i


a walk about towns
lily be crowned
great godess
to bed airwares on..parenthesis
perchance to dream in
splendour and innocence..
shared the family of man
when more is less..
when we live free of fear
and intimidation
when violence against
women
be uncommon..
we safe in our home
where human rights
exist..
for everyone
where we own
ourselves
body and soul..

ii

a little bird sings
outside her window
through the pale
dawn´ s light..

she says in oblivion
where she does not
know
where there´ s a
way..

iii

where we on a wing
where love the day
where night bring
hope so..

where the moment
the pauses
truth our meditations
and free lost cause

where equalities
where dreams
like sheep count
she smiles..

iv

where concord is
obvious and profound
like the blue bus
lily laughs..exclamation

like a little bird..
tucks her head
turns and goes
on in search

of the right word
the juste mot
where we like ourselves
o she says
the music stopped..

i

*******!-lily broke  a boot
lace..
a newt-like despondent
face

racked to the very
core
she wobbles to the utility
draw-

(first a  **** upon
the mead-)
-batteries,string,
beads


pens and pencils
copper
post card
cassete-the cure

a skewer for
potatoes
egg timer
timeless

plenty of fluff
dust
mastermind
cusses-

ii

the string hangs
in indecision
consider a
bangle

kicked and bangs
the woodwork at
an incongruous
angle

iii

on the table
meanwhile,
her solitary
boot sits
like me-
a hole for a
sole,
hung with a
lost
tongue,
kind of old
and worn
frayed and
torn
but optimistic
like crows
neither black nor
white..
we will wait..

iv

an adagio for string(s)
folded in two
love becomes
one

she looks like cloud(s)
is there enough to
go round?
always..

samuel barber

be a poet or not
do or delete
amount
the same
a hill of beans

plus
or subtract
abstract
a drop in

the ocean
to hung
purple
naked

from
a nearby
pole
dark as a coal

by the moon
upside
down
or a nice

cup of tea
not really
much difference
older one is

ii

why sail it into
an iceburg..
leonardo would
never be allowed
into first class
that kind of spoilt
it..
love may transcend
the class barrier
but not a skanky irish
artist..
still,kate was game..

iii

love will transcend
anything
this is patiently
obvious..

excuse me
this rather bland
observation
and a rather

bad..
i am smashed
excuse me
go at the irish..

gosh.
when it comes
to that..
yes
love will transcend..!

beaten by the machine
my heart wear thin
never fear wise hearts
there is always the sun

before the woman runs home
shouting are you home
before the begun to turn
us..

not before breakfast
but at the split awakening
became a distant end
on the magical bus..

now and then my friend
i played my part i did my
bit
i have learned to cuss..

i

books are much!
long lost
tactile friend

of the mind
and heart-
touch

to thought..
now and then
always

they be
full of
everything!

why
why not
mayhap..

ii

i buy a book at the market
there is much to consider
(in no set
order)

(lily bathes in stilled
cores)
odor
or

art work on the
cover
author

dedication
to lover
marker

a flower
telephone
numbers

some accounts
to daddy
love jimmy

christmas
1955
preface

underlined
die
print

ing
bind
in
­
condition
not in
cost

17 shillings..
by the same
similar

50 cent
lent
library

newmarket
bankok
hostels

bantam
puffin
pengui­n

mm
7 reprints
have i read

these
save
trees

a bar
a beach
strange thread..

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..!

ii


but then i flicked it
off a nearby stick
and danced to some
music
on some skanky
blanket
of grey
and love
thus relieving
the boredom
and stress
fear
etc..
paint and not
there oh therre
so i enjoyed
there and gods
smiled down..

i said to myself again and again
i will never drink again..never..
not now..but until then..
i will have a good time..!

dutch bob would say
alcohol is sneaky
(had i been a bottle of
beer i would have felt guilty..)

he would throw back his
great viking head and sing
tom dooley..early morns-
cognac beer and backgammon..

i loved buk* from the get-go
thank you lizzie from norway
do not lose them *******
you would say..

notes of a ***** old man
and factotem-
i remember them..
through him i liked poetry..

some may say adolescent
but he made so love..
and in post office
when an alsation

smells his ****,
we are all transported
to heaven..!
he threatened his audience..

