doctor,it pays not
to be sensitive
(if we wish to live)
for like the flower
our soul requires
water-like
pills nor  babble
may quibble
nor nothing neither
is love unrequited
or guitar-
where there is
melancholia may
occur
madness or else
pay we must
aint life quaint
hear the neighbours
cry and holler..

doctor,as my guitar
will add
melancholia is madness
waiting to occur-
it needs to be snipped
in the bud but
nothing only
may require
a flower might
want water
know what i mean
babbling will not
heal or pills neither
love unrequited
we must pay
or else

the 401 train goes
early and i am old
some same shows
the sun is cold

(but the bird that is
not
sings
hot)

it sings-what
am i doing here!
a different lot
some more

some less
it is thursday
watering flowers
writing and tea..

i am to water the flowers
yet again
it begins to sting some
what
am i doing here
the birds sing..
well,what are you
doing here mf
your fine feather
shine in sun
superior
i hear you now
singing
it is for you
this earth spins
and we are to die..

i watered the flowers
with white and black
ready for grey shower
up-down and back-

two tones that  swept
an untold melancholy
elderly and inept
to be or to be-me

through some thoughts
quite aside any point
made tea-
and rolled a joint..

i watered the flower
to red and greens
a small love ours
grab at and leans

into our heart..
swept the dust
that ends to start
the same-a must

for what is
what will be
washed the dishes
and made tea..

do i set store by
more
or is it a closed
door?

is excess a way
to less..
(the stars blow
to bless-)

wisdom or dying
worth
the coin
for birth..?

the other day
a woman came up
to me
and squeezed my
buttocks-sorry
in the super-
market-she is very
attractive and i
did nt object and
thought no more
about it-
(we poets are a
breed apart-)
then, the next day
upon my descent
into *****, voices
rose from the ether
purporting to be
justice, asking if pro-
ceedings should com
mence..strange eh?

i

it rained through the
night
a miraculous load
i was in the land of
nod-

does nt seem right-
happy!-
the flora and
fauna!life goes on
around the corner..

ii

i dreamed of a lost
sight-
some obscure code
an inscribed lid-

some dark lighted
mystery!
spaketh the distant
star-!life goes on
around the corner..


iii

is white black and black
white
(a predictable mode)
a laughter hid

by tears of old
melancholy
so near and yet so
far!life goes on a-
round the corner..

i)


thunder and washing up
some mundane noises
-god plays with toys

the heat has had enough
of asking why not
it is hot-

the rain falls like a dashed
crystal cup
and has slowed

doors slam and the cat in
the window
washes herself...

ii

-there is more wet
we go
is that it

just like life
o we wait-
expectation be

a cruel mistress!?
the first fleeting
drops

hopes
and
dreams

onto the greasy pave-
ment
of sad senility

wondering
what
happened

left with little
positive way
and cliches..

iii)

though my father
would say to me
you think

life gets better
well it doesn´t..
he was wrong

on three counts-
one,i had no idea
two,i did nt care

and three-
it did..
god bless,dad

it was a realizing
of effort
look at the flowers

growing from
the ****
i tried to suggest

this by patting
his knee
there is rain

and thunders
in the singular
instance of our

existence
pain and washing up
but don´t expect

nothing..
(misquoting an old adage)
only death and taxes

are sure..!

i)

how sensitive
is the with
or without?

(no-one knows..)
to have or not-
to be

tetchy or
easy
to live or

so..

ii)
should we thrive
with less
or

an ultimate
sacrifice
our

hate
consummate
to

ours
(what is)
or

go-
i´m sure
i don´t need all

this-
it just
accumulates..

iii)

or what is
ceasers
render unto..

he
she
still

it keeps the
economy
going-

but creating
the seeds of
it´s own

destruction
(like lead
in the casket)

everything
is some one´s
personnel

own hell
i regard my
closet

with rueful
expression
the cup half full..

they are a third
apex
tremendous
they..

they are a word
a hex
tremulous
they

are cursed
less
but so much

more
than us
trust

to unity
beauty
and loves..

i´m awakening
even now
say today

scarlatti
beauty!
pray..

i woke to
tomorrow
sorrow´s

little joke
ok
pray..

i awake to yesterday
which is say
today

without but with
plenty
pray..

it is a new day
when i am how to say
etc..!

three small letters
free of fetters
free!

