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

it seems so la di da
but a poet is born...

stores cleared out
is it all a matter
of perspective
or shout!

in 1918 millions
dead from flu
after war that
slaughtered

millions..what
a what´s it
is man..?!
i am reading

the stand
by stephen king
i know it´s not
a good idea..

j,vhjmhn

bad gate way

touch me anyway you will
for long i have been dead
to this stinking world
my brain is bread

my heart screams ****
my soul bled
my feet flat
my blood still

my eyes are oily marble
where worms already crawl
wisdom and knowledge
nil

can´t spell
all nothing
nothing all
until

i


upset an oxymoron
of little interest
(not strictly oxymoron
either)

but we do our best..
the sky is falling
like the old nest
pick it up

look through the holes
and wonder of
our lonely existence
in stone..

ii

consider the moss
and the random
beauty of it´s
elegance..

question it´s
practise
and comfort
which is set

in your hand
now
like any
lost crown..

iii

no oxymoron
no doubting
here is love
and here is thin

reason
make up
our minds
in a few sands
here is faith..

the mayor is sat
in the restaurant
with his entourage

discussing the days
latest developments
"the army-

the pied piper
is sitting in the corner
writing postcards-

Hi Ma!
alls well
life is faster-

there are so many people!
I am eating schnitzel..
kicking back

with a cold beer,
see you soon,
lover peter x

-has made little inroad-
pois-
hello!(enters stage right)

ons-
have you tried song,
dance and magic

-who is this?
indeed
tchick!

-have met
with indifference.."
warm moss and

cold stars,eh,guys?!
whats that?
champagne!?

on the way i
tried glacial
waters-

ambrosia?!
word
tchick

can we help you
sir?
(raised hat

mark the suns-
two-toned effect)
and

here is my card
( the pied
piper

all occasions-
exorcism a
speciality..

hamlet bridg
past ye hundt undt
fowl first right..)

in tower hamlyn!
-and what can we
do for you?

au contraire
!
Tis i who may

be of assistance
I have come far-
left all i know

and cherish,
friends,ma,
and my betrothed-

hilda-kiss!
tchick!
(domino night)

i aim to through
ways lost-
to cliche-

and venerable
knowledge´s
right

the healing powers
of art
a loving heart

with music
dance
and flowers

clear the street
of rats!
(though they

can´t help it-
no more then we)
waiter!

i mean, we
spread disease
too-?

with my flute
too trip the
light fantastic..!

waiter
i will play
they will

follow
to the sea
and drown

sadly..
and thus claim
my prize

500 duccats!
go back home
hilda and i

will marry
grow carrots
etc

waiter
show mr piper
the way

out please
i will be
back

for my money
hoonymoon
in-

ibiza!
over his shoulder
jess goes chtick..

vi

at the door
he grips the
waiter

by his offered
paw and then stood
in the centre

of the thorough-fare..
mmm..arms akimbo
he seeks portend-

he is the crow
the scorpion
he is pan

back he twists
over-his head
upside down!

the people of
hamelyn
are appalled-

a small child
cries-
look mummy!

that man´s head
is upside down!
hot pies!

vendors cry!
chess nuts!
(the police

arrive-hello,
and what do
you

think
you re
doing..?)

rising from the dead
he says
ok,folks!

just loosening up?!
the silence
of heaven

broken
by sound
unknown

the pied piper
played
glory´s crown

a perfect
bristled fur
embouchure

a single noted
tear
trickles

down his
downy
beard

the rats
glassy eyed
crowd

move as one
beeeeeep!
the onlookers

frozen
the pp
leaps two

jete
have lost
minds

the rats
follow
closed

behind
they were
leaving

any how..
we have to
all go

the mayor
the waiter
the law

down the street
out of town
to the sea

on his heel
to the brine
and they

go under
and under
until

all drowned
his work done
he walks back

for remuneration
pack his bag
and go home..

vii

the council is
meeting the
notes are read:

the mayor speaks
"regarding the
proposed hotel

the required infra-
structure is
all in place-

new roads
and roundabouts
extra parking

pathways
lighting
and flora

at considerable
cost to the
taxpayer

and environment
so now
we are only

waiting for
the investors
to pull out-

(and we will
all be the
richer for

that-)
(hear!hear!)
regarding

the rats and
their timely
demise-

any comment
from the floor?!
the member for

saxony-east
rises to his feet-
"your honour!?

congratulations
due on his
mastery

command
and strategy
and dominant

execution there
of..
of ridding
us

of the presence
of
the before-

mentioned
rodents
of course

if that bizarre
horse should
show

claiming
rights
to any reward

we hope
he may be
shown

the door
(again)
both

figuratively
and of
course-

literally?!
ha!ha!
hear!hear!

