the wild flowers below my window
a purple gown and overgrown
the sky is grey and softly blown-
the birds have taken back

what was always theirs then..
and what we can infer
is when and if and how
the moment a rolling stone..

i


the wild flowers beside-
like yellow eyes
and purple brides
emit cries

with soulful bye-byes
oh shy
time and it´s tides
soon to die

a while to bide
soft sighs
to blind
trumpet cry-

ii

my window show
in a green nest
cacti flowers
are scarlet

and i saw two fat lizards
dandillion breast
dove and swallows
snow north west

small fishing boats
two or less
some freaky cloud
it rained less

then
or than
the sea loud
the breeze chilled..

(when
i won
proud
my will..)

they are a third
apex
tremendous
they..

they are a word
a hex
tremulous
they

are cursed
less
but so much

more
than us
trust

to unity
beauty
and loves..

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
..

this morning he had
taken up an opposite
window

cried if i want
a heart unknown
as my own

and  be
some distant joyful
land

called wild
(even a crispy bit?)
he would not be

tempted..not
an oat-
separated seas


by vast civilization
cry uncle
but in the jungle

he steadfastly
remains
lays tomorrow..

this morning there was
a Kestrel in the agave
it looked in through my
window-
i don´t know why..

but i played it a tune on
my pipe
and then a chord on
the i st third and
fifth..

three blind mice
and an e major
on the guitar..
in semblance
of flamenco music..

ii

this after breakfast
i shared my daily egg
with tom-cat..
whilst reading a note
off a post card-essay-
page 353-the chymical
wedding by lindsay
clarke-from a possible 1264-
an attempt-a trial..

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..

threeminute poem
none of my doing
no sir,just a gadding around
not even

what me
no sir
serious now
why
ah why not
gaolor two to die

in this monsterous
circumstance
smile
dyiing
clap hands noow!

one more minute
love is sweet innit
good bye
be never to see
her eyes of gray..
so..

i)


thunder and washing up
some mundane noises
-god plays with toys

the heat has had enough
of asking why not
it is hot-

the rain falls like a dashed
crystal cup
and has slowed

doors slam and the cat in
the window
washes herself...

ii

-there is more wet
we go
is that it

just like life
o we wait-
expectation be

a cruel mistress!?
the first fleeting
drops

hopes
and
dreams

onto the greasy pave-
ment
of sad senility

wondering
what
happened

left with little
positive way
and cliches..

iii)

though my father
would say to me
you think

life gets better
well it doesn´t..
he was wrong

on three counts-
one,i had no idea
two,i did nt care

and three-
it did..
god bless,dad

it was a realizing
of effort
look at the flowers

growing from
the ****
i tried to suggest

this by patting
his knee
there is rain

and thunders
in the singular
instance of our

existence
pain and washing up
but don´t expect

nothing..
(misquoting an old adage)
only death and taxes

are sure..!

time is very cruel
for when there is only
memories
we have no memory..

it is like a duel
in monty python
my mind disappearing
come back!

come back i yell
i will bite your ***
o i recall
but not feel..

ii



!!i left my banjo
i did not care
how i savoured
el vino

i slept right beside
the sea
in the summer
i remember

the sss
as it swept
the hot night
gentle dawn´s caress..

iii

to the long and exacting
beach road
to cognac coffee and backgammon
i recall a viking mouth open

wake up drinking and laughing
arguing with everyone
scratch and laugh
b is fighting

iii


fit..so i dug holes
it
i
and what-not..

effing bricks
effing and
effing that
ef..

i painted
i panted
o my pants
blue

and white
but kept clear
of cement
r

loved the cement
wagon
and backgammon
i liked diamonds

and rust
bean soup
the bus
and backgammon..

the cinema was some fun
i did the garbage truck
i cleaned the beach
b and i

worked at the museum
there was scant electric
and we slept 25
in the old cobblers house..

i picked tomatoes
and emptied the glasshouses
we treasured
i had some charming land ladies..

who fed and doted upon me
c
with her snowy long braids
she would cry-mikali..

lo there was bean soup
we shared the fire
and she would remember
an old lover..

i studied a single tear
descend her cheek
i had one old room
over the sea..

the bars were open
23 hours a day
bean soup was cheap
good bean soup..

