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

i got a new chair
a family affair
the other
broken like
a broken heart
on a may evening..

i felt like samson..
it is ten years since
she had cancer..
lily,wilful creature..
i stood ikea..!

ii

i do loathe poetry
until i am ******..
and then i fall in love
all alone..

lily,
and my pen
just flows..
and the next day
ten years gone bye!
flown a lost dove..ah..

iii

with all the rain
the agave fallen
****** puddles
in my room..
bird song
through the nights..

lost count of the tvs
now,we have 5 cats
i read adventure..
to abode beneath
southern climes..in

a somerset maugham yarn!
i have come to like sweeping..
and have nearly forgotten
the little bamboo constructions..
by the sea..

we have one of the noisiest
kettles ever invented by man
it is a real trojan..
or sleeping in the desert
or living in my van by a stream..

drunk and free..
so,i have that chair
a long time..
the new one even worse
but good for one´s posture..
wine was so cheap..
the stars so bright..
i read the russians..
we were bare assed and naked...

the beauty of crete
i was consumed with the
beauty of crete..
their dancing sacred!
we dug holes
surrounded by family
and friends..
i dug holes so
******
so depressed
so beligerently..

but they understood..
if i shewn any sign of recovery
they handed along and down
a bottle of something..
which gave me some thing
like insane..
and we´d be howling and laughing
in no time..going fit to ****..

and for dinner they would feed us
or go to the soup cafe..!
or to say soup kitchen
and then to the cafe
and we get so ******
no one cared
and runnng after
the man..
to get paid and
he has no change
and a way we go again..

i was consumed with the
dazzling mountains
but the villages impossible
too quiet
too ******
time after time..
i always enjoyed wine..
the local style..
ah..the bus rides
so close to death
the silent left
donkey dread..if,
the driver met a friend
we would stop for a drink
and a lot of shouting..
i worked on our gabbage truck
when george had to have his break..
george was our landlord too bless
he gave me a present every day
he would eat half a nut and press
the other half on me..
and come in the room
when he chose..
with a wild scream..
we had a lovely garden..
and frighten everyone..


he did not want a vacation
and to show his disgust
raced in front
and picked up
the garbage..
all his money went
on cognac..
we stopped at
most bars..
and at the end of the shift
we spied on the hippy chicks..
george would get his wheel barrow
and moonlighting..
i would play backgammon..
and do some reading...

i can do no right
i feel like a blight
every wrong so
movement..
no how silent
(if war became art!)
the sun and moon yet..
i feel a great debt..
i think soon be dead
the hare in the moon said
just a stop gapped
reborn and bled..

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)

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..

..and when the man came to
town with a violin
bright socks on

a squeeze box and
the lady of the forrest
sang..!

the dogs and children
ran for a half penny
for the love of anyway..?!

the old men filled
their pipes
hospitality

on their lips
news and songs
from the city-

gives the old ones
they cried..
the women sighed and

the crows flew
but danced to the
sea..

a)

i


they nigh on carted me away
in some distant palmed bay
cashew fenny* and too much beauty..

(you know the way..)
it would have been a short fray
they left no exit free..

i was zonked and skinny
they were three
and tidy..

i eyed the nurse wearily
exotic the flora and tree
the birds- free..!

the people so politely
inclined
sands so dazzling
..

b)


so,i said
must be off
late for tiffin..

which
was
funny..

anyway she
laughed
and i made

like a blade
of grass-
blowing

on spring days
past the guys
and did not glance back..

ii

they had me cornered
i thought well,now,
i´m ******..!

i was naked
lsd..?!
lol..

but we british
we have a saying
never darkest then

before the dawn
and we introduced
tiffin..

how did we rule this
world
the biggest empire

this world ever
knew..
quick thinking


..

c)


in india this woman
this woman lay naked
awaiting my passage..

i near on tripped over
her brown skin one time
she was so pretty..


d)

i was twenty


e)

fenny is like poteen
or raki..i liked it
made from either coconuts
or nuts..a memory of my youth
..

if i could
cast some
cold light
which would
burn a hole
deep in your
heart from
afar off star
leaden a glide..
then i
look out my
eye grin out
and what did
everything there
is here doubt
fear and blight
weasel dome
all known-
that red lid
peeled off
until less
scars and more
the hollow
cries mercy less
in your down
tender and like
a cheese grater
i stare out as
no more endures
and shiver jelly
grey and dead
surround..
(yes..i have a
raison d´etre..)

like a chick pea
burst in the micro
will terminate
our civilization so

a glance to skyward
that is all we´ ll know
a bit of buzzing
a bell will go

a giant portal open
we will do
the state of
that too but

the end..
great no
deny
cubed through

now later
tomorrow
just a little
lingers..

******* hot
slammed shut
darkness
some growth..

as a child i had my toys,
as an adolescent a comb,
as a teenager nothing,
in my twenties a guitar

a bag and a walkman..
in my thirties an old ambulance,
in middle age more of the same..
now, i am 63,books, etc..

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..

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..

