i never dished it out and i refuse
to take it in
i held myself in a kind of cosmic
equilibrium

accepting the vague random love
as surely
as my glass of milk
and twix at four

fate being the difference
between
the sky blood and free
a lone apple core

wandered with some
habit
nothing noting
not no

being all in
complete
and yet
so

giving and taking
apart
pivoting
and started

like some barn
station to
flexible
or rigid so

thus receiving
and giving
but at a safe
distance..

i never liked red
but i grew to love him
in a world of late
his poor eyes dim

a street his way
hungry and thin
patient
he waited in

the cold ..
brave on a pin
and heat
nothing certain

nothing..
(stray cat
with a cataract)
shy yet bold

red from his fired
red skin
neat
kin

to none
loved by god
me and mine
beat-

(like k meant..*
one for his
road)
bless ye..!?

i notice if there was a constant
it was you-
you blamed me for your
madness
that was quite a recurring
theme
all  through the confusion
and excess
you were sure of nothing
but this
had you died then
and there
recrimination
on your lips
a raised digit
from the dead
it was my fault
not the pills or
the *****
not your taste
in pain
not your father
or mother
i was in error
not any
other
not even your
god forsaken
predictability
it was me
to the small hours
and on
number one
and why
when all
every other
was fine..
well i don´t know
but you do
there is something wrong
with you(me)
there is something
wrong
with me..
you..

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)

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..?

i


perhaps you can write a song
about me
all is vanity
!?

i donate the proceeds
to charity
lol

pride comes
before
a fall

you have to know
how to
fall

drunks and babes
know how to
fall

i never knew far to
fall
some

did not pay
my guitar
was stolen..

a woman ran away
a hole in my shoe
..a nut loosen

i realized who you are
when lying in bed
last night..

i thought this being
rather typical
of myself..

i have had an awful
delayed reaction
which has plagued

me all my life..
this one
i can hardly believe..

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 remember one time
(when i lay in bed this morning)
when a goat took a shine

(to me)..if a cat or a dog does
the same
predictable our response
mechanism-

the sun was shining and
this one,
detached itself from

it´s companions and stood
masticating
still and staring

(at me)-(i was probably hung-
over and paid it little mind but)
when it came

closer and stopped chewing
the seconds ticked on
white like an angel wing

eyes of amber and green
(i needed a drink!)
the farmer began

to laugh and i tried to shoo
it back but when
it gave scant attention

and continued looking
completely static then
it did not blink

here was something ..
it was rather embarrassing
(now,the farmer was laughing

so hard,he brushed tears
away from his  eyes)
the little apparition

regarded (me) like
saintly pan
and i looked away and

wondered about breakfast
looked back again
then the farmer attempted

with a wave of his calloused
hand
to fain anger

but the kid
stubborn to the last
remained resolute

continued it´s vigilance..
my face quite confused
what ancient forces

at the dawn
the domestication
to this time?

i see and saw little
point in hate
genius is the middle
the fulcrum saint

truth and the devil
extremely faint
somewhere peripheral
a negative taint-

the centre a crazy cat..!?
i found my inspiration
in my heart
that is where the fun

is at..!
(kept
apart
a secret

light..)

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..

is it taboo to know
oneself?
rather count
wealth
or eat a twix?

think and breath..
and the remote
far away so
or take
a risk..

is it Thursday already
sheep all move
he is cocky
that catched rat´s tale..

it is balm that sooth
firth of forth
in my crib
i laughed..

lime in the coconut
ad lib..
i broke down
on this day..

and turned to
sound
it was somewhere
to belong o..

and two legs
sure sanctuary
a beauty of vistas
your eyes..

i)


is my life ridiculous?
(a question we occasionally
ask
ourselves..)
an elf

before sundry giant
defiant
looking up
past unsurmountable

club
ancient alliance-
death and worse..
armed only

with magic wand
to hand
mayhap called
love-

a floppy hat
my heart
5 cats
a rat

a sparrow
the spirit of
the wind
a wild flower

by the window!
o diminutive
shadow
so
mad

looking in..
a naked toe
glad
but not hopeful-

how ´s the weather
up there?!
ridiculous!
and the law
too

turn
and twist
a possible
nightmare
through

the gloom
a paw
offers
assistance
blue

silence..
what are you?
a thousand
a month-
elf..

kind of-
in some respects
priceless
sometimes dull
but always

grateful..
small but
sometimes
equal to

a universe
hardly a mouthful
but
beautiful..
full

yet markedly
a void
ugly
yet elated
happy

yet cursed
sad
curious
and laissez faire..
aware elf

but disinterested..
apathetic
and thick
obtuse
but loose

and charming-
(just eat him!)
sometimes
i hardly recognise

myself,
perhaps a
******-elf-
all is possible
wealth never
enthralled but..

(splat..!)

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..


