i

if mental illness
become glamorous
(when glamour
is fear)
could see here
or little green
men peering in
our collective *
in the mirror or
on a flying star..


or there
which statistically
certainly are
in doubtful reflection
alien sadness
fat or thin
their self
nothings to
**** probings
regardless colour
!

how very our existence
do differentiate
but how similar
we would have it..

how universally random
and exciting
of infinite possibilities
and yet

the same old ****..
so  say yea
to poetry
and yea to creation

in general
and nay to boredom
and pht to death
different

in everything
wit
or beauty
or love..

monday is a day
in any old way
(not,say a
fray..)
it holds i
like a new baby
like a found stray
(no time to be
like a honey bee)
placates me
like the *** brays
butter on maize
utter a sigh
be blithe!
monday morn

ing
ring
swing
sing
thing
ping..!

i

now,whose
the ******
lily,this
confrontation
is such a bore..
there is no wine
as sweet as thirst
( to paraphrase
edna st.vincent millay)
little mr. thought for
the day-
a potato is a potato..

ii

well that was lunch
inspiration is rather
dry to some petulant
spring such is day three
of the fiesta..

iii

but here anyway..

iv

i would rather dig my own
grave with a numbered spoon
then go to a bbq..

v

sooner play the blues
than go on a cruise

vi

better loose both knees
then visit disney..

vii

lily leave me
stop this carousing
the love tree
has become winter then

our spring lost and gone
when blossom hung
sweet and glittering
in the free

summer found us
in sundry doldrums
pitched again to
the  roots of done..

autumn now the golden
days lay like a stone
where we sought ourselves
anew..

toward the equinox of our
o and to no where
particular but love  and now
we me yo..

iv


one thing they get you
to dislike
well this is it
take a hike..

well done to
maximus
well done
to me

well done
to my children
one  fifty
all my loving..

iii


is he making a more serious
point though
is his destruction
a said..

imagine
this will be always
in my head
how did it work..

should we laugh
or do we cry
how original
and old..

ii


is ´ nt banksy a riot
shredding his art
after a million
i would buy him

a pint..
make´ s me proud
to be from england
lol..

i

here we are then
same old ancient desire
same old scream
we chide dull fire

of unending unrelenting
unforgiven..
gosh
will it never end..

our forelocks annointed
by a new ghost
something anew
we and i mean dead

toast look and pray
but it´s the same old
show a new day
we sit mouth open..

later,i will go to
the supermarker
after,
sit in the park..

then,climb so
many steps
and what will
be will be..

in the supermarket
there is regiment
a suckling
reassuring
long q
little q
mirrors
cameras
there is a soul engulfing
constant..
in a world that might end
in four minutes
there is spaced
eternal thought
sensor like heaven..
a pastry counter!
cool songs of
history
whistle and sing
i would like to lead
a caveman by the hand
you see what we have
become..
ug..?

division is the topic
under discussion
one can never
(sic)

be greedy enough
discuss..
(babylon by bus*)
our heart a daisy

one to marvel at
on a busy highway
grown fat and pretty
through the tarmac..

nourished be our root
blue and wise the
firmament
the passing admire

our brief and filled
life of universal love
soon enough time up..!?
sway and dance..!


a great album by bob marley

i

today we dress as cowboys
and the ladies look charming
but still is there justice
you are asking..

well,arn´t you the party poopers
up there is the moon
blow it  a kiss
and down babylon..!

ii

do i sneak around and steal
from you
no..

do i sneak around and spy
on you
no

so what do i want..
you ask of me
i don´t know..


iii

well lily i think
that is just you
being paranoid
hell is this that
kind of world..
you scary cat
steal from you
spy on you
a kafka void
we must look
to what we
know as true..

iv

well i am not
here to hold
your
******* hand
i thought you

were..
no, this is war-
long periods
of boredom

interspersed
with inexplicable
fear and
emotion turned  

on a sixpence..
we can´ t be
together and
we can´ t be alone..

that´ s true
so,we drink
smoke marijuana
and have ***..

