i

you are going to get us
banned,lily
i can see that one coming
they say-they say-

you can see the future?
(i was about to say
kudos to hello poetry
for their tolerance..)

i think it is intuition
she sniffs..
and what may that be?
wait a tic

i will consult the dictionary..
that is spooky erm stuff!?
what about subconscious
manipulation...?

ii

suggestion or coincidence
or just wishful thinking
confusion..

guessing or a superstition
knowing-ancient power
man nature together..

iii

o lily they will burn thee
for a witch
your heart of straw

we itch..
go further-go further
the sparks will fly

the night will howl-
pretty and clever
we see the past..

i

how would you interpret it?
our lives fall apart
through fire or tedium
and the whispering rodent?

that is wisdom..
the answer in our hearts..
love-chips with everything-
forever reoccurring..

ii

dreams are wild-
one day we might record
them..

and then understand
ourselves-
our brains

are unknown
we use ten per cent
then

how can we understand
the other 90..?
lily

iii

turns a page..
bit of a catch 22
i should say..

but they would rather
search space for hardly
nothing..

still,it gives them something to-
do-
we shall all die of bordom

don´t you worry..
what is she reading?
when i was young-

iv

we wrote with pens
of wood
straws of sublime

shadow of victoria
prison or school
window

the playground or
bomb-site
of the ******

we ran around
fighting and trying
to kiss each other..

i

what is of variance
more than a good dance
to express

the same but different
for each one
we worship romance

or wonder our existance!
like fire or fleeting as
a kiss..

ii

the plastic palm trees or the moon
makes no odds
i am blessed and naked

son of man-fred astaire
(one eye on the bouncers)
the precision of time

the dying swan
the celebration of the ****
that meant survival

the safe journey of it´s soul
back to it´s ancestors..
sun´s rise..

i

how does one captivate
by a word, say it-
love or hate
repeated-

a chorus of tat..
the hush of the cider tent..
honest or the mask paint-
a spell hexed..

an observation or thought
some veiled threat or
mystical twaddle-
lily loses it..pressured..

ii

i think i will just
go on and say what-ever
comes to mind..

and should it all go
wrong-and i die..
shrug and say, that is life..

i

the story so far:
grumpy boots-master
and happy his dog-servant

play out their roles..hapless,
before the karma of a blind universe..
saturday, and off to the soul doctor

and after?!an evening of western-
down at the pickled gherkin!
will grumpy find a friend?

will happy follow the dictates
of his nature
lost in the wild

of the primordial night
free of conscience and moral
turpitude?-(read on..)..

ii

q:so,how was the week
a:pretty much the same
q:were you busy-
a:same..made up a poem
q:about-?
a:a door,inspired by a dream..

iii

i dreamt about a door
was i in or out
was my life a jar
of doubt..

at the behest of an un-
caring universe
to fill a gap-a hinge-
a ***-to strange karma

iv

what does it mean
self explanatory themes..
your alienated and hesitant
you are not sure
if you are a door..

and if enterered?
a decision deferred-
what of the future?
what is in store?
just around the corner..

v

do you think of dying?
not so often
all the time or
middling-

i want you to write
a poem -
about death-
mean while..

vi

in the antechamber
happy chews the f out
of the carpet

boredom is worse
he thinks and stifles
a yawn..

i

lily looks up from a page
why do i feel guilt
when i have done nothing..

what is she reading?
in patagonia-
because you are..

by bruce chatwin-
like winnie the poo
and ******

ii

when they pull out
your finger nails your to say ow
not be clever..

witches were clever
or are..
freedom a little shack

by the ocean..
dinosaurs and great open spaces
sailing the albatross..

iii

a certain penguin with
comical name
send out the a team

they make a glittering home
and the rest follow..
they are monogamous

iv

until death..
both raise the chick
in turn

they are generous
they share
there is no blame..

i spent a christmas in berlin
once-it was very nice..
but i have never been so cold and

stayed in some very strange places
and saw some interesting peoples
heard some stories

drank hot co-co and cream!
looked after cats and
had a nice time..

i


introductions can be
awkward-i just fall
supine-

that is backward-happy
to have my belly
scratched..

i want a drink and some-
thing to eat..
men,says edna,

are all alike..
the sun in the dust
is yellow, pink and green..

ii

the place is filled
and dreaming
can it be the same-

johnny crash gets his
order in,
any requests?

