again all my ruddy heart gone
lily you are my lovely poem
with the sick seconds..
put on your cowboy boots..

my heart is some slick stone
a derailed why and when
miaow like a leopard
our love can´t refute..


our love love til all done
til end of everything...
give me cute-
put on your cowboy boots..

the bay leaf of my heart is yours
to make the pasta there
underneath burnt onions
care..

lay your china bare!
sit back and straight..
give of your love
tomato to the tooth..!

forget..
forget
the knife
and a la carte..

not to mention jack white
and ralph fiennes
who climbed the 76 steps
and stood below my window parapet-

paying homage to genius..
i return it to them 10 fold!
in a sound of such silence
that has mayhap blown their

socks off..

yeah..so no one has a good word to say
or no-one has any word to say
well,the past over of today
come good when in our graves..

when madonna calls me one of
todays most talented poets
or paul mccartney says
one of the best guitarists..

i shall have to be kicking up
the daisy(s)
ah..poor me..
-to die is sometimes the only way..

why do we do ourselves apart
pick at every fallen thread
why do we live every lost moment..
i dunno, listen to brent..

tick goes the clock and
tick go our hearts..
why do we live in the past..
listen to brent..

why won´t the future start
what is awry here and now
why must we strive backward..
i dunno..

is nt it all just a last laugh
i said to brent,believe me
we´ll be dead before you
know..

brent said,
yeah,what can you do..
i said..
what can you do..

i have written over 2000
poems that mean nothing-
just so much sand
in the *** hole of existing..

what about excitement..
-a ball passing between two
sticks..
no none..

i lurk around supermarkets..
i read old books..
i get ****** and listen to old dub
tracks..(at the week-end)

still, how beautiful the day long
and majestic!
how sweet the little song birds
entreaty-

hear me
!
see the brightest way!
kiss this wild dome!
(or write a poem...)

my grandfather
a liverpudlian
bus driver sat of an
ev´en in the kitchen and
vehemently demanded
right of way
before god and man..

(or so it is recorded..)

i recall him being smaller-
a darkness before a mirror
putting lard on his hair-
a prerequisite to exhausted sleep
in his favorite armchair..
we,his family would gather..

(round..)

grandfather duly revisited his day
he bucked and contorted..
a scissored hand a pedestrian..
his slippered feet sort break and clutch
but performed a little known dance instead..
with an all change he´d swung into position:
babe in arms
halfpastthree
sidewinder..
onetime he slept with his knees on the floor
and his head under the cover..
auntie mable was nearly ill with suppressed laughter..

children,can of course be fearful moralists...
tired of the humiliation i released a guffaw..
that was the kind of little boy i was..
priggish but thought an idiot..
the adults groaned..
grandfather opened a beautiful pale blue eye..

later,in the garden
in the day light
he said he and i could
be great friends...

i

lily, what  you do today?
she shrugs non committed-ly
she likes to keep it ray and vague
-try and keep awake..

she stretches and the birds play..
the white dawn approaches..
in the quiet her eyes
roar like a lion on african plain..

since becoming a famous poet-
she adds,i no longer know it-
i have found  instinct
floundering in sea ****..

intuition licked and the
cave blocked
by a great diamond
of black..
a gum shoe without a lead..

hay without a seed
planet without slack..
my brain locked
to the lamppost-
my soul on the rack..!

inspiration an advance check..
an endless parade of drugs
and casual ***..
-but no love..no love..at all..

ii

under the bright light
great sigh of loneliness
hurt like a lost ball
on great oceans..

among a sink of spite
where more is less
a bucket of hurt
breath and that is all

i bail..

time runs low..
like a distant petrol station
under the free-wheeling sun-
i am getting old and slow..

but in the filling station i know:
there play my favorite songs
there is free air..sss..
there are free m and m´s..

love grows..!
(i have to buy sun glasses..)
i look in the mirror..
fare thee well care..

fare thee well tribulation!
ah,look at all the crisps..
we must leave
we must go..

if we have a collection for the musician
every one to benefit give a little
perhaps some more from businessmen
there will be an interest every day..

in the air and around the water
through the green and in the blue
toward the later morning and
around about evening too!

many people might come too
spending money and say
who is that country boy?
classical and improvised blues..

why not..every body has a right to
make a living for themselves
and really if there is anything
that might save this civilization

it might be generosity..

i

this reminds me of my first walkman
i paid one hundred pounds for that one
back in ´81..

after three month of a shared house
from hell..
i was so ill
with every scab and car
problems..