isn´t war hell..?

i


it´ s around this here
mundane hour
or that there
where i get near

some right now then
higher or low
the mo so
captured when

it nails a tear
to the great cross
some heart
and i know

nothing
that i know
which lo
is comforting

that is to say that
in every and any
i am wrong
certainly if you

listen to my wife..parenthesis
never the less
through comes a truth
what ever it may be..

how do i know
because i have known
thus lost knowing
recalled no

felt
instinct
we were once
so
but no longer..

ii


i recall another
scared the life
out of me..parenthesis
though benign..

he said without
saying i would never
meet another like
him..

he proved a quintissential
cunning man
his glance left
something..

some understanding
some aspiration
a desire for learning
and so on..

though i think his
ways wordless
but natures´
he instilled faith..

only six minutes can pass and
i have only one finger left
the trick being
i a human being
to look at
this planet through relatively
alien glance
how
well like if you never were here
which soon enough will be there
the case or the whole or just plain
good old nothing bless
that being the case what
bizarre dream
lead us on
to be here and now
golly,of all the moments in space
for me to see
and you to do
all in this nano second..
two minutes
two minituos
two what to do..
sail off for the horizon
head held high
your mit in mine
it even be fine.,.
one minute
runs down
just like the first
and the last..

if you could see you(me)
i´d see nothing new
mayhap a crack or two
with a **** come through..
that would be all..
the distant call
of an owl..
a thin haul..
wait i can!
a bird with
in sight
of land..
the forest
of love!
song as sweet
from pan..

******
it is
even a fish

so a spider
too a fly
and

stuff
smaller
than that..

deliberate taking
of
existance

soon
esculate
to the wife

or husband
******
hand

no good
crying
sorry

or god
or contrition
still be

i have a little man
he collects money
in a slot at the back
of his cranium..

made of caste iron
his smile red says
with sad blue eyes
put a penny in

and one day a fortune
by my murdering
wiles
will be yours..

meanwhile i will
prop up this dusty
old mirror
with cloven hoofs

dig land fill
and gleefully
stare as everything
else falls away..

lily is bored
she is best ignored
she wants to be adored

and so she will by sun
that adorns her skin
she will wax and in

diamond and pearl
crazy colourings
grow

suddenly say
spread
oil on herself..

indicates
her impossible
pretty

(i will grumble
for
i am working..)

shoulder
and roll a stick
of marijuana

and sundry other
stuff
and that far from

enough and now
the sun has
gone..

behind a cloud
getting loud
fire is out..

lily wears a pout
where has the sun
where is her this

and where is that..
what is she reading
memoirs of a foxhunting man
(siegfried sassoon)

and goodbye to all that
by
robert graves

two great poets from the
first world war
she acclaims..

and carol ann duffy
she is flitting like
a happy

cabbage white
tween the three
waiting for

the light
on the one hand
the death of civilization

and carol´ s fun and dark
determination
between courage and courage

i cream her smooth opal covering
and push a cold mohitjo in her grip
she wonders how life changes

she lights up and picks at the ways
that divide and separate us
just let it rip she sighs..

what choice do we have anyhows
**** hit the fan
what to do..

i

coming splintered across the
crossing they compared
telephones and i recalled
how we exchanged
our playing cards..

some were stills from the
b movies popular in the
day others potrayed the
sadistic and others were
popular football players..

i suspect not much has
changed
they made it safetly
across and
a pigeon shat quite near..

ii

i hope i will
die as quietly
as a mouse

all in my still
beady
eyes

my love til
the last thump
of my little

heart and
kind time
be

to sweet whim
wild and loving
as been

and to come
see
and still seeing..