(dodging the men
in white!)
here the moment

light-
linear in little
brown whens-

not if or but
when-
certain..

i)


i lie all the time
says syd
do we believe him
soon,he might be-
come confused as to
what the truth re-ally ys
d-or if he gets away
he will some despicable act
perform-(y´know to prove
a point) that might appear another
fiction and fact
rampant twins in an
uncaring universe but
look into the camera innocent..

ii)

all like´s him-!
oh yes syd!?
(he of the missing
spoon)a laugh turn
to a frown used up
quickly as further relation-
names,after a silence that
was a bad business-we regret
that lies all the time around
and gradually  less-
until nothing did it
become-i believed him
but when they found
them..
there a end to a beginning..

today they fired a beam
of something at my
brain
but after some
blankness
and heat
i am ok and set
my familiars
on their trail..

i gave you the color blue,
i asked what is it for?
i said, start anew
ok..

i gave to you,
the color blue,
(i always felt
propriety restricted..)

i gave you the color blue-
over the rainbow
and overrated,
you..

i gave you the color blue,
and i will take it to
my grave,
i give

to you,
my loyalty and
love,
until then accrued..

there is a marble
of yellow and
translucent
aspect and

as far a call
of blow
and transcendent
let

the great croaking
go-let the chalk
circle bleed-
the spin back!

then we shall sow
all the corners
and plain
gathered in
our

weeping pockets
until then, the
bell rung
and in a neat
line..

this morning he had
taken up an opposite
window

cried if i want
a heart unknown
as my own

and  be
some distant joyful
land

called wild
(even a crispy bit?)
he would not be

tempted..not
an oat-
separated seas


by vast civilization
cry uncle
but in the jungle

he steadfastly
remains
lays tomorrow..

i was just saying to
to tommy the kat
over the morning
egg-the mystical bene-
fits of sharing-
two souls
touching and all that-
but-
but for his part
he ate with appetite
(even through
ketchup)
licking with gusto
his extravagant
whiskers
and then like a
sad too much
departed
for the hills
to relish waiting
for the ****..

we have jar and jars,
and have no idea,
what is there?

filling in idle moments,
i stand and stare,
brush sundry tears,

far..
(is n´t the heart
fair metaphor?)

i tap it,
and unscrew,
a corroded lid,

sniff and wonder..
once,so new
and loving-

kind of grey,
mad,
and rancid..

the error is not
the computer
reflecting in spec-
tacles and a half
bitten  but like
the elder in proverb
this topsy turvy
always world..

a fight breaks out
amid the tops
and bases
silver and wood
flashes-
(it has been on the
menu no doubt
for a while-)warming
slowly-
rising and fermented
red like tomato
round and sliced
into cheeses
no one really under
stands
screams like mushrooms
abound
pressure and small
spaced for a word
that rings into hurt
anesthetized and away it
goes..

if life was an etch-a-sketch*
but it is not,
the past may not,
be erased with a flick of

a supple wrist-
no,the thin grey line is
unmistakable and
indelible

on us and we can fiddle
with circles
peer into cracks
smash it against a

post..
(play another game)
to no avail
let others take the
blame..

no,no..
score a goal
look to the moon
no..

(write a poem..etc..)

i remember one time
(when i lay in bed this morning)
when a goat took a shine

(to me)..if a cat or a dog does
the same
predictable our response
mechanism-

the sun was shining and
this one,
detached itself from

it´s companions and stood
masticating
still and staring

(at me)-(i was probably hung-
over and paid it little mind but)
when it came

closer and stopped chewing
the seconds ticked on
white like an angel wing

eyes of amber and green
(i needed a drink!)
the farmer began

to laugh and i tried to shoo
it back but when
it gave scant attention

and continued looking
completely static then
it did not blink

here was something ..
it was rather embarrassing
(now,the farmer was laughing

so hard,he brushed tears
away from his  eyes)
the little apparition

regarded (me) like
saintly pan
and i looked away and

wondered about breakfast
looked back again
then the farmer attempted

with a wave of his calloused
hand
to fain anger

but the kid
stubborn to the last
remained resolute

continued it´s vigilance..
my face quite confused
what ancient forces

at the dawn
the domestication
to this time?