we liked st paulis..!
we sat in the rain..
p..would say
do you know what i say
when people ask me
what i do for a living
silence..
i say i go on picnics..
what our german hosts
thought..
they were drunk
we were ******..
b considered cricket
we sat in car
a court case on wheels..
i could not do the sums..
it was the most lethal
of times..too many..
times only in bad dreams
now..i had these red lines
that were agony..septic wise..
so i bought my new walkman..

ii

it meant more than any
other singular purchase
before or since..

iii

hear that lily..
kind of verse..
remember things
ordinary things..
a vauxhal estate
rained mud
schnapps and grass..
a picnic..arguemant
argued morning to night
sat on the porch
and argued there
went to the bar..
argued there..
went home..
...

iv

when it rained
i liked the still
we would stop arguing

and listen to the first drops..
here was some magic!
lets have a sandwich and
forget boys..

v

r broke through my door
like an avenging angel
armed with trident
i shat..

vi

b considered cricket
i listened to my walkman
s was homesick
chicken and chips..

impis..
we always
got
good grass..

i


roger the goalkeeper
me and jennifer
strange triangle
we were..

we would get her stripped
to the vest..
and he run off and
play football..

******* had a dimple..
but i never gave her
a packet of crisps ..
my heart in bits..

ii

lily just dashed in
spread her sweet loving
made some delicate sign
drowned and was reborn
screamed the place down..
she says she forgot the thing
what was it ah..the wine..

i


i remember j.
beat me about the head
with crime and punishment..
lovely smile and strong legs..

y?
o..i was stuck to the ground
an abandoned tent
my brain rusty pegs..

get up..
it was the edition with
john hurt on the cover..
national treasure..

why must you get so
****** up..
i liked it..
i liked her..

i liked dostoyevski..!

ii

when i stopped drinking
the hardest thing was the boredom
if the mental addiction
the numb brain
feeling insane

was not suffice..

i started painting
i know..i could nt face aa
i watched trains
and sat by the canals
chanting and praying..

and considered snippets..

iii

but the painting brought
me out of stupor..
i loved my wood burner..
a little bit..
when i felt buried

i played my guitar..
i met claudia
her eyes were like
so shot with gold..
we smoked..

we ******..
near on killed me
in that old van..
alone..
i drank..


iv

the winters lasted too
long
they skated up
and down
i visited f
with all her
animals..

on the t
in her barge
of green and gold..
she was always kind..
my god it was cold..
but her warm heart..
we drank tea..

v

so i managed to stop
for a whole year..

and then started up again..
why,i can´t say..

but stopped entirely
on feb. 12
1994..

i recall the day exactly
i would find myself
but still looking for..

i feel a lot younger now
then when i did i was ten
i try to think of one reason
but can´t think..

2-perhaps that is it..
all my intuition gone..
that ancient reason..
i have developed so..

into a modern man..
lifted my pagan heart
for a logical land..
3-off to a complete start

4
til death do us part-
the circle is completed..
little by little
apart..

away and once
back and forward
but always the same
the key to the prison

shines in my mind
old young
once a man
twice a child..

if i were to draw up a manifesto
there would be nothing new
just the same old platitudes!
(so unlikely as the years pass..)

water and electricity would be
in the governments hands..
that goes for  trains and all essential
services..

there would be a building of
houses-at a fixed rent affordable
to all-a decent minimum wage
rigidly enforced..

income tax would fixed at 30 percent
65 and 90..
along those lines..
something to share..

we would make an equable society
vivisection illegal..
like wise poverty
for the old..

and children..
the arms industry
folded
off shore banking
a thing of the past..

teachers treated
with respect and paid
likewise..
likewise  garbage collectors etc..

the nhs would have whatever
it needs..
dentists,vets,lawyers,the city..
would bleed..

there would be howls of protest
from the rich and wealthy but
they may leave..
though there money would stay..

after so many years of their dominance
and just look about..
capital has failed only but the few..
getting fewer..

so a few ideas off the top..
so much fairy dust
still can´t hurt to dream
who knows..

a first line an opening line
an introduction..

an ice breaker
a fire starter..

a big bang
block sang..

a holy sign
your hear mine..

do you come here often
a word too soften

a smile..
something interesting

somewhat inane
and at the same time..

some mot juste
some witty expression..

you are cute
you so cute..

dancing thro the night
higher than a kite..

the summer is coming to a finish
the anti-bite sits golden..

the dwindling at the sand-
an extra blanket at hand..

the blue swallow flies south
scattered showers on red roof..