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..

to be a clown
was once a little
boy´s dream-

to fall down
and then rise
with love..

today is a special day
i see an old boat
in need of tlc
at sea and storm..

i saw in a special way
a clapped out tambourine
a sky beyond there-
burnt the book of hate..

i saw your hand in mine
loving til the day we die..
woven in a god like trait
beyond and now happy..

today is to hot too
is too to hot today
to hot is too today
is today too hot to
too is hot today is..

do very much but
do very but much
much but very do
much very do but..

get a beer
a beer get
beer a get

and chill
chill and

well..
.

;

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

today we dress as cowboys
and the ladies look charming
but still is there justice
you are asking..

well,arn´t you the party poopers
up there is the moon
blow it  a kiss
and down babylon..!

ii

do i sneak around and steal
from you
no..

do i sneak around and spy
on you
no

so what do i want..
you ask of me
i don´t know..


iii

well lily i think
that is just you
being paranoid
hell is this that
kind of world..
you scary cat
steal from you
spy on you
a kafka void
we must look
to what we
know as true..

iv

well i am not
here to hold
your
******* hand
i thought you

were..
no, this is war-
long periods
of boredom

interspersed
with inexplicable
fear and
emotion turned  

on a sixpence..
we can´ t be
together and
we can´ t be alone..

that´ s true
so,we drink
smoke marijuana
and have ***..

isn´t war hell..?

tommy is
bad
the red
****** up

he rubs
ahind
a hot fish
even spell

pup
cup
in
wicked
wick

well
hell
fell
love

out upon
the spike
like
gone

she go
she went
another
town

another
cosmos
friday
o grog..

to my friends!
i am your friend!-
when i write
i think of your light

when i play guitar
it is to your star..
in the shower
and during a light

shower..
sometimes a minute
sometimes an hour
to your health!

and to your families
health!
the world is strange
and wonderful

nothing is all
we make of it
our self
and we are..!

i

too hot
oto oht
oot tho..!

not to..
nto ot..?
ton o..

to do
ot od
ot od...

owt..
tow
wot..!?

ii

burning illusion
(not cars houses
and so on..)

a heat of vision
take the floor now
root man..

truth song
seared at core
end to want

and poverty
then-
too hot..!

iii

touch me  anyway you can
for i am a mystical man
and i shall return then
your sweet caressing

ten time
who knows time
ah,shall you live
the moment
my  sweet harlot

beauty ******
sweet eternal
and together
ride universal

sweet lover..

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..!

i


Two cats fight
at the door
we wear night
if any law

might apply
then or was
it  has
laughed

swung away
on some wicked
lonesome
tree

like a lost
tense
we menace
ourselves

**
hot
the
knife

to
our
own
throats!

ii

and I
try to write
a biography
but it is too painful

for me
m
and i
can not write

anyhow
it´s in
my brain
now

and if the
past is any
thing to go by
it is ´nt


apparently
so why bother
but as i say
it´s in my brain

and it will be true
never mind effing
slander
o my pain

fait accompli
for hate
for love for
money

it will be true
distain
clever dickey
the truth!

let us hear
be seared
struth!
warts

cold heart
burned soul
and all!

ii

(well no
spoilers)


iii

cast a spell
a tight
little circle-
a pearl!

in their
soul-
like a weight
of gold

a wee
that folds
rot away
in sweetest

bile!
why,
heart cold
burned soul

which held
forth
what harm
what harm

the loved
pearls
dissolved
it howls

to me
and it whispers
(to you)
endless

ly
they are
what will be
merciless

ly
no pity
caress
melting

less and less
and where our
poor
sanity

some tiny
measure
reversing
a half life

dying
round
and round
and roundy..!!

two minute poem

no eggs darling
no nothing
no space
no cake

no nothing
said that
no no
ah..just you
and nonoe
but me..

om..
one more
am..
she
we
gone
bye!

i

two tone!
owt note
love lily
was it

sanity
it was
when
i was twenty..

ii

i enjoyed the raucous
beat
and wondered
such depression

iii

eat
and drink
paint
flicked it

made a curtain
or a portal
into the next
world

became a vegetarian
i have a regret
but ****
unfurls

as they say
was crazy
on occasion
lsd was not

for me..it all seems
so right
if
he had not

i would not
a chain of events
only to end
rather obviously

how
the dawns early light
and claudia
s. saved my stupid

head and i had
wild breakdowns
yet it was good
the bulb factory

see lovely haarlam
and the dam
frite and cheese souffle
fishing

and the spring
mad colour
most time on
a bicycle

ever
i would
go
see

fiet
in her small
house boat
she had

3O some cats
1 chicken
so many books
a cirtoen

yellow
and happy
she said
i was once

a lady
and give
me tea
of a winters

morn
the cold calm
the frozen canals
iced balm

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