around midnight pools
   ancients gazed
          past the flickering,
                 fleeting present
                         peered incredulously
                                                   into the future
                                                    ………..and marveled
                                                                             at our ineptitude

........have you been taking your PILLS?"
said the DOCTOR
"are you *******?"
said the PATIENT

are you checking your *****?"
said the DOCTOR
"I don't think this is right"
said the PATIENT

"you volunteered to see me"
said the DOKTOR
"can I volunteer not to see you?
said the PATIENT

"I'm sending you to see a specialist"
said the DOCTOR
"I don't want to be on any kind of list"
said the PATIENT

"I think you're depressed"
said the DOCTOR
"I think you'd better get dressed"
said the PATIENT

"I'm supposed to say that"
said the DOCTOR
"just a bit of role-play"
said the PATIENT

same time next week?"
said the DOCTOR
"if you think it will help?"
said the patient

my love and i go dancing
dancing in the rain
around the bells of midnight
we gamble with our pain

my love and  i go dancing
dancing in the rain
amongst the dew of isis
we bed down with the grain

yes my love and i go dancing
every now and then
around the bells of midnight
the rooster and his hen

well we dance the dance of ages
we circle round the stones
we rhyme the world to reason
and catch the first bus home

yes my love and i go dancing
through the cities late at night
we dance the dance of destiny
till the early morning light

and when we've danced our two-step
we huddle in the rain
we gamble with our heartache
and then we dance again

yes my love and i go dancing
through rivers seas and clouds
we kick the mule of reason
in our tie-dye funeral shrouds

yes my love and i go dancing
every now and then
around the bells of midnight
the rooster and his hen

"Chooze now!.." she said in a tone that left no doubt she meant business
"Would you prefer to be scared to death or bored to death?"
A wave of panic swamped my brain as I realised
being bored to death was the scariest thing I had ever contemplated
and being scared was about the most boring thing I could imagine

"infurra penny infurra pound" sez I,
as I tickle the clutch and hug the camber……….
the GS responds with her usual throaty grunt and wiggles her tailfeathers as I rattle the cats eyes-.
The soft-bodied moths bounce off my cheeks as I hit the ****-switch and all becomes bible-black
The bike leaves the descriptive part of the ****-backed bridge and I wait for touch-down…..

I wait……….

I continue to wait………….

All is still….. somewhere far off a badger is trying to dislodge a pistachio shell from one of  his nostrils by employing a series of short sneezes that sound like someone scratching vinyl…

still I wait……………….

And wait………….

The badger has resorted to cross-fading and a slight reverb but to no avail.

Time passes ……..

"Chooze now!.."
"a shooting star or a star gazer?"

the pistachio is evacuated with a satisfying "plop"
and the ground rushes up to meet the rubber………….
……………….and misses by fourteen and a half  feet.

I wait…………..

And wait…………

Starfish we were, and golden eyed
Strings of memory, before ever we cried
Starfish we were, two snakes entwined
Coded language, divinity enshrined.

Starfish we were, Five pointed stars
from the heart of the apple, Venus and Mars
starfish we were, all connected together
fractals reduced to the vein of a feather

starfish we were, from our toes to our hands
our DNA helix in the quartz of the sands
from mountain to sea-bed and up to the stars
the heart of our matter, of how we’ve come far

starfish we were, there’s no going back
what we desire, is not what we lack
starfish we were and golden eyed
coded language, divinity enshrined

There's nowt round here but wasted opportunities,
two or more pushchairs constitutes community,
"no-one smiles", the badge of indignity,
the most used queue is the one for electricity
                                                             TOKENS
                   high-rise tenement heart-broken,
                       yearns for pleasure unspoken,
               Daydream Tee-Vee
                            comfy setee
                                  casualty
         accident & emergency
........SOCIAL CLUB...
..down the "RUB-A-DUB"
DUB AN' BASS                 Time and place
vanish without trace          in the land of the briefcase
no jobs at the coalface       no room in the rat-race
selling jesus on a pillowcase
while your soul falls from grace
your light vanishes without trace
your brain starts to think............

poetry can be really depressing
especially when you're dressing
to go out to dinner
and wishing you were thinner
and wanting to be a winner
so we can have more losers
more unfulfilled consumers
the last thing you want
is a SACRED CLOWN
making you frown
bringing you down
bringing you round
with the sound
of your round
and round
the Mulberry Bush!!!