sometimes i like to write
in a hurried spontaneous
fashion without punctuation
or second thought which is fine
as as one grows longer in the olden
wolf tooth spontaneous acts becoming
rather short and might limit themselves in
the ******* supermarkets or something
but these poems if indeed that is what then
might be called last for quite a short time
this illuminates certain aspects and darkens
the other things sometimes i am amazed when
they make any sense at all but to be always considering
pontificating overthinking in every ******* excuse my
french is worse then dying and as the people on the cathode
ray say or the man in his office says just doing it oh lord so
let the first things be first of course this may end in prison
or hospital or the like but there are those and i salute and drink
the finest red to their brave and adventures health warning..music
break..

five minute poem
it takes six to die
so this should be a cinch
already one has gone
so that is what we say
hold on
that is another
and **** happens
a third
i am my own winch
who else
who is else
yes, good question
when i am you
and the other
u my bro or sis
then,perhaps
light will
walk this blighted land
that may occur yet
anyway time presses which
is beyond words
which are rather a waste when you
think about it when
love stares us in the eye like some black
bird with it´s cheeky tail held high
anyway times up..

now
some of the world´ s
most
glamorous
women
have cried
for my beauty
long gone
days
when i wept
before
the mirror
and fandango-ed
to danny kayes'
ugly duckling
how strange
life is..
i still see
mr potato head
on a bad hair day
when gazing long
by the lake side
and  hurt if
people look hard..
some pain goes deep
and lasts a life time..?

i


all in all
when it comes
down
at the end of
two parts
a smile
or a frown
a brick wall
a white line
ends own
a choice
a refusal
a moments
consideration
smell
silence
the birds
all taken wide
and around
up down
soft stones
i know you
no sound now
have a break
take her nice
and easy
somehow begin
do not sigh..

ii

you take a deep
i want to high
do you recall
o the rail bread
the sanctum
the sunshine
the water crashing
and that small calm
said why
what did you do
no..
yes
i will not say
you will
no i will not
why should i
you say
no you
it is taboo
you
no,you
god
the devil
me
we
they
ah yes they
say
what do they
say
blaspheme
pray
do
don´ t
it
at
that
what
you know
ah,yes
infer
no,call it
me
yes
not they
no
you
no
where is the fun
gone
where
don´ t say
conspiracy
oh ****
here we go
pirates
china plates
when did the rot set
in..
kite
tasty
with a key
and zap
i might have been
happier before the
four stroke
i´ m not sure
it is hard to be
certain
but still we are just
a blooming accumilation
of what has been
and some of that
is not too pretty
if you know what
we mean
but of course
who does
words
are now
and will be
for ever
superfluous
silence wins
that is a common
platitude
lewd
****
yes
can be interpreted
as no
best say perhaps
i think that
is lunch..

i

there is still a bottle
of cola
in the freezer..

ii

as i have grown older
i have loved more
which must denote
success
although i read in
luke rhinehart´ s the
dice man that this
might indicate
regression..
for those unaware
of this classic
a bored psychiatrist
throws a die and each
number has a different
directive..
he is a ******
he is christ
he suggests
that the idea of self
based on consistancy
a fallacy..happiness
is a fundamental
of change..

iii

if one is a tortoise
reluctant to emerge
one´ s bleary eyes
from one´ s shell
a world spent within..
always asking why..
worrying about what´ s
been..or what´ s to come..
a crepuscular hell..!
there is no i
only a difference..
so flap one´ s little
flippers and make
a change..!!

i

just a liitle reminder
there is a bottle of cola
in the freezer..

ii

i have a translucent
ellipitical ball
small
it is what i want..

(excuse my oxymoron
y´ all..)
your heart is not
round..lol..

neither is it small
and i do not stick
pins into it
that would be futile

you do that..
though it is wax
and it is sweet
and knowing
but unknown..

i carress it gently
and keep it safe
sometimes happy
sometimes a stone..

at night before sleep
i tenderely give a kiss
and tap again my teeth
say your name

and fall to dreams
encapsulated
warm and smooth
love´ s silken ways..

to smooth oblivion
when held by your
hand in mine
we walk alone..

i am rather torn
when it comes to
suicide
on the one hand
it is one´s own
life
but on the other
this destruction
may spiral wide
reverberate
through time
gathering power
depositing
sadness
and despair
til the whole
world falls
asunder
beseeching
and to the
pretty
blue
i
we
you
they
cry why..!!