fat to thin,
old to young,
ernie wants, the end,

(by the doors)
blown, are the nails
of bordom..

iii

the silver tray will
flash like flowers in
the spectral dawn..

all are welcome!
(less the names of
the banned..

some minor discretion-
a word..
a land of chance..

where the music to
ought may happen
flies on fifths and

discordant ninths..
looks askance-me?
lotus eaters..o..!)

iv

buy a flower?
and put behind your ear,
edna

for we smile and
lean closer
saturday night

we shall dance
and laugh
the world our oyster..

i

i get bored with the clever
(not trevor)
but they whom look down

from no particular height
(i have an opinion
just like them)

i say light
they say dark
reactionary, lily..

ii

me?
not you-
money..

say money..
money..
now live without..

i

would it not be crazy
if we found our own voice
instead of why
we cried because..

happy howls f death-
i am alive..!
grumpy is at the psychiatrist
in the antechamber..

ii

i feel life pointless,doc,
the days pass with relentless
monotony
(not a word i use

lightly)
i have forgot how to smile
the world is crumbling
my only friend is a dog..

iii

i write poetry
this is called a bump on a log-
that is me-useless person number
three-what i say why,
i cry no-i mean no...!

better then red-dead
yeah..do i know-no
but i pretend,
a conundrum-a rhetorical
nowt..

dread and anguish in
my head..
a blemish or less
tiny spot-worse, can
it be worse..yes..super in superfluous..

iv

what ever they pay it is
insuffice and he is out!
the window-past the
gambling dens

and pound shops
past the fast food outlets
past the charity shops
past the telephone

and computer emporium
stops to inspect his ***-
ok..on!
past the pickled gherkin..

lugubrious *** the doorman
smokes a woodbine-hello
hap?!-hi ***!
examines form...

where´s the man?
inspecting his thing-
people..four letters
hap-lost in time?


past some polystyrene
past a puddle
past a moment
past a chip shop

past the sky
past a now
past the cop-shop
past the moon too..

i

i meant to stay a week
23 years ago
i was heading east
sleeping on a strecher so-

such is life..
i kind of found belief
enough just to know
a time of plenty..

i

ok..an intriguing title
for a slim volume-how
did it go-biographical-
neither question but wile-
a tune  that taunts the
periphery..
what you think happy..
(yes,i could get my teeth
into that)..i laid out your
cowboy-suit and gave your
boots a once over with the pledge..
(how many times..)your dinner is
in the micro...

ii

i sent a poem to the new yorker
once..
it was called, love hunger..

now in the mirror-i am joe buck
not much of a cowboy but...

i


and he scampers off
with metaphor and that
about a home he never has

more is less- a birds nest-
o small and sad
trying not to be..

moss and warm
a little eye dreaming of
wild and calm..

i used my music to
quit drinking and depression
when substance abuse is
in your soul..

it takes something to replace
it takes time and understanding
it is a re-assesment and embracing
the reach for perfection..

i

i have a recurring dream
it is infuriating
i thought it had gone
but it returns..

it is best not to dwell
on and on
that only makes it
return..

there are worse things
in the subconscious
dissolution and murdering
someone..

like waking from a
drunk with blood on
one´s hands..
no mind..

ii

i knew a dentist
who did the same
i suppose he is out

by now..
losing your guitar is
small potatoes..

i

i was ****** lily laughs
but why bother i ask you
if not for lot´s of money
and applause..

the green room of god
the creative urge and you
know so effing bored
and look at this-

pip pip another rejection
slip..
not suitable..!?
ha!

(a suitable epitaph..)
they called me
a star..
is a star is a star..

ii

dancing under the stars
i say lord above
out and out
savage loved

once but that
amigos
is enough
la..!

i

so,they walk home
under the loving stars
together and alone
they go-b flat-la..

happy-come!
in time of wars
when hope is done-
for..

ii

over one flaky bridge
past sundry traffic
cones
they hear a swish..


they hold hands
and look up
a silence so palpable..
grumps says

shall we get some chips?
past the garbage truck
happy you stay here
with edna..

what would you like?
a home and family
how many kids?
...and plenty vinegar..

i spoke with some people
i once knew
it was good to do..

we did nt speak then
and had not much to say
but it was nice to hear them..

surprised we had survived..
there was some fear too
what the future will hold..

i

the telephone rings-
four minutes left!
what is your thinking
there is only death!?