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..
..

is the beetle a monster
all things relative then
i mean if a lot littler
we all lost on some plain..

if we clubbed together..
the truth an overpowering
could turn that sucker!
or ants lost in irksome dream..

is the internet the worst
thing that ever happened to
the human race and if so,
why..

i don´t know,
where would i be
without  you tube
i never thought i´d
hear all
the old music
that i grew up
with..

it is the greatest
library
that´s ever
been..

and yet something
in my soul
shrinks
at the sight
of a screen..

perhaps i am
just old
the truth never
further
away
than the day
i was born..

is the mirror a
soul?
look over my
shoulder
my beauty
all is known..

i see your face
on christmas morn
paul..
your first guitar!
joy to man!
the bell´s ring-
ding-****..!

i survived myself because of myself
a mix of the diabolically clever
and ridiculously slow
perched on some far away shelf
happy as a ******
with little to do..

the sky perfectly reflected me
and in my turn i adorned it
with various unspoken woe
i was four for three
the devil´s wit
nothing did know..

i said i know i
with instinct
through
age old way
look into this
sad heart
genius or idiot
o wise mirror
are we not lost
as urchin..

i

i think why not to let
but proved the query set
a double somersault-twist
or kiss your sweet lips..

can  end in cold death-
still the birds in the trees
go cheep or not at all..
i have reason to not question..

ii

i have memories return from the crib
it is all just part of the aging process
we beetle by saying that can´t be right
the lights´ get bright and bright..!

birds talk to us but i don´t hear voices
we become preoccupied with prices..
i recall four blackjacks  a penny
dying has a long curious way..

i am pretty sure i am someone else
absolute and completely and yet
these early feelings as blithe pictures
remain constant..



iii


more work less ******* about
but creation is just living
some absolute and indistinct
(it is tough being a poet..)..

iv

lily says,for it is her,
you don´t play no more,
only i say in mind
the years don´t lie
content´ s fragile store..
repetition dulls the brightest
core..eventually a silent purr ask´ s why
not why not..

v

why write poetry says lily
because it is a futile act
of achieving something perfectly..
we like that..


or like stubbing one´ s little toe
a rabbit from a dream hat
in a vain effort to retain what
remains of my memory..

lily why not or why bother..
lily red diamond from her
eyes sparking like a star is
just a ******* star baby..

she half nelson bottle wine
why do anything..a sign
a metaphor an hieroglyph
love and hate lily..

or the little bird in the agaves
i would like to shoot that one
hate and love lily
porquoi-pas..

vi

i read o twenty years before actually commiting to paper
not much but i knew the stuff i loved and kept there
i know it was charles bukowski i loved his funky gear
thank you norwegion liz for lending me his books dear..

ham on rye and factotum you say don´t lose them mf
i swore i would not lose them i would not lose them kf
kind friend..but i lost them i lost them..df..
dumb ******..


i leant them to someone that swore the same
they suffered an horrendous head..crang..
on and the books lost the books got lost..
there was scant satisfaction in plaster form..

maybe they went to a happy home
so not my fault that his drunk poems
god is he fun liz i hear your laugh then
such a wild sound ..generous so!

you said i should write and thank you
only human to encourage me true
and always a good drinking companion
you bought decent wine..

i adored cognac o..that was my poison
you always attracted van gelis errant tounge
unpleasant but one had to watch him..
that was his fun..

and then backgammon
goes a bit faint then..
i would like to say i won
you told me roland was cheating..

i think it was fun to play him anyway
esspicially on cement truck day..
not that he ever bought me a drink
not that i liked cement..

i lived with roland actually
this stopped any conversation
i met him by accident in eilat
that place was a laugh..

i think i enjoyed the second time
first loads of day jobs though i
played in the streets..and living with
the russians..

that a blast lily..my immediate neighbor
we never spoke..and the police pulled his hair
and yet not a squeak..a match box of grass cheap
i went to silently get a light..

he did say never run boy..
i thought alright for you
alright,
who was playing late night
in the soft quiet night..

so i was nosy
within the deepest hush
a glass and bottle jungle
impossible this silence

and i could hear him swallow
once the army ran through
i was tucked up in bead reading
by hopeless candle light..

i met roland in the peace cafe
a misnomer if ever there was
he picked me up and tossed me
around..

hey mike we got ****** and under
the landing planes roaring down
aint had hash like that in so many
years..

there was the red lion and at seven
free food and a drink and a movie
i read miguel cervantes..they
play the eye of the tiger later..

then the hard rock cafe with killer
egg and chips
i worked with an architect and made
a few shekals.

vii

i got out of there man i went south
dhab a quiet hut and goats..
that is the life right there..
o the corral beauties..

the stars as glimpsed through the palm..
pretty carpet and soften-songs of balm
brain blown and fly blown
and then back to town..

which came as a shock then
i had a drink and a very nice mention
for the cafe at the bus station..
i salut the the patience of the librarians..

i)

i thought
i sought
to find

a mind
should be
here

somewhere..
no past-
no future-

perhaps
a
n

illusive
elimination
or imitation

even
or odd
but now

anyhow
ah, the
present

was *****..
where
to go?

what to
do
how to

think
how to
be

ego
hello?
dostoyevski

ii)

however
now
i´m far

cleverer
than trevor!
or fyodor

for that matter
or antimatter
an anteater

ah, sausage in
batter..
hark

laughter
to the devil
a daughter

i ought not
to
feel so blue

her eyes
everywhere
do or dare

little nina
orbs shone
like the

sun
silence in
a bun

crossed
and eternal
falling

old and young
beautiful
lost

but round
tossed out
a window

landing on
my
***..

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 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..

i thought i might rap
or some ryhmes
bukowski opened to stadium

s..something from the archives
death or life-my goa trilogy, mayhap..
what happened to my shoes?

the captains shoes..stranded at
king´s cross-shorted in the freeze
and not even a smoke..(poor one..)

it is about and in a fine spring
the all and thing wild flowering
craning their god like seen joy in
ecstasy..

as little birds laugh twittering
a mild breeze everyhow flowing
across and to blue fresh scenes
a love of endless sea..

grief and death banished why
in this holy birth of the legendary
sign of our sweetest beginngs..
sigh the moon and suns to see..