(champagne
and
cigars
­
on me!)...
from the balcony
tchick

bizarre horse
is it
show me

a door
is it
a hush

falls on
the chamber
only

a gentle snore
emanates
from somewhere?

the pied piper
gentle in his
righteous

fury
democracy will
save us!?

is it-
I cleansed the town
of rats

and claim my
500 duccats!
(as is my right)

-did you sign a
contract?
(the cry of

a legal eagle
in flight!)
contract?

no agreement
no disbursement-
bless my britches!

-is there no
honour!?
he turns

to the mayor-
you will not pay?
(you will not pay)

you will pay
you WILL pay
ha

do not make
me
do not make me

do this
what are you going to
do-

bring them back?!
ha
get a job?!

the pied piper
strode
away

an alacrity touched
with terrible
sanity

past the door
with a sardonic
sneer

and once more
into the street
tchick went jess

ominously
the aldermen
followed to see..

how quick our dreams
become nightmares-
a petty betrayal

leads to tragedy
eternal..
woe unto us-

our hearts easily
duped
( a surreptitious noose)

a short rest
a tchick from jess
a loss of innocence

the pied piper
once more
places his pipe

the people abide
to melody
that calls to

the child in them
chilled-through
some-how-still

when the schools
from the bathing pool
(truants-too!)

come the little children
and they´re
dancing and laughing

(the pied piper
smiles the saddest smile
ever)

the people wake
from the dream
(or nightmare)

to see the line
snaking behind
as it shines

as it shimmies
and disappears
in the morning sun..

around the corner
and as one
on they ran

their cries!-
pray fine sir?!
take not

our children?!
stay our life
our reason

we implore
o lord
we beg fortune?!!

but when they
gathered
at the crossroads

there is nothing
gone!
only an unremarkable

mountain
without snow
or cloud

all-gone!
they wait..
for the birds-sing..

waiting around the corner
waiting in the womb
waiting round the bend
waiting to be born

waiting to go to school
waiting to go home
waiting to be you
waiting

to leave school
to get a job
to be old
to love

waiting to get married
waiting for the end
of the month
waiting for a child

waiting for a tooth
waiting for promotion
waiting for something
new -(anything

will do-)a religeon
a new car
some new clubs
a house

waiting for them
to leave
waiting to retire
enjoying retirement

waiting at the
doctors
waiting at the bus
stop
waiting

no
creating
waiting
telephones

waiting
modern man
the leisure
industry
waiting

iii

weakness
loch ness
gone west

are there
aliens
in

our midst
we
monkeys

with
typewriters
wish

were
we
fish

strength
h­eight
width

breath
in
out

time
space
birds

words
why
bother

we are the ones who are impossible
we are the ones who can´ t smile
we are the ones going to hell
on a hand cart with a pretty tale..

ching..!

we are the ones go straight to jail
we are the ones too guilty to tell
we are the ones like an angel fell
should we step on a snail..

crick..!

we are the ones who like the sun sail
down the blue horizon and then swell
with such fear and pain might pale
before the universe to wail..

arhg..!

we are the ones far the wrong way
we are the ones down if up say
we are the ones who
may be many say

hey..!

we are to marry
before we make 60
i figure as good as
a time as any..

dress up in finery
write some poetry
two gold bands
for all eternity..

we shall honeymoon
in the fenlands
see peckham house
stay at my mums house..

we can sell the pots and pans
and we can sell the green bean
always the man must eating..
but the soul like a desert land

need love like the flower rain..

man can make the  telephone
and yet still remain all alone
we are always communicating..
cause the heart like a sad refrain

needs to hold a loving hand..

we are  clever all said and done
silence will testament lone moon
the light of a thousand suns in
the ending:

the last touch of woman and man..

we danced around the may pole
though sometimes it rained
i watched the falling rain
and considered god´s soul..