I do not know if
the world has lied
i have lied
i do not know
if the world has conspired
i have conspired against love
the atmosphere of torture
is no comfort
i have tortured
listen,
even without the mushroom cloud
still,i would have hated
i will not be held like a drunk
under the cold tap of facts
i refuse the universal alibi..

like an empty telephone booth
passed at night and remembered
like mirrors in a movie palace lobby
consulted only on the way out
like a nymphomaniac that binds a thousand
into a strange brotherhood
i wait for each one of you to confess..

Leonard Cohen

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..

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...

we, that is my brother and me
crashed their dressing room!
they were real gentlemen
they were real understanding
****,we were ******..

i had this in my ears
from morning through night
saved my ***
as we argued..

we liked st paulis!
that vauxall estate..
covered in scabs..
we argued..

argued when it rained
which was almost daily
p would say
his picnic thing

...which was a veiled cry
to get out the skins..
through gentle pitter pats
the locals guzzled their

beer under orange taupaulin
we grinned at each other
and as the rain came down harder
we sank deeper in the mire..!

ii

in the 60´s
(and for most
of the seventies)
there was
free school
dinners
free school
milk
free education
(including
university)
there was free
dentistry
there was free
health care
(free prescriptions)
free eye tests and
spectacles..

there was cheap housing
(homes not investment)
council houses!
where the rent was less..
(only so called tramps
were homeless..)

and there was hope
even we had hope
hope is a thing with
feathers*
(emily dickinson)

i actually talked to my heroes
and they were pretty interesting
some say never meet your heroes..
some say there are no more heroes..

but i found them modest interesting
and fearful in about the same measure..
so..
i noticed the rats did too..

i will write
three poems
today
it is my women´s
birthday
she is 59
same as me
we met when forty
she worked in the cafe
we and her eight cats
hit the road in my ambulance
we went up and down the coast
i guess we see many things..

we snuggled the winter into
spring..from little white village
and endless sparkling beach
to the touristy places and this
******* river beds..mad dogs
the dusty cacti and hoopoes..


we see lots
early morning dips
bright stars
bright surf
lots of churches
time enough
lazy days..


(and now 17
years on
we go
where has
the time gone..?)

i


a kestrel
in the agave
looks back at me

(when  or) if
an unstoppable fo
rce
struck

an unmovable
object-
what might be?

i play county
down
now,
f away..

ii

but leave me
soul!
leave me
my heart!!

o beauty
most
o eye of
god

fly like
a wild dream
we must
all

part..
life´s crust
is hard!
for a sweet love

in such delight
truest
sight

the kestrel in the
agave
wants another

but i am old and
rust
i have forgot

sundry jig..
i learned along
trout shores..

iii

my love is
baking bread

lily says
she is fed

up and stoops t
o
dead..

iv


head..
said
lily past

some
latent
blinded

heat
wait
last

one
man
band..

i

lily in affectionate play
sinks her teeth into me..
she will sit upon my knee
and  a paradiddle

in non conformity
of peaceful means
or general devilry
heralding halloween..

beat a resonant astrix
eternity..
as we celebrate the safe
gathering

of the crops and
consider her
ancient wisdom
knit some socks..

ii

yes,
samhain
is upon us
again..

and marks the
end
of the pagan´ s
sacred

year..where in
the beginning..

we
set an extra
plate for
the dead..

we encouraged
to process
death
and our fear..

we remember our
dead
and the dead
of war..

honor to our
ancesters
a  lament
to summer´ s

end..
the gold of
the gods
shivers..

to the still
of the winter
dream
to be..

iii

letter from spain
i know that you two
have all elation!?
i hope your not
hitting your
head too much
i do
i catch my toe
in my music stand
and yesterday i lost
my glasses
it is good policy
to stay put
bathing is quite
interesting
cockroaches are
becoming abundant
spelling is patchy
i curse days
of excess
thankfully
i cant remember
now i like
moderation
sweet sense
sweet mary jane
on occasion
a cup of tetleys
and love song
bide like the
andalucian
the dear little swallow
circle the agave
the butterflies ******>numerous
no pollution
o the sparrows
the cacti are red
diamond shines
forth
i wake at sparrow
****
with a galloping
heart
soul seekers
feed everyone
i tried a new coffee to
day
i read either
whiskey galore or
the fall of the house
of usher
i keep a poetry
diary
a fine short story
writer john mcgahern
collected stories
and in a napolean
coste state of being
stare at the sea..

i



did you know lily
it is impossible to think
in english

logically
that is
difficult

but not
impossible-
eg

to be has 21
distinct meanings
and every one

false to fact..
(what ever
that means..)

answers on
a ciber
postcard..

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..

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..

breathing is difficult
wanting not to
is hard..

but i am built
to last
word..

i have good ****
for my hip
and dickey heart..

and music
and eat
chips

and salt
and vinegar
soul food..!

he was kind
**** saw eh
aws nkdi..!

but messed up
pu
tub

they met
heyt tem

but didn´t
bother
reh tob..

she did nt
care
care..

they went
their separate
ways..way..

i always envisaged me
as a man met everyday
but who was never met..
stepped to a non exist

from some far imagined
some distant punch line
a question marked
a low mirror signed

waiting for my wine
but a glass of neither
half
arrived..

and yet immersed in
to white trees
to a magnificent
blue..

i began to feel
where else
underneath
the stars
(and you.)