we breath relief..
cool the devil´s tooth..

then sad au revoirs
see you next year..!

the air picks at us..
but soon dry our tears..

i


i haver never ate a fast food burger
i have never met a famous movie star
i have never driven a fast car
i have never marched off to war..

i have never set out to mar
i have never been to mars
i have never eaten a mars..
that´s not true i have eaten a mars..

was the first couple of verses,lily,
it went on and on far and far..
and i have lost all three versions
pity,i like one or two lines..

though it could appear pointless
ramblings..i enjoyed writing..
and thought the sad and absurd
gave the love and pain a touching

touch..

ii

lily says..
she has given up on
the rats..
she arched it
across the way
in disgust..
how would we
expect them to
behave if they
gained the world..
again,which surely
they will..she,
is away at the wine..
but the assault on the
commuter train has
proved too much..i will
not allow these images
in my mind..if we consider
our treatment of rats..
they are similar to us somehow
so we experiment on them..
i can´t see them very forgiving..
in herberts book they are not..
but if one great mad moment
by proximity alone
and the ensuing terror..
but anyway what´s the hurry
says lily..we´ll **** ourselves
long before..


iii


tommy our very striking
cat
made a bid for my seat
i forgive him much..

he has a bad case of piles
bless!
what a carry on..
he hated the box..

but lay dormant
when the vet probed
his ****..
he was glad to be home..

and now we have some
ointment..
i just can´t remind her..
tommy will have to suffer..

we are both pretending
to forget..he´s in foul temper
but he can not have my chair..
a man´s chair is..a man´s chair..

try to write to be
i am not
when that
takes precisely..

to not be or to be
that is the question
really..
a priority..

that inspiration thingy
get an idea..
write the ****** down..!
writing..

the whole universe
to begin from..
the grave to die in..
and just the bit between..

do you know why i write?
well it is not for you or anyone
else..(unless it is..)i write for myself
if,this act of selfishness or egoism
(or dreams..)

or a line to shine on your
beauty..to fill in our part..
to make me reel before
your splendid heart..no..

or is it a voice that turns
my stomach to water..no..
i write for me!you hear!
or maybe your  love so

bravely caught like a snow
flake on the first tongue..
i write for me..for me
or may be your eyes

that burn and will throw
great inspired reckless fear
into some white..
and be..!for ever!..no..
i write for me..

it is a hot day in august
the many many tourist
they are a many seething
colors..

they go and sit by the first
sea
in the quiet
they are a humming hush
of technology..

some of the cafe
every skin
down to and by
the peaceful water´s

edge..
let the brilliant day
perform
it´s moment..

thirst
and famine
are pledged..
a ball too and fro..

lunch comes and
goes..
dozing in the shade
the afternoon is a long

dream..
broken only
by the spell
of hypnotic surf..

the child tumbles
and is set too
the predominant
setting is through..

it all just seems
quiet is ablaze..
a gull..
people huddle in

shrinking shade..
lover´s cuddle
in the waves..
these are the happy

days..
there
the sun
sinks..

and comes the
jasmine night.
the stars of light..
bewitch..

i loved buk* from the get-go
thank you lizzie from norway
do not lose them *******
you would say..

notes of a ***** old man
and factotem-
i remember them..
through him i liked poetry..

some may say adolescent
but he made so love..
and in post office
when an alsation

smells his ****,
we are all transported
to heaven..!
he threatened his audience..

who the hell is tom jones..

ii

well,lizzie, i lost them..
and losing borrowed books
were we in hell..
i lent them to some one who

swore the same..i hear your laugh!
he had a head on in the dark
he broke his leg and his friend
broke his arm..

the books were gone..
stupid **** you would say
i recall you big honest grin..
you said you liked me..

because i never turned down
a drink..
if this was irony
it was lost on me..lol..

so the books picked up
by some one passing
and loved and cherished
just like i do  you now..

changing lives and growing love..
i thought about you..
when they carried each other
past to the bathroom..

just drunk and fine!
while we looked on
thanks for lending me
them...

iii

lily say something
she is busy reading
the rats by james herbert..

a late sixties horror classic
every one gets it..
the rat is so deep in our pscyche
these one´s are wise

too..dog size..packs..
they have the taste
for human flesh..
it is early days..

it is a secret
a scratch causes
death
within 24 hours..

it is herberts way
this is a real period piece
a simple style
we had a national health

system..last remnents
of a great empire..
a working class
rats..are..eating..people...

in amongst our order
be it puppy baby
school boy
mary..