(ribbons of red white and blue-
though what jingoistic sentiment
had to do with panthiestic beauty
i did not know..)

still,the grace of the little children
something old and something new
sometimes the sun shone
how sweet the circle grew..!

we don´ t like spies
we don´ t like lies
we don´ t like old
steak and kidney pies..

we don´ t like others
talking about themselves
when we want to talk of ourselves..

we don´ t like putting up shelves
we don´ t like insincere ties
we don´ t like elves..

we don´ t like having to
get up on a chilly  winter
morn
and go to work..

we don´ t like bad luck
we don´ t like ****
we don´ t like such an
unfair distribution of wealth..

we don´ t like some poets
lovers with running noses
we didn´ t like the great auk
extinct since the 1840s..

we don´ t like arriving
late for a movie
or the prices they ask
for sweeties..

we don´ t like bitten by
snakes
or marching off to wars
we don´ t like death or
being born..

we don´ t like sand
we don´ t like the sun
we don´ t like the food
why we came i can´ t think..

we don´ t like to complain
we don´ t like haunted lanes
we don´ t enjoy swallowing ink
we don´ t like fawn..

we don´ t think much of a
universe so alone
we can´ t think too much
of a world full of pain..

we don´ t hold the horses
when it comes to drugs
or alcohol..
we don´ t like to make a stink..

we don´ t like being too tall
or too small
too fat or too thin
and so on..

we have jar and jars,
and have no idea,
what is there?

filling in idle moments,
i stand and stare,
brush sundry tears,

far..
(is n´t the heart
fair metaphor?)

i tap it,
and unscrew,
a corroded lid,

sniff and wonder..
once,so new
and loving-

kind of grey,
mad,
and rancid..

we have scorpions
my wield has two eyes
i saw no bee
running my right hand

up the railing and
continues hurting..
the cunning man i am
i urinated on it

and that has stopped
there is some wisdom
in the old ways
***** is a natural

healing..

vi

rainy day scribe
would like to imbibe
sweet long ago youth
to kiss your red mouth
that soured wine
and screamed our
insane face..

i would look into your eyes
and tried not to
think of them
so much for
that no..
but i´ d be gone
it was the ****
and all that colors
when we got effed up
you saved your best insights
for our arguements
you brought me two black
kittens
i put you in bed and fed you
porrige
everyone complained
i went to the occasional party
but prefered the country
we see the cure..

i lived the country
we went to cinema
we saw the piano
you on the bus

me on my bike..
i enjoyed that forrest ride
cool in the morning
and out of the breeze
you with the haarlam gazette..

o twas a cold of a winter so
i might visit my friend fiet
who lived on a house boat
with so many cats and dog
and a chicken and geese..
we would have a cup of t
and looked at her photos..

when the canals froze
when at the sea side
or with a sweet cognac
and a pint of mild
heck my hand throb
and my heart too..

we lived on bean soup
the local vino too
slept on the roof
the whispering surf

and star bright..
by candle light
read the russians..
a motley  crew..

the sky blue
the trees white
busses came
and boats went..

we danced and
did what you do
when young..
what that is..

well that was lunch which
was preoccupied with such
thoughts of the typical poet
eg why does the world want
to cheat me..

what is the point and what
is for tea..my lover´ s eyes are
burnished fields´  of wheat
i thought of love
and lily..

a small blue bowl of vague
reminded of a broken heart
and since stopping smoking
marijuana has my art
suffered unnecessarily..

or is it better some clue
must tell the difference between
the placid and uncontolable rage
the compatability of lasagne and rice
the oxymoron..

the pollution of serviettes..
with our destructive urges
laced with inexplicable
flat cola and
creation..

not unlike hunting for
searching salt to will
made in our own likeness
cold soup to chips
to explain..

what is this thing called man
chapatti and jam..
we have to have to tell
we have to work
and then stack
to clear them..

begin again
the thoughts
of a typical
poet and soooo
end..

we search for inspiration
it lurks in strange places
perched up an agave
maybe,or,

in anger,
or passion,
to understanding
or a lover

who makes you
do weird things..
interpretation
how we see-

sweet memory
hope
home
birds

living by the
waves..