Paper money from the bark
"in god we trust", quite frank
promises the bank
of pyramids
the bank of semi-solid
promises
to the bearer
What could be fairer?
Are you a sharer?
or a failure........
to understand
the Promised Land
was always in our hands
till you took it from our care
and made us unaware
that we even owned a share
of this earthly paradise
as you rented us a slice
and told us we were mice
well! isn't that nice
to be getting advice
from the ministry of price
to suit all pockets
invested in rockets
cash crops for guns
fast food in a bun
truth on the run
beg for the crumbs
from the Vampires
from the Vulture
who design your
FUTURE
then  sell you "here and now"
on an installment plan
with a final demand
for more prompt payments
for the balance outstanding
bailiffs impending
more paper lending
PROMISES THE BEARER
there could be quarer
times than this
hit and miss
jug-o-****
just round the corner
of a windswept
tenement block
could be molten rock
or some ****-stars ****
selling you a crock
of something less
than wholesome
of something less
than Freedom
Of a product called
EMOTION-INNA-LOTION
MAJIK-POTION-PROMOTION
BRAND-LOYAL-DEV­OTION
with nothing to pay
while the tides at bay
BANISHES GREY
and gets in the corners
where others cant reach
on a "holiday-brochure-beach"
with your elektronik LEASH
BLOWIN' IN THE WIND
like a flag of BELIEF
vanity steals your beauty
like a THIEF
there’s no let up
no RELIEF
JUST TASTE SENSATIONS
AND SPARKLING TEETH
0% FINANCE
and 100% GRIEF

( this work is livicated to the six children who will die
in the so-called "third-world in the time it takes to read it)

Drip, drip, drip says the stand-pipe
in the shanty town
as the young mothers gather round
plastic containers on the ground
listening to the drip, drip, drip
of life ebbing away

the riverbeds have all dried up
the wells are mineshafts to the past
the irrigation channels of their *******
are polluted now by the Cuckoo's Nest

the powdered-milk...the dust-bowl fields
the quotas met......the land reveals
the hand that rocks this cradle
is the one who lays the table
with "third-world" debt their able
to rob and **** and disable

as the dehydrated bodies blow away like ashes
the multi-national faschists........
        with vampire banks decashes
the breast-milk of the masses
witha ****** drip, drip, drip

from the ******* of the mothers
the corporations smother....
      the babies in their sleep
the cuckoo comes as a thief
with a free sample and a brief
case full of deceipt............

may I make a suggestion?
"ASK SOME QUESTIONS"

As you eat your chocolate
and drink your coffee
and smear ice-cream on your lovers body
and NESTLE down to the land of noddy
to dream of countless trucks and lorries
ferrying the cow-juice and the slurry
burning the forests in such a hurry

more cattle and cash and burn and $lash
leaves a gaping ****
in the dried-up flesh of Mother Earth
and 4000 babies every year
yes 4000 babies every year
return to the DUST....
BOWL..............BREAKFAST BOWL
CEREAL BOWL..........SERIAL KRIME
CORN and MILK spells CORPORATE CRIME
dished up for your childrens belly
in front of telly-tubby tellies





Chocolate bars and candy treats
robbed from the swollen teats
of mutated udders
whilst the cow's baby brothers
are herded into crates
and served on rich mens plates
the mothers stand and wait
and listen to the rate
        of the DRIP
                 DRIP
                  DRIP
of spilt milk down the drain
the governments explain
and bury their shame
under mountains of grain
and excess champagne

and if you BEG
you get Easter eggs instead
served up by the "head"
whose saviour bled
with a steady DRIP
                  DRIP
                  DRIP

and I scream and jelly
and biscuits and cakes
make bovine mistakes
and cheesy diseases
from the milk that turns sour
reminds us every hour
of this KATTLE KULTURE HERESY
of babies dying constantly
with a DRIP
         DRIP
         DRIP