they are slashing and
pulling cheeks away..
i do skip bits..where

is the wine..

astrix

charles bukowski..

i..


is n´t modern world marvelous
lily smirks..
we would have been old

and dead..she regards
her toes
and rather wistfully

now,
young,
and ******..

it could be
but
always beauty..!

and adventure
go on
for ever!

ii..

a)


i never really
enjoyed party
lily..

i had to be
taught
how to breathe..

i had a little
death fascination
caught between

water and skies
by the quarry
white lime..

in my wellingtons
time
fathomless..

the very shallow water
reflected the
sky perfectly..

and rose out that mirror
see..
and eventually..

voices
sounded
to me..

very very very
beautifully
slowly

(i would say
adagio..)
i would think

good or bad
with my neck
at 60 degrees

this loud choral
arrangement-
the air quivered..

sometimes i would
make
to advance..

then rise in love
come!
come..

(the lively
imagination
of a lonely child..

or some kind of
out of world
experience..)

wild lovely entrancing
i would return
again and again..

b)

once,
there
stood
a
man
behind
me..

i made
to run
but
he
calmed
with
his
hand..

he looked
where i had
been looking
and listening
to the band..

looked at me
in question
i thought don´t ask..

then one time
two big policemen
resisted my charging

bike and form..
something happened
by joseph heller..

the more i returned
the quieter
the sounds..

until
they´d gone
no birds sung

no gentle breeze
so he stared into
my frightened eyes..

and something occurred
i felt his knowledge
his wisdom wise..

so we stood in this
pestilent place
this blackest of crows..

imparted of his way
somehow
i am still

trying to figure
out today..
what did he say..

so then on returning
there was barbed wire
and chipboard..

i looked at it long
a blockage
called too late
perhaps..


to keep the creative juices flowing
i filled in with this very good book..
  up their with the dice man
as prose noir..
another reworking of an old
poem and older..i remember but am no wiser..
..

so when in my dreams you rise with splendid phallus,
you say be my finest ***** just give yourself so..
i run my tongue along your shaft looking into
eyes that begging and mouths that moaning fast-us!

union lover..take all this loneliness and crush
my aching heart..with gentle ****** in teasing..oh,
now,push it through my ******* head do push it through..!
eradicate me and this lone shell this hushed curse..

outside in the little tree in the dawn castings
two blithe birds are the first of a new day idyll
there they stretching and yawn in the peace and grey hush..

because there will always be this here universe
because we will always love and be this here wild
because always through this here endless time that is..(amen)

no words or very few
make the difference
that is required to
make the difference..

and so i use accrued
sound-when talking
with you..just respond
with the same tones..

but before long so
what do you mean
listen to yourself oh
who do you think

your talking too..
i don´t know-
seems to be
not a clue..

what did you say
i said what you
say..
you can´t say
what i say..

go on say it
don´t be chicken
****..
****..

makes no difference
anyhow..
words seldom do
no difference
any how..

i)

my first girlfriend´s name was jennifer
(jenny wren the headmaster called her..)

every day (as packed by my mother)
i gave her a packet of crisps (salt and vinegar...)

at luncheon eternal love she swore..
her sweet kisses mine for ever..!

huddled diminutive together-
a pair of chip crossed lovers..!

ii)

ah!days of golden wonder:
a halcyon time to share..

then,perhaps due to human error
once,did the fates conspire..

where..?not here..sandwiches..a pear,
she was away and nose in the air-

off with roger the goal-keeper..
my heart crumbs on the floor..

iii)

at home i told my mother and father
he rustled his newspaper

mum said it was cupboard love or whatever,
i regarded the cupboard long and longer..

the dog wagged his tail by the door
the cat on the chair..

what was the answer..
not to care..?

i liked jennifer..
i would consider...


a pair of star crossed lovers-romeo and juliet-shak..

so i learned the guitar
with belief and ardor
driven by love and
threatened by gangsters..

mr. stevens, gentle teacher
carcassi guilini and sor
there was the time sand
where dedication lingers..

in his rails and drifter
the life of the traveler
his sweetheart´s hand
hardship and sufferings..

oh the old furniture!
wet arpeggios
and brightest andante
all that anonymous..

ah..the sunsets were
the irrefutable  lore
ah all the bonny lands
for better or for worse..

so harmonics preacher
the deepest core..
all recalled in wand
of magical verse..


all remembered in entire
in a lingering flaw
a travelling heart band
a gold listened purse...

a small trip down through the winding way down some serpentine stone
every moment accounted for with the rest of the populace and all alone..