i was jealous of the moon
(for it´s known )
a cereal clown
carry on-

a sugar grin
a floating spoon
milk rounding
a petulant bend-

diane?
a free toy in
a little man
cowering..

i loved worzel gummidge
he was so gentlemanly
he was so patient and
he was so kind

he feared not the crow man
and his stern admonishment
he made up
his own diction

wise in the ways of women
as you wish miss sally
you know best(es)
he would shuffle behind

humble and besotted..
follow her to the end
and though each escapade
ended sadly

he never lost faith from a
sun that always shone
that was his
o there were tears!

and moments of agonising
self cross examination
doubts like burning straw
burned us and ours-

after all,here was a man that
was nothing
and to total inertia
silenced the raven..

silence seems to
be
one plus one
young a
cool fortune..
(we
feel
cheated
naturally..)

a million
quietly
we may see
total that!
which is not
neutered-
equals two..

poetry by
consensus!
may turn to
guess
three
!
a bambino!

four and finally
a hushed house
or the sky
what wants
some distant
cry
you and i..

silence seems to
be
the name of
the game

aujourd´hui-
quieted
we guess
at the omitted..

(business as usual
for me-
the world has
always gathered

around hushed corners..)
through out history
the truth is
withheld

perhaps for our own
good or
general detriment
(or is this paranoia

from another nut bar..?)
hard to say
but to express
the heart

is our meat and
potatoes
(letter from a stone
history is

as history does..)
a party dress
that now has donned
to placate or

con..
don´t worry-
trick or treat!?
silent..

there are two things i must buy-
and they jostle and vie-
one is of necessity
and practicality
that bores
and rankles and nags-
the other is of pleasure
that makes me sigh in
rag-
(for the adoration of
everything!)
one of the finger
one for the toe
one for the birds
one in the soul
one for the future-
a gentle zephyr
that blows
perfumed of
sweetness and love
the other-
a social must
for arrant dust
and comfort
supposedly
but hurt
and tedious in
string
that divide my
heart
one i could
be without
and one i would
die-
wither away
in a myriad
silence
one in black
and white
the other in
an abbot and
costello of colour
one some dreadful
paw
the other such
founding..

two i must buy
two
2
..
.

last year in the uk
a million millionaires
were created
not very poetic but
an interesting statistic
is it true?
i don´t know
but it cast my mind
back
to when i was a curious
child and a book
entitled something like
odd facts and did you know
that it would take
so many weeks to
count a million
and then i thought of
the moon and how far away
and then if one stacked a million coins
the base would melt
and then i thought in a
bit of a mood swing but quite
characteristic
i wonder how many suicides
there were..

what to do
little three o
scare crow
slave blow agito
or tranquillo
who knows
oppress
press o
more or
less
what is the difference
why ask
you want honey
with that
pharaoh
overly sweet so
die or do
low or high
bitter as bone
abode
a bomb
set to ten
ready to go
together
we go..

i am bored!
i am bored
as a ghost

dis-
disinterest
as burnt

toast-
tedium
dreary?!

(dum-di-dum..)
as a wet sunday
afternoon

in Dumfries*
ah,me
melancholy-

like contemporary
as poetry
as watching

the grass grow
as ancient
as bone

me,
i am normal
i ´ll not
die
to save
the world?!

(or for the love
of a space-girl)neither,
i would rather
eat
than a compliment-

rather than my
toe-
nails pulled
i would sign
on

the dotted line...(that says ouch..!)
my sworn testament,
will verify,
that black is
white,

and white is
black..
front back
normal
like you

freedom of expression
is all well and
dandy
but when

one´s ******
in a vice
mice-elephants
and vice
lies-

-versa
that´s sure
quite normal
i´m sure
(even the threat
suffice-)

lies are normally
just  augmented
truth (or bits left
out..)-
truth is best!

and the best truth
is thank goodness
it is not me..!
as we march off
to war..