucified martyrs

roman fountains and jumping jacks
and second degree burns

the sirens lit the rainy night
sparkelers bright wrote

we sang,remember, remember
the fifth of november

gunpowder, treason and plot..
and drank hot

soup and that,pyramids
can´t recall what they did..

b)

at school we learned
of guy fawks
who tried to blow up

the houses of parliment
but was grassed up
he was hung drawn and quartered

and his ashes scattered at
the crossroads
his head upon a spike

on westminster bridge
or something
how times change..

i

i was not rich or famous lily
but i experimented with lsd
not knowing-was i  alcoholic
was i depressed or just curious..

when i say experiment, i took
a tab and wanderered in the forest..
after tapping my foot in the bar
it was loose and cosmic

in the moon light or in danger
but mostly there was another way
something new an alternative
from grey there was colour..

ii

moderation was the key
usually a friday and saturday
and spontaneously..well,i don´t know..
what time is it..

i mention with interest
as  the psychedelic element
makes it´s laborious journey
into the medical  mainstream..

i

usual is my name
i say what is expected
before hands

eyes glaze and i stay
a drone in monotone
little do they know

my origins-just as
small a need to explain
loveless children

nod like plod
in trills of pain
some how far


in a fear
in spiked tears
to carry aload

to shrug and grin
in broken glass
a shruken punch line..

ii

nostalgia is not
a box of matches
lily laughs

more stone and
a moon
the toxic vista..

i

time is a pitza
round and cheesy-
a bubble of sound
(einstein say)

i like it simple-
some pimiento-
just for o
eternal

take away
the tomato..
life is onion
tears or happy..

ii

is time a pitza?
if you consider post-war
britain..

my mother was twenty-one
before she saw an orange
(one of those words

for which  nothing rhymes)
and she was aged before
she saw, mozzarella..


iii

we had fish and chips on a
saturday
dandillion and burdock pop

my father had tripe on a
saturday night
our car was green

i knew the engine..
we listened to the radio
just a minute was on..

i

like you know the way
like it stretches
like time

reds and brown
gold like heaven
-less  a pitza

more religious
experience
utopia..

ii

and then we are obese
so we watch tv
things are tedious..

then,we do stuff we´d
rather not-ah..
dystopia..

what is to be
hope-a stick of celery
and a dip..

i-i

i sometimes wonder what
we would do without conformity
or diversity..

take a fizzy drink
we will call horse´s ****-if
we did n´t all want it

then, it would not be..
same with love and belief..
caw!..lily pauses...

ii

some of you are probably
wondering what is she-
a notated anarchist..

revolutionary poet doing
opening a supermarket?
i need the money..lol..

but the way to change
is from with-in-and everyone
must eat-

iii

i do wonder what tennyson
would have made of it all
our consumer society..

there is something comforting
there is order
what is yours is yours

what is mine is mine
how else can it be
render unto caeser..

iv

in times of yore
nomadic man roamed here and
there..

(now we have asda
progress-can´t stop-)
we fought or effed and

then built a fence and
posession hopped
into our hearts like

an endless summer
and here we are..
of the future..

v

to conform or
grow your hair and
don flairs

a dab of patchouli
behind the ear
a flower in the hair-

am i me lsd
love an alien
have a nice time or

vi

the snack aisle..
the diverse
where i see

vision of the wild
the grass
a dying tree..

vii

at this moment i
stand with scissors
and see your expectant faces-

life is pure profit
or a bargain basement
or short changed

or hauled before the
man to beg and beseech
innocence..

not a word i use lightly
i leave you with this
supermarket..

viii

ginsburg followed walt
around-as he eyed
the pretty boys-

lonely old grubber!
and indeed who has
not fallen head over

trolly wheels-we met by
the meat counter..
romantic tales..

two way mirrors
surveillance and
*****..

look-30 percent off
a machine and well
kept bathrooms..

i

but on the positive
there is belief-
more of interest-

soon to be proved or disproved..
last word..?
o what a world!?

and into the void!
no more pain and no
more me..

ii

no more mornings
and little birds singing
coffee and eggs

no more silence
no wondering what comes
next

no more the tedious washing
up or off to the office
no more music..

iii

or writing..
no more nonsense
indeed-

no more senses
where o where will
they be..

are we afeared
****,we have lived
well..a tree..