-
-i will look into your eyes
forget the dread
and cry-
let us go to our bed..?!

let us hold hands
let us not mourn
let us rejoice
we are re-born..!

ii

the telephone rings..
lily looks bereft-
it´s bad news!
i know it!

i will not..i can´t..!
it is a thing!!
i will-what?!
a premonition..?

four minutes to live!
soon be dead!
(o it was brief..
o boil an egg..)

it is the lsd
lily
i been there
believe me..

iii

at glastonbury-
the telephone rings-
hello..
hello..

evening news-
is that lily the muse
we want to interview you
i am immortal..

good,we´ll send you some questions
and you reply if youre agreeable
with some of your work
should be in the magazine this

week-end-i am god..
ok..then..normal terms apply..
bye
bye..

i am turning into crow
like a jackdaw
i will take your heart

something shining-
through one green eye i
you are mine..

you are my diamond-!
el diablo in desguise
you will recognise..

i

   you touch on the duality
of laughter and tears-even
when you laugh the sadness
does not leave your eyes..

she says, she does not write
pointless-in you there is
hurt that will never be ex-
tinguished..

like a child they were one
but for you nothing..
you will fish
the last thought of dying..

ii

sorry i spoke
sorry i breathed
sorry for sorry..

funny word
repeat it
what you got..

i have a plethora of idea
but i think of my last word
instead and this is or was
blank..or agnosia-

(which is a new one on me)
the strange or unrecognised familliar
when doctor p looks at a glove
and has no ideas as to

what it is..he has become abstract as
a computer..due to a tumour..
so when he mistakes his wife for a hat
and tries to put her head on his head..

he is a muscian,a teacher and a
painter and continued working until
his death..i will not say my life is hard
and try not to complain..

i

she has a stalker?
i don´t know when does
romantic interest become

alighting a passing tree
cawing and writing love
epistles..

for a court to decide?
we live in a litigious society-
half the world is mad

and wants to be called mad
so they can sue..
what to do..

ii

words lily-life
or death
simple or not..

the first put to the sword
and replace by the
same again..

i should say from
the serpent´s way
it was unpreturbed
my hand hurt..

we forgot..
memory only a word
hastens the day
the blank page..

i know what has happened
says god
the past has become

again..
at this rate
soon i will be..

i

what were you doing between
a lion and a camel
just passing time
i had set off for italy..

i worked for some irish
on the black stuff-swinging a
pick..and then i went to
berlin..

ii

thirty years ago lily
where has the time gone
i feel like a different person
soon be ninety..

i feel younger now
then when i was twenty though
then i was all pain
and disdain..

i

at the supermarket they treat me
like a thief yet it is they who
steal from off of me..

(and for so little too)
they have cameras and two way mirrors
and private detectives and yet

they are the thieves..
not just the prices but in
other ways too prosaic to mention..

lily wonders and wonders when
the revolution comes and blood runs
in the gutter..will they remember..

ii

and if i complain they say
something but in their
eyes is hate..

it is 14 cents-yes-but i notice
you never give me too much-now,
i am an anarchist communist  trouble maker

they make millions
why be so petty
don´t understand..

i played some of sor´s pieces
from his opus sixty
they are nice but number 14
had a sharp where with further investigation

turned out to be a natural and for years
i have misplayed..
then i made a spaghetti and wrote two poems
all that remains is the drying up..

i like to be free,
says lily
and dances what she means

like the tears of a clown
when there is no one
full of beans..

i like to be free
she says three
is marvelous

a bowl of glass-
that says-
so long, and thanks for all

the fish..

i

lily, they are going to send a rocket
into space with only women
who will drive and who the map
and who will sit in the back and
russle sweet wrappers and make
innate comment-look at that..

has that always been there..
alpha centauri?kuk big innit..
do tou want a sweet..
yello is my favourie colour..
does this seat go back any
further-i´ll be glad
when we get there-
where´s my hand bag..

ii

my mother and i would
spend hours in our back yard
watching the stars-

greater than silver and gold
but i feel we should leave them
where they are..

i remember you
miriam!
sitting in the angel?!
(what your ambition..?!)

i see you from the corner
of my elgood´s eyes..
making me nervous,
waiting for me to speak,

we could still be their
now..
shrugging and giving up..
walking away..

i see our glorious socialist party
are cutting benefits, lily?
perhaps like the dear days of thatcher
they will make the rich,richer..

