has their ever been
a more vain generation?
they paint themselves
and hole extremeties..

laughing at nothing..
but is that not the nature of youth?
loud and uncouth
as we once were..

try again,
where would we be
without pain
some dystopian story-

but at least we´d be
happy-(though, we knew not
why)-and if we tried
our brains fried

with sport and ***,
texts-to say what it may be
we would fail-
dismally..

i am a king in exile
(been here a while)
but return in style
dear people..yeah..
yeah..

and in my trail
freedom and love
a muse royal!
a new age!
a new pagan britain!

say a word of truth
lily-lu
like dog food
tell it true

like a bad tooth
in honest
supplication
i wait..

the more privation-
hunger to war
leading to starvation
(and war)
more to less-
to the few everything
less to more-
to hungering
critical mass
massed critical
-some unknown
number largely forgotten-
a national shame-
to be soon
soon to be
(self explanatory
really-)
gone alone
alone gone
freedom and this civilization
but off to the
moon
and then
what to do
the end..

remember,c,how we chanted
that poem-i do not-because i
choose not to..

the second part went
surreal and beyond
but i still have it
and guess what
there is a crushed flower..

but the first lines ran
i do not know if the world
has lied-i have lied..

an interesting start
and then-i do not know
if the world has conspired
against love- i have conspired
against love..

the daffodils blazed away..
the tractors ground by..
then,the atmosphere of torture is
no comfort-

i have tortured-
like the world is ok
but i am not..
now,i am ok and the world
is not..lol..don´t know what

happened..but the next lines
had me glugging wine-listen,
even without the mushroom cloud
still i would have hated-
my memory fades..

i will not be held under the
cold tap of facts-i refuse the universal alibi..
i think that´s right..
i try to avoid the book..
i stole it from newmarket library
have i not paid..


ii

the second part made no sense really
to me so i kept it to myself
you would understand
no doubt in a blink of those yellow flecks
but it went something like

like a telephone kiosk past at
night and remembered
like the mirrors of a movie palace lobby
consulted only on the way out
like a nyphomaniac that binds a thousand
into a strange brother hood
some thing..i wait for each of you to confess-effed up somewhere
no doubt..

i)

why stress the
obvious
and leave other
stuff
to the birds
is it enough..

sing, like billy-o-
(god, knows we
did nt ask
to
be..)
love

sits square upon
their tongues
and in a stretch
of a wing
beauty and
understanding..

ii)

they say, michael,
(for we are familiar)
(not in the demon-witch-helper
genre but maybe,no,
sometimes they lack
decorum though-)..

iii)

quite or quiet,
for their silence
saved (me)
on occassion
for,what do we
fear most in the
jungle,children..

i

sometimes it is hard to do
the right thing
(everything is wrong)-

too much-not enough
hate and love
who cares

sins of inclussion
and omission
almost the same

purity
obscurity
obtuse

specific-
say what you mean
mean what you say-

silent why
too quiet
too loud

shrinking violet
too proud
prone

get up
hate or love
too fat

too thin
we like you
we don´t like you

do this
no,do this
no-do that

not that..
god!
devil!

mad!
too good
too bad..


ii

yes,she says, i lived
by denial-like
beauty

when i was young
i would breakfast by
the nile

it was beautiful
i was very ill-
hepititis

yellow as their beautiful
lemons
amid the greens

felucaas and croissant
i smoked strong hash
and stayed awake

through the night
the athan,so beautiful
i would not sleep..

when young lily
i liked women hairy
you know, natural..

and painted faces superfluous
made dull
the sun as  beautician unsurpassed..

their skin of lemon and brine
the little lines around
their eyes..

blues as the sea and sky
the rasp of the evening tide
the evening to come..

i

so that is natural
in the jungle-
one ´s beans are one´s
own..

and woe to anyone
who doth encroach..(poe)
(o lily we are nearly
poached..)

she sighs and says
and what for civilization
then..a plastic duck?
information?

nomadic man effed or
fought and then
he constructed a fence
planted a bean and said

mine..

ii

that´s all fine
but what of a hot bath
peace and tranquillity-

all history is gossipp
any way
live for today..

when confronted by a mirror
i said, be clever!
hide away where
no-one will see
where no sin lays-
´tween tomorrow
and today..

for love is silver
and lasts forever
death is yesterday!
live for now..!

it is funny how
you can buy a musical instrument
and their is wisdom and hope
passion and love

or death..course the guy in the shop
tells you none of that-
you will want a book..?
(patting his pocket..)

in your eyes are their stars..!
yer womans a groupie
dad´s a roadie
boy,you will go far..!

ii

next thing you know
your studying the rules
white of visage upon
the re-hab wall..

-your brain a kind of
demented-dumbledore
going:
oh god..oh god..oh..

what become of
memory
we sitting by the
sea

i watched your ruddy
cheeks
and following
the

waves
that hardly
bother
to break

we are but still
there
your eyes shining
and shiny hair..

one look to the stars
and mans destiny is
beyond words-

lily is a bird
messenger of the gods
a wish wished..

she steels her magnificent
plumage
and stretches-

luxury
is a fine
way to be

if you know
how
the heart

to the skies
all the price
and showed..

i


-hello happy?!?
-how did you out?!
well.i was incarcerated

but with a cunning combination
of howling(a la luna)
and moribund silence-

i was allowed back in the house..
then jeanie came across
with a bottle for strictly

and at approx 8-05
they ordered in..
lin arrived on his vespa

and while remuneration
and change began
i was away

nose in the air
heart of the plain
to the pickled gherkin..

ii

money takes precedence
not much is free
but beer and chips

there is love and history..
i watched you from afar
i see you near-

(ernie-ecce ****!)
hello,edna-
charmed,i´m sure...

lily stomps the dust
like a warrior
in one lacy mitt
last nights bier

and in her other
her latest creation-
the ladies of lust
a face on-

little boxes of raw
by the merciless lit
lone the simple seer
in a wasted aeon-

she strides the cusp
of peace and war
rouses to a hit
and lights to land

turned a page
a wild hand
-the flowers of rust
burn like straws

in the hate
garden
the waxing and waning
sweet darlings

on a still morning
what then
the air tor!
listen and kiss..

ii)

the surreal holds
little appeal
for some-
i like a dream and
i like it
real..

a thin line between
pretentious *******
and genius
a **** or a bells
peal..