who the hell is tom jones..

ii

well,lizzie, i lost them..
and losing borrowed books
were we in hell..
i lent them to some one who

swore the same..i hear your laugh!
he had a head on in the dark
he broke his leg and his friend
broke his arm..

the books were gone..
stupid **** you would say
i recall you big honest grin..
you said you liked me..

because i never turned down
a drink..
if this was irony
it was lost on me..lol..

so the books picked up
by some one passing
and loved and cherished
just like i do  you now..

changing lives and growing love..
i thought about you..
when they carried each other
past to the bathroom..

just drunk and fine!
while we looked on
thanks for lending me
them...

iii

lily say something
she is busy reading
the rats by james herbert..

a late sixties horror classic
every one gets it..
the rat is so deep in our pscyche
these one´s are wise

too..dog size..packs..
they have the taste
for human flesh..
it is early days..

it is a secret
a scratch causes
death
within 24 hours..

it is herberts way
this is a real period piece
a simple style
we had a national health

system..last remnents
of a great empire..
a working class
rats..are..eating..people...

in amongst our order
be it puppy baby
school boy
mary..

they are slashing and
pulling cheeks away..
i do skip bits..where

is the wine..

astrix

charles bukowski..

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..

clowns with fake bells
your name
what to tell
a game..

what a ******* hell
no particular aim
say well
the blame

lies well
lame
jester bell
love wains

hate swells
what a dame
he fell..
(fake dumb bells..)

i

coming splintered across the
crossing they compared
telephones and i recalled
how we exchanged
our playing cards..

some were stills from the
b movies popular in the
day others potrayed the
sadistic and others were
popular football players..

i suspect not much has
changed
they made it safetly
across and
a pigeon shat quite near..

ii

i hope i will
die as quietly
as a mouse

all in my still
beady
eyes

my love til
the last thump
of my little

heart and
kind time
be

to sweet whim
wild and loving
as been

and to come
see
and still seeing..

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..

division is the topic
under discussion
one can never
(sic)

be greedy enough
discuss..
(babylon by bus*)
our heart a daisy

one to marvel at
on a busy highway
grown fat and pretty
through the tarmac..

nourished be our root
blue and wise the
firmament
the passing admire

our brief and filled
life of universal love
soon enough time up..!?
sway and dance..!


a great album by bob marley

doctor,as my guitar
will add
melancholia is madness
waiting to occur-
it needs to be snipped
in the bud but
nothing only
may require
a flower might
want water
know what i mean
babbling will not
heal or pills neither
love unrequited
we must pay
or else

doctor,it pays not
to be sensitive
(if we wish to live)
for like the flower
our soul requires
water-like
pills nor  babble
may quibble
nor nothing neither
is love unrequited
or guitar-
where there is
melancholia may
occur
madness or else
pay we must
aint life quaint
hear the neighbours
cry and holler..

do i set store by
more
or is it a closed
door?

is excess a way
to less..
(the stars blow
to bless-)

wisdom or dying
worth
the coin
for birth..?

do you ever look
at your reflection
for the first time
change your mind

a new conception
a song or book
a poem
alone-

by maya angelou
she says,
nobody but..
when i read this

my heart breaks
my testies lift
too  talented
her hard life..


ii

i confess
i stole my copy
to her
a rabbit before
headlights (lol..)

sorry,
forgive me
i love you
would she berate
me..

will you mine
be
did you have money
i could not help
it
i treasure it

i loved your
poems
but i feel guilty
timeless

truths
filler of hearts!
full of wisdom
all love-
all..

mended me
mends me
i have paid
we pay..

i)

do you ever look
at your reflection
for the first time
a song or book

or a poem
or a sign
a triangle
or circling

a lost time
ed
d
eh?

(teachers would ask
s. what are u
?
what can you say

(i hexed their ***
but good)
a frown  grown
like a mushroom!

a reflection
a dark hood
glass
a noose..)

ii)

they say,
the first world war
was the end
of our civilization..

when a whole generation
was slaughtered
followed by a virus
that did for millions

iii)

in the mirror
a day
of unashamed care
will once be us

a clear cool water
will slip by
a sweet prayer
times love

equals
alway
s.
and for

ever
er
r
.