i

to give it a full name
all our yesterdays
(or the future game..)

all the same-lugubrious
or happy-
he runs past ernie!

but stops enthralled
young again-a man in
a  hat

of the beige brigade
with the aid of dance
tells a story..

ii

when i was young
i danced alone and now
i dance alone-

the bit between was
fun
an eternity gone

all too soon-
i was a stone
i was a cross

i was water..but
look close do you see
regret?

do you see hate?
(happy leans out..)
wags his tail..

i have lived..
slowly,slowly,
he does the splits..

arms akimbo
defiant and proud
o crescendo...!

i

the futility of it all
says lily-futile-?
the devils,

grandier, as an ambitious
parson
the possesion of a holy order

he, burned and tortured..
(or everyday hysteria?)
in line at dia

ii

her point being
i think modern day
a hell that the inquisition

could only dream..
or no point to be
something..

i

i woke this morning from a
lovely dream-i was young again
and kissing my woman and
we were laughing

and behind us was stacked
shoe boxes full of money..
someone said something and
i awoken..

ii

lily, i have tried to remember,
such a charm,
standing in front of the golden
mask

of tutankhamun..silence
like a sundown desert
reigned but what did i
ask..

i asked,or wished
the beauty and wisdom
for vision and calm
the love of the pyramid..

i like to be free, says lily
my self is mine own
completely and though others

are fine-the sun and moon
so-it is to me, is my first loyalty
o little sisters and brothers..

i

i say to lily
(without the power of speech-)
it is funny
what i think is mediocre

is genius and vice-verse
i intimate my poetry
that is why we share
says she-

that is why we have critics..
it does nt really matter
what of silence
do we feel better?

ii

what is this creation
is it god left over
a thingm-jig of the brain..

is it money or boredom
what is funny?
nothing..

i

do not fear the reaper!peripatetic
we have fame and fortune
on line one-
ask me a question, lily..

ok-wisdom in a matchbox?
ok..
what happens when an unstopable
force hits an immovable object..

ok..
that´s right-something to consider-
on line one
can i play my violin..it´s a poem..
(go on..)

ii

peripatetic-to wander upon
one
to find one

d has come and gone
we will miss him
so grounded in dream..

he said,all is what it seems
love and beauty, a whim-
look and find..

iii

well,this hour has sped
are we not the dead
this is lily saying sayanora-
hope you enjoy as much as

i..
yours forever
cross eyed and painless
over to you steve..
much love and thanks..

i


and finally-what is the
primary objective of the poet?-
to say what they have
to say
and to be read

to change the world for
the better
to earn their daily bread..
to colour..

with their cosmic pencil
not neccessarily true-life
but what might be..
or emptiness´s fill..

despair to love
to hope from nil
and even for the love
of the alien-
to make money..

ii

here we have left space for
some of you poems, lily
something unknown
love you soon..

i am chuffed that you will act with honour
and kindness and i will try to reciprocate..
so  we can be friends..

i

i like that one lily
but it has to blend
with your geraniums
and how to bake the perfect

apple pie -your stars
where to stay in crete
(and it does n´t..)
i stayed in crete-

it was so cheap!
we rented a house-
how many could sleep
in so small a place..?

sleeping on the roof
under the stars
pretty enough?
communal meals..

and to the dance
under the stars
lovely but no
electricity..

ii

they don´t want to hear
about your sordid excesses
bless..

i have to write what i
have to write
there would be no point

in writing about flowers
and lonely hours
and why you left

(that is obvious)
leaving me bereft
i went

because you imbibed
howled and cried
-i am not perfect

but i came back
what is worst-living
with you or with-out..

i don´t know, skin up and
we will consider
bless her..

i

time..i am told we are
opening up the lines
not lying in a hot bath

with a bottle of jack
but the first caller-
we are through..

to the prettiest star!
caw..!
i have a memory-

we lived in a donkey hut
above the bay
sunset and ferry

warm retsina and
musicians and strippers
the village hummed

chilled bums-
panic in detroit
is that you, crow?!

lily,i can read your mind..did you take my underwear..?!
off the line-
click..

a lad insane..
(another poem from me)
for crow..

ii

for whose heart
(as greedy as the guiri)
for my love,
alas, can never be..

i am to myself-first!
(the wing to the sky)
for all that thirst
for reason, why

to they that share
bread and wine
to them that dare
be a future time..