sometime ago i can´t remember
when,
i was waiting at an airport
i think it was stanstead and
i am sat on one of those radiators
chilling and reading my book
inwardly cursing all humanity
when at my feet upon my bag-
quite small my partner brought in
morocco-i noticed a dog..it
was like effing it..i thought stange-
there is a dog effing my bag!where am i?
you know when you are reading and enthralled
it takes a few seconds to focus..hey..a dream..
no..there is a dog really..so i look up and
there are four or five soldiers with fingers on
their triggers..and they are watching me and this dog
so i get it..ok..so we look at this dog-someone is having
a good time..?!in an airport imagine..well, i said good
dog and tried to make friends being an animal lover-
and went back to my book..eventually it went away and
i looked at my bag and felt mildly violated..then looked up
at the milling crowds..but their still stood a solitary soldier
looking down at me..

i

i have a recurring dream
it is infuriating
i thought it had gone
but it returns..

it is best not to dwell
on and on
that only makes it
return..

there are worse things
in the subconscious
dissolution and murdering
someone..

like waking from a
drunk with blood on
one´s hands..
no mind..

ii

i knew a dentist
who did the same
i suppose he is out

by now..
losing your guitar is
small potatoes..

upon conception
i understood deception
(and have not been dissapointed)
to the annointed:

there is love and trust and
faith-for all the children
for every lost star
to all the shining wraith..

she is too ******* herself
the past can not be helped
for all my sins
love is my penance..

she says-with in
lies my redemption
here and now and your
darkling eyes..

the marble has gone and
alone-who wants to be alone?
we will believe anything
rather than, alone..

there may be 7 billion..
there may be alien..
there maybe spanish afternoon
television..but alone..

i-


the trick is not to
look back (or as
dennis hopper says
in his movie, so
elegantly,
no looking back..)

but since the future
is only accessible to
a few
we have to make do..
learn to sew
the difference re-new
circling true..

ii-

caw!
my mum went to school
with you?!

this is called things that
annoy me-
comedy as philosophy..

people who stare
across the bar after
being refused

casual-oral..
the sparrows..
books that fall apart

when i read them
i am no longer young
and yet younger..

people who say they are
better than me but
when asked as to the wherefore

say something ridiculous..
history
geography and algerbra..

the can-can
laughing police-men
losing my marijuana..

what passes for fun
some persistant tune
stood on lego..ow..

towels trowels and owls
(but not the last one
every summer there is


sweet cry in the night as
it calls for a mate..!)
paradox..

rollerskates
skates
fate..

lost socks
rusty woks
love in hock..

poems
that go on and on
om...

one of your angry ones´
lily-?
i like to let rip occasionally

creation can be release..
like what to
could be hit by a bus..

poetry is music
just with-out the music
the stars are music
just with-out music

your beauty is music
and so on..
music is music
but what of silence..

i

the futility of it all
says lily-futile-?
the devils,

grandier, as an ambitious
parson
the possesion of a holy order

he, burned and tortured..
(or everyday hysteria?)
in line at dia

ii

her point being
i think modern day
a hell that the inquisition

could only dream..
or no point to be
something..

on line two-there is
a caller?!hey?!
what would you do
if you were attacked by
a big dog, lily-well,i would run
i suposse..

though sometimes there is
no where to run..
i don´t know-something
unexpected-offer love and
friendship
a kiss-and what is your
favourite poem..?

i don´t really have one
the next or the last
walter de la mare..
or when confronted by
a predator-punch it on
the nose..prey for divine
intervention..

ii

can you make up something
now?