*a mention of suicide by
twigzy..

thoughts ranged far and far
what comes into one´ s head
salt to a message from god
a happy and a sad star..

i was once myself at war
with myself but i read
brothers,it was a heavy load
four litres of red was par..

i became an actor
i examined the thread
in the wings cold dread
sisters,there..

lines i could not remember
and some that i did
i flipped my lid
what why and where..

and the repetion over
and over my brain bled
i said i said
that or thought more..

so i played my guitar
and never repeated
that was neat
that was linear

hour after hour
so i was a hermit
candle lit
dry core..oh yeah..

i am lucky
i can see
or i can´ t..

is it new
like jamais vu
or deja vu..

old and beauty
the sun and moon
my room..

innocence and wisdom
love of you
true..

i am grand
i kiss the land
adoration..

i see my door
i can´ t see my door
for

i am old
i am new
golly, the rain

comes down
from my heart
to the ground..

my father was the real poet of
our family he would say of
such things barely on edge of
our collective conscience

that made poor sense but nearly
were we lynched at the weekly
poker school..as they woke dreamily
and he gathered his chips..

until in the end they gagged him
not literally but he decided to writing
it all down on some half baked whim
and we lost heavily..

i see him lying and giving up soon
going down the pub instead..
he expected it to pour out as it did
but his was just an excess of charm..

he was a very social person
inspired by an audience
not one for a blank screen
or some torn paper..

here a sleight prayer to the gods of precipitation
for the garrulous little swallows in the agave
decorating like trifling bits of finery
whilst the sky waves and waves come crashing..

thanks be to the gun metal of gray
a cheery wave to the non existant horizon
hooray,for the cooled southerly breezes
while day cries our scorched and when

yesterday but the day before and now now..
the collection of sighed the changes so
say cool and the sweet perfumes..
the relieving rain rains down..

exclamation

should we make a fuss
or stay hushed..

when brought
warm beer
read our paper..

should a hair in our soup
knock us through a loop
or just sit
and wonder..

if the main dish is poor
should we consider football
pick up our phones and tweet
something
or other..

if the sweet is reminiscent of
school
do we stare down the street
and recall
some long
ago lover..

if death arrives like
a bored waiter
over charging and
scratching..
i won´ t bother..
make a fuss about
some dust..

for peter
we´ ll say *******
we were here
we lived
and enjoyed..

two minute poem

no eggs darling
no nothing
no space
no cake

no nothing
said that
no no
ah..just you
and nonoe
but me..

om..
one more
am..
she
we
gone
bye!

threeminute poem
none of my doing
no sir,just a gadding around
not even

what me
no sir
serious now
why
ah why not
gaolor two to die

in this monsterous
circumstance
smile
dyiing
clap hands noow!

one more minute
love is sweet innit
good bye
be never to see
her eyes of gray..
so..

well that was lunch which
was preoccupied with such
thoughts of the typical poet
eg why does the world want
to cheat me..

what is the point and what
is for tea..my lover´ s eyes are
burnished fields´  of wheat
i thought of love
and lily..

a small blue bowl of vague
reminded of a broken heart
and since stopping smoking
marijuana has my art
suffered unnecessarily..

or is it better some clue
must tell the difference between
the placid and uncontolable rage
the compatability of lasagne and rice
the oxymoron..

the pollution of serviettes..
with our destructive urges
laced with inexplicable
flat cola and
creation..

not unlike hunting for
searching salt to will
made in our own likeness
cold soup to chips
to explain..

what is this thing called man
chapatti and jam..
we have to have to tell
we have to work
and then stack
to clear them..

begin again
the thoughts
of a typical
poet and soooo
end..

i

i thought as admiring a star
it´ s it´ s proximity or colour
a quiet orange nectar
i don´t recall..

but near went through my
mind seemed true
amusing yet profound
kind of far

like trying to recall a dream
or a woman
the more i tried
the further it was..