down the road with the gas station right and the distant distance stance-
hazy mountain first taken and the seething teeth of the milling ant..

i crossed with great aplomb with that hat trash grin of the genius..
rose the sliding door of dark still gulped and touched my *****..

into the hush into that great blackness of dazzling blithe colour
i thought what do i want..what..before the  reaper  bone

carried me off..what do we  want..?mushrooms are down
that little *** of stuff incredibly annoying not much for less than

a dollar..there is decorum and order..there are ******* clad women
a secure i t y..house and job a good education for our children..

bread and shelter round the corner not so much some ice cream..
****** corpses litter the way ..mmm..

yes,it´s well to remember what we have to remember ..
eggs milk and some very cheap beer..

and that rather ***** old told sorry toad-a future..
who to tell?a short stay in hell..was that rimbaud..?

he was a gun runner..now,a lemon in which to stick
peppers to keep the flies away..love and kisses

that is free..toms are cheap and rich in me..
what else..i wish to die when i please..

that seems to be a basic human right..
some cold drinks for it is hot..

some human way off to the cashier..
is that all..now..

when i first picked up the guitar
i found i could play straight away..
something in am on the fifth...

the little girl next to me said.
i will be your girl friend!
(i thought,i was on to something

here.).and made it my life..
the time most lost or stray
the time of self destruction..

the time when wished dead
time of no time really..
i found i had forgot that...

just one time a singular time would
i like to get through a saturday
without being threatened by someone..

hey!you know,how many i have
threatened in my life time..(57)
none..not one..

have i led a dull uninteresting
existence-i wonder about this..
do i have a tale to tell..

anger and bile seems like hell..
anyway..i will look in the glass
and maybe write a poem..

the first time she smiled (at me)
i fell in love..wild..!?

i moved in (with her)
the cool dark ´50´s furniture..

we had six or seven cats (same litter)..
toby,irwin,walter,buster,sue,cindy,lester..

we hid from the gardener..!
watched operation triumpho (on tv)

dusty autumn gave way to winter.
and listened to maurice (on the radio)...

on sunday the choir practised below..
what did the future do..

well it played too some how..
everything being old and new..

the ambulance lounged outside..
along the coast was the cabo des gato..

we went there and rather foolishly
camped in a dry river bed..(flash flood)..

but here to tell the tale..the fire and
peaceful starry nights..(and love)...

and today seventeen years and no
on but still here this very moment..(rose bud)..

still here but another part of town
all water that..all rock..air would..

what an interest of the recent time this time in a way in one way let me see..
there are times i see ah there are those times..


when i curl up and dive in i saw long red i saw your lost and lonely
eyes wide and a blue sea..
power with the naked familiar aligned..

so it came and was a life..in that quiet understanding..the birds after
sang so sweetly..
this that and must be done..

the gob held on and from my chin..11.20..
before day..
my heart and soul resigned..

i thought i must do and i thought this must be..
i must dance in fast and push my dirk under
the rib cage ****** upwardly..

sit back and pray to sun and moon..
watch a tremble good and evil..
nurture justice like a fine wine..

i thanked the purest tune..
the gentle life breeze
blew and past time..

i turned my face from
my captive
and ****** like a succubus..

(they stick there black gums
to her ripe plums..
there a future prophesy..)

and nature and love....

she stretches long
a china dove
fragile songs

the one
the witch..
the one stood
behind
at the pit..

the burning voices..
i have never heard
such voices since..
some times i was afraid..

it was beautiful sound
held me spellbound
i ****
i freaked...

but looked on and
wondered
i thought what it
i would take a false
movement

i could tell the sexes
the women really
sounded
angelic
i stood and stared..

if my wellington became
stuck
and nearley
falling over..

they grew louder..
because as a child
nature is begnine..
i thought about this..
and stared...

there were quivering colours
years of lsd..later..
but i was 8
8 and ****
there was the wildest

crow like saint beelzibub..
stood behind
in that quiet quarry
lily..
after was seemed a long

time..he looked deep
in me..
this was my first
apithany..
and then he flew away..

his total me..i have never
seen like him again..
i was living..
he put something

where was only empty
he had crazy energy
but the voices..went..
slowly...
i was quite happy

and sad when they
went..but he placed
in me something i
could not place..laugh!

but he said too
you will never
tie my shoe.
i kind of agree that..

but..you might be proud
you might understand..
i went back and there were
two big police men

standing outside..the pit
was now blocked..
a narrow way
with chipboard and barbed wire..