-i don´t know-there is
a little bird that bothers me
white wings perhaps a portend
of death-twigs shiver..
the sky howling whence
it has been-seeing through my
window-what may it be..
through one eye and frozen expression
he considers ..is it past future
or now, i don´t know..

iii

thanks, bye!..o good luck!
(i don´t believe in luck-)
my mum went to school with you
now i am ancient..

and sometimes a child..
between assorted hex
between a twix at four
and no hell..

you know that no-how
hiker-death in the eye
all roads lead
a lost log blues..

ketchup as in the
blood
some mojo sealed
impossible and red

from a negative to a
could-
more felt
less angst-be

possibly..
i mean if i tried
god would love me..
why not

from tepid to hot
from to too
from two
to trot

so donne my wings
and cloud
be proud-
be a part

have a heart
swoon above
find some sort of
love..

indeed,we would all be
insane if it were not for
creation..

the destruction of kali?!
-the imagination of harbour´s
safe haven..

i

every time i write i wonder why, (examing
her arm pit
running through the mine pit
like a canary

momentarily ahead with the noxious
fumes gaining..)
if it were love
or money..

ii

god must have wondered too
(that would no doubt be
blasphmy in less enlightened times..
they would have tortured me)

but when he made me and you
the gift of creativity
remains-(and burnt me like
an old tree..)

iii

so,(see how far we have come)
so,we have freedom
(to be used responsibilly)
(neither love nor money)

and who is to say-what will
be..
just to say one thing! that may
be of passing interest to someone..

iv

that is the question
why bother-i distrust our
motive-it´s brevity
is too short

it´s length too long
just say what you mean
and let us leave it at that
beauty?

love and money
again..
inexstrictable pain
and monotony..

why do i write?
because..
breathing will not
stop..

dear crow

i recall biking up a hill
stood out the saddle
giving it all..

when a peddle
came off
oof!

i went down like
a sack of potatoes
and lay supine

contemplating mother
sky..but as i said to a star
when she fell from

her chariot of  slaves-
it is not how you fall
but how you rise..

dear lily

wise words
in a world
patiently mad

are we fated
love or hated
happy or sad

good or bad
to fall-hit the deck
**** over ***

a peddle short
the farm bought
to drop like leaden

balloons- just an accident..
o lily i pick you up!
and hold you

in my loving wings and together
we soar!away from tired
unfetterd mishap..

dear lily

of fame is comparable to
death
(in it´s singularity..)

heaven, a number of
whitest bathroom
to a hall of hell-

local celebrity, and
are you so and so?
did n´t you used to..?

and, of course, fear,
will you sign their ****
what no..?

fame, as mr bowie said..
and are we not the dead?
do we have a life..?

dear crow,

i distain the cult of celebrity!
but a girl has to make ends meet
my blackest raven!

i am reading at poetry etc in
the park
will you be there..?

tommy our cat has nothing
to do-has he read the small print?
what you put in
you get out..

my father said the same to me
the flowers in my window
are my soul freed
what to do..

life is what you make it
as the song says
stand on a leg in the desert
who gives a s*?

go round in circles or
fall from an edge
read the classics
search for gold..

but don´t expect any thanks
love in beauty
write poems
as my mother would say..

ii

you´re not very tolerant
lily..
the devil got in..

through a panel..
i thought i was going up
but was stationary!?

(well it happens..)
a child with teddy
in hand..

something went
wrong-lights went out
and hysterics ensued

there stood a strange
man
reciting strange words

a man called stu
it was called
so i hid..

they will dine upon your heart
amid silence and ****** complaint
they ask and you have forgot
what your looking at..

you will be the boot..
a hole where once layed the part
a sole or soul or just nowt
now a toy soon forgot

you are pathetic and you will agree-tut-
filling your glass from an empty bottle but-
but them no buts..
you look like jabba the hut..

and you feel like it, yes,
never love a stranger your mother
might have said and now they are
even prettier..

i)

one of the great challenges in
this world is to know enough
about a subject to know your right-
BUT NOT ENOUGH TO KNOW
YOUR WRONG..?!

what is that ******* asks lily
marking a page
i dunno, its sunday morning..
you got it wrong-no..

it´s lost now anyhow..
confuse them with the truth
there is now information unbounded
yet we are still dumbfounded..

once, we never left the village
we knew more then
he no-doubt went on to explain
while we were thinking, right-wrong

never enough-this world *****
anyway you look at it-
(i smelled money in the cosmic breeze)
put some pink floyd on..
what are you reading..?

the marsh arabs by, wait-wilfred
theisger..it´s a *******?!
(if you like travel books-)
only chapter two-now
hospitality is the name..

nostalgia ain´t what it
used to be,lily..?!
one of our glorious leaders

suggested we should get on our bycicles
and look for work..(like his father) but did we feel
disenfranchised and cheated..?

yes,we did..did we resort to substance
abuse and was there an epidemic
of depression?..

yes..and yes..and were the prisons full
to overflowing and were prisoners dying
on remand like flies..you bet..

were there tent cities and the youth
cutting the grass with scissors as
part of work creation..

did they flaunt their wealth..
champaigne and sports cars
our boom industries..

and did our glorious leader
care more about some sheep farmers
10 thousand miles away..