ii

i thought as admiring
a star in supplication
touched my heart in return
for this life won..

imagine the vista on
and in the silent burn
the great sun ascending
from a night bleeding..

the same nothing
and in the end
so it was
..

i

when my love away
darken the  day

while her gone
bland the sun

in her absence
a total eclipse

if she leave
light´ s weave

a black sign
a white cry

pitch mine
tone alone..

ii

but when she come home
a bright aire or song

play to my mind
in a clear stream

of sweet blind
ing

a fine wine
of dandilion

rainbow
seen colour

that dissipate cloud..
and lo the sun!

i

gosh,look at the time
half past two
must dash
bird lime..
moon cane
how are you
purr
i´ m fine..
i´ m fine too
even so
sun frazzle
brain..
yes,
you love
you love
**..
then
gone
do
stone..
more paper
how life
has
changed..
how we
manage
bird lime..
blind
we are
the stars
dazzle
moon cane..
only yesterday
we did our sums
and today
we are the sum..
birdy
doest thou
dwell
on tomorrow..
moony
the sun
will
shine..
in our mind
will be
see
will..
hope
and
glory
scissors..
and joining
a great
hand
in your´ n..
god
bless
it takes
genius..
never taken
the eye
off
the ball..
for every
ladder
a fallen
snake..
things have
a way
of even
and out..
can i say a
colour
here
gray..
or rather
grey
is very pretty
bird lime..
moon cane
is that the
time..
gone three..
we never really
untitled
no
no named..
lol
cared
did nt worry
oh no..
stoics
burning flames
kind
and unawares..
or war
one penny
four blackjacks
and a blooming
sweet twilight
to boot
things were
different..
moon cane
seems so long
and yet
very brief..
know what you
mean
every word
a lost diamond..
a dew drop
in the early
morning
sunshine..
long as you
have
your health
blinding wisdom..
moon cane
bird lime
i mind my own..
do you..
and what do you
do all day long
flip,look at the time
drink wine..
lol
those were the days
think
says or said..
argued with everybody
easy a bell tolls
off stage
my life has been..
yes,a curious affair
there were so many
occassions
so many closed
cages
moon cane
and do you know
what saved us
apart from a
******* clad
don´ t
sixth sense..
go..
bird lime
stuck
along
then..
silence
is the
most
listen..

ii

we held our tongues
he was a screaming hushed
silent jungle
quieted throne
moon cane
all alone
never mind
the time
a diving hippo
crocs slip in
and birds
flap away
ever silently
baby
beware...
here is a
cross
some so
there lurks
light like air
then sweet cruelty
you hear that
less that nothing
lurking traps
the day quiet
why even the trees
beseech in prayer
still rapt
listen a sigh
the fear is held
like the rose
tween rot
in the silent
in the variance
move real slow now
and listen
we know
nothings glisten
do this waiting
what is to wait..

i

i can put my nose in the air too
saying and who are you
and what do you do..
(ah, your way is true..)

ii

but i think i loose
pointless-elitism
a silly noose..

iii

in the end
a stuffed goose

iv

friend
my choice

v

your choice..

i thought i might
ramble now
and be found miles
from home

in just my pipe
and slippers
and smile,
whisper-

my heart
young like
a spring morn
ah,born again..

poetry is life
life is poetry
poetry life is

that right
right that

be..
.

;

****,it is hot
is it hot ****,
hot ****,is it
it is hot ****..

not a question
a not question
question not a

doubt mind
mind doubt

out!
.

;

oh man it´s a hot one
one man it´s a hot oh
hot man one it´s oh a
man oh one a hot it´s
a hot one it´s oh man
it´s man a one oh hot..

yes,i be all  alone
all alone i be yes,
alone yes,i be all
be all alone yes,i
i yes,all alone be..

is it a crime?
a crime it is?
crime is it a?
it is a crime..

that all depends
all that depends
depends all that..

who you
you who

are
.