and here began my love of the abstract..
now i stared at that instead..
and wondered
something occured
i did wonder how could such

a dangerous place..
no bird songs
the water sky face
madness wrong
evils birth..

be
so
far
from
worth..

the bad spirit lurked
or was it fact good
the voices called
if maybe should
death is love..

come on child..
the women sang
of love
and the more
i thought..

they must be beautiful!
the more beautiful
they sounded..
and a great ******..
joyful comunion..

it was wild..
i went back sometimes
the quiet
got in..

no voices..
and then
the thing
i wonder
what
happened..

in one picture a woman
on a telephone the lead
which leads to what may
have been a golden mannequin..

her eyes are blind and her mouth
hangs down she looks left..(her left)
the doll stands on the table..
in the heels what look like bullets..

in the second a scene in a washroom
a young man flees clearly affronted..
a woman bespectacled watches his retreating
back..and dries her hands..

everyone is incredible
it goes without saying
everyone is perfect and
dazzling..
everyone is thin...

(taken from a magazine..)

chopin, verily is dying
in the love of full moon
in sigh of summer breeze
a last glance into her eyes..

stranglers is a living
saturday night and *******
deep dark winter
a quiet cold brain..

i said to myself again and again
i will never drink again..never..
not now..but until then..
i will have a good time..!

dutch bob would say
alcohol is sneaky
(had i been a bottle of
beer i would have felt guilty..)

he would throw back his
great viking head and sing
tom dooley..early morns-
cognac beer and backgammon..

the friday before the whole fried
salt and desultory shake hand..
the news man intimated
words like latest and limited

exchange and we all will be informed
sold the last language..he cried..
there were our leaders grim face
there was the sky sea and land..

there,  the missiles casual arced..
the world quite another place..!
no more fish or dow index..
no more no next..

on friday last we stayed indoors
no more music at our behest
the dance so many deaths
waiting by the walls..

we avoided birds and eyes
and broke the silence with
a silence..
the flies caught in honey..

the world turned to see
all the toys lay
not much to be
not much at all..

being young is far from easy
the float it´s meant to be-be
the flit of the high and free..
the best greatest fast spree..

being old is a star to me
i mean,1 and 1 and 1 say
cried and smiled along the
way..no more really..

inside us lives every memory-
the birds sing happily..
they tell of us and we
comes one revelation day!

(my lover has doodled some strange prostrate cat
and it is my ambition to capture essence of that..)
it´s nature is of an aqua marine well kicked back
giving the aura of a feline on the beach is laugh!
it´s hind left has scored some thing but just what-
it´s eyes are as empty and smiled as sphinx pit
a pat..it´s cute proboscis   inverted t right height..
and the line as endless as life..if it could be it...
there is something endless and odd  happy light
it´s front paws should not really not be..but
as a whole and to hell ear fret a wood cut..might
have been a picasso if he did which so bright..
it is one great smile..and only one break past
and now with a tint of the future one and one..
i think i will put it on the wall or fridge something
to consider squared an questioned in blue time..

31 is a strange time
i lived in my old van
in a big tulips world
the winter´s cold

and the distant clock
cried the pain of man..
i drove my small polish
tractor..in the summer

by the water and dream
it was a blast an scourge..
i well short on word
look askance to what

seemed..sat in the kitchen
with a hot head
and paint
waited for you to visit..

toys for sun
that´s all i am
6 in 1
i think..

1)
the sparrows
that issue in
the bright morn..

2)
you..
and your sweet
kind
voice..

3)
the sky
sea
and naked agave..
we..

4)
all the white
angle
black lined
and more..

5)
this last year
or
so
never more alive..

6)

free..
happiest
sun´s shine
and blues..!

two minute poem
not expected to a
amount to much
but full may hap
lacking in stature..
to change universes
one and maybe two
lines..just the sentiment
of a few words set
in steel and verse..


well **** that was it!
two minutes
that have past like
my life....

(joy incarnate
literally he meant
from carna meaning meat
a musical feast..!)

he danced a  dawn sweat
with acid and an e head
the buses and bikes
forgot the when and why...

the choking waffles
his mothers voice
and and and
soon to try..

soon...and wait..
the silvery sway
held among the
wither dread..read

and red and said
am i not fortune
am i not bled
this instant..

am i not blessed
i am part
am i not some
weeping hapless
wound..


part and parcel
string and wax
am i not belief
am i not gods

love..
his love of us
do i not leaf
and tree
am i not free..

do i got
do i some
do all
when and why..