(they had rights but we did not..)
who were the enemy?
were travellers beaten..

did they close care homes
for care in the community
(to save money)

and they found their way
down into the subways
in their pyjamas..

were the lloyds investors
bailed out by the tax payer
did we turn away at their greed

and love each other..did
they begrudge us 29 pounds a week
were parties illegal..

but great fun..i don´t know
i lived in greece in a tent
far away..

i

nature was near
a flower
a star

we new our
place
god was great

an insect
was an insect
our selves

there was order
life was brief
a butterfly flew..

ii

why do i write?
because i can´t..
why..
plop..!

to be a clown
love makes us all
falling

yes,is fine!
up and down
up and down..

dear crow,

for some it´s all too much
and for some it is all to little
for some it is the middle..

for them a mad second
to them a long long time
you know..

take my underwear again
and it will be a police matter
little bird on the wire..

dear lily

a robin red breast in a cage
puts all heaven in a rage
a dove house filled of doves and pigeons
shudders hell thro all it´s regions
a dog starved at his masters gate
predicts the  ruin of state
a horse misused upon the road
calls to heaven for human blood
each outcry of the hunted hare
a fiber from the  brain does tare..

this morning a crane was
making a crane
but what made that crane?

the old chicken or egg
question: pain made
pain-but..

dear crow,

wish dream as below
so is above or so
a balance too

natural magic know
the imagination-the will
o..

the simple and beautiful
from the weather to a feather
humanity and co..

ii

you are a little boy
flapping his hands
at what he wants but doesn´t..

crying and crying..
you want mummy´s hand
you want to waste..

when you have what you wanted
o dear-you don´t want it..
lying on the floor in the supermarket..

driving in your little car
o peep-peep
look at me..!

exactly the same as a
bottle of coca-cola dark
and clear..

and crow, who is to blame?
someone over there!
poor dear..hamburger..

iii

still,there is redemption
an uncarved block-
a mirror..

there is always the sun
love literature and love
agree to differ..

others like you love
yourself..learning..
etc..

there we are, stevie howling
like how can we be to the setting
son and a butterfly collector..

kidnap really, and put in a jar
so lovely dust falls away
in bitter recollection..

your tuned to lily(guest dj)..!
a dance of flailing true
from the beautiful 52s´..?!

after this voyeuristic lament
another beauty
we are all quite sane..

we have become
i will read an old one-
there is no hell..

ii

there is no hell
so we made one
such is man..

desparate dan
on a jag of boredom..
come, little soldier

eat up hamburger
mainstream stars
lonely land..

iii

as the keys fade into
thunder i have been told
to press a button..

(a word from our sponsers)
eat this ****
youll be alright-lily laughs..

a song to dead genius
nothing more sad
hearts breaking..

iv

(a reluctant admiration
always the sun
you could see we english

we were in our underpants
i thought that said alot
i was down the far end

with the naked hairy germans
in pain no shade
in the sun..)

v

eclectic can be rather
a pretention
but i thought we might go

classical-here is the man
nocturne on high
chopin..enjoy..

vi

back again-i read somewhere
he composed from his death bed
in them i find faith and love

and also a boy called johnny-
your listing to lily-submission..
you got real pretty teeth baby-

or so i heard before
the computer..to the leaving
of liverpool

the age of sail..
the clipper ship in full sail
*** ****** and the lash

as churchill once said
in a speech..now we have a break
for news traffic and weather

another..

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 thought you might read a
poem-i having nothin
new-given up hoping
i put out my heart

for the love of it but-
but devoured by thankless-
more or less they cried
say hard..

so. we have silence which
is much better
in the flickety-flower
i hear (god etc)...