;

today is to hot too
is too to hot today
to hot is too today
is today too hot to
too is hot today is..

do very much but
do very but much
much but very do
much very do but..

get a beer
a beer get
beer a get

and chill
chill and

well..
.

;

some of our teachers were awful nice
and the harbour of sweet peccadillos
(having to deal with us every day
would make anyone crazy..)

and i suppose they took refuge in
their insect collecting in abyssinia..
(pasttimes tinged in the exotic
and a nod to the sadistic..)

but  love of keats and wordsworth (etc)...
miraculously remained undiminished..
(while demonstrating lethal aims and
a plethora of different pain..

one used the leg of a chair and another
gave his weaponry girl´ s names..
i guess they were just as bored as we were
how the season´ s waxed and wained..)

they still retained their soulful natures
a wonder of testament to the great genius
of elliot yeats and so forth..!
their fundamental faith undimmed...

i

what are you up to speakman
or what are you speakman
as my teachers might say..
then

the wart on their nose
that will never go away
oh i know you hypocrits
we look the other way..

pacif
agressive
as the happy catkin
sway
the lith blossom
in the breeze..

ii


i would humbly
ask a favour
if you would be
kind to my mother
i will be eternally
thankful..

i


zowie doodles
maisie may
mali the bad
lily lu lu
and tommy tune..

ii

i recall thursday
in cold blowy bushes
hopeless
and late victorian

chairs..

a rather shoddy future
which got worse
helpless
victorian morals

and worse

and what then
a succession of
error
a word a curse!
woe to us!

silver platters..

but upon
my hairy shoulder
youth laughed
but a aways
harsh

wastrels!

and you think
and you think
timeless ways
and suddenly
i was 30..

jesus..

an elephant in
glass
unemployable ant
boats and stoats
and factory
malaise..

wish..

work in progress..
the seconds digress
like love and stars
not even a war

go fish!

a dance with a
great magical
door
called wishes..

and then 40..!

son,beware the
cat lady
beware
the graceful

smiles..and
whipped 20
by
or be

since..

and strange things
like comets
come and go
by

which

if character been
fate
is
typical..

of me..

as forecast by
teachers and towns
but unknown
music

grin down..

and by golly
close shaves
around corners
stuff and poetry..

some round..

lithe plain
and of course
why
not made a million

yet

but all
is
still
a sweet card..

a great winding
returning
empty while
of some

shiny circle..

we can sell the pots and pans
and we can sell the green bean
always the man must eating..
but the soul like a desert land

need love like the flower rain..

man can make the  telephone
and yet still remain all alone
we are always communicating..
cause the heart like a sad refrain

needs to hold a loving hand..

we are  clever all said and done
silence will testament lone moon
the light of a thousand suns in
the ending:

the last touch of woman and man..

i


what a day ah!
the sun making hay-
a sweet little fray!

what a night to come-
old and young!
such fun..!

our hearts are light
and swallow-like
our first bike!

your nice
sometimes!
the prettiest ways..

ii


a countenance
of timeless beauty-
an endless line..

a voice as
stuck with gold
and honey..

great antiquity
i drowse
like the interim

and wait the silent
laws
that are mine alone..

beyond the line
that circles
and looks on..

after life
my spirit will
seek and roam..

until
we
find..

when i talk about my life
there is the grandiose and pathos
there is the depths of song
the tragedy of the lost word..

i say i can see the way in silence
when there is too much if..
but other than that gain is loss
one consider´s just might be..

(this i think is understood by
of all the sparrows
but i will not stand for their nonsense
i tell them naughty ones-)

it is my life..and for me to say
no better or worse than anybodys´
when i remember it is my heart-
how the f do you know how i felt..

the peaceful revolution begins with ones-self
so they say
what do you think that means lily..
well, maybe,since most revolutions are
betrayed-
be true to oneself..

like when you do something with pride and love
cooking or sitting on the bus..
and then things for us
will go dot to dot
like a tiny wove

in a great cosmic carpet
that is our collective conscience..
gosh, it´s hot
is there ice..