Halton borough council claim I didn't pay to cross the bridge
But I did
William Hill's system crashed
And they were not taking bets
The blood banks after me
But I'm on a platelet embargo
Amazon once again
Have no record of my cargo.

I've given up sarcasm for lent
It's going great.

You literally can't do anything wrong on here
It's like playing the bass.

The happy guitar player
Was excited
Today was his young son's birthday
He presented him
With the beautiful hand crafted six string
His great grandfather had made
That was given to him by his own dad
When he was the same age as the lad was now
"Son" he said "I give you this,as is our family tradition,
that you might bring music and sweet laughter into
the world.It won't make you rich but you will have
the precious asset of creativity,to know you brought
some inner spark from what is you and from whole
cloth cast it into the ether for all to hear.I impart the
same advise my dad gave to me on this day.Never be sharp,
never be flat,always be natural."
The father smiled warmly
And handed the boy the guitar
He carefully took it
Weighed it in his hands
His eyes pouring over every excuisite detail
Even after a hundred and thirteen years
He could detect whiffs of cedar and rosewood
He stood in silence a moment
Then looking up
He met his fathers adoring gaze

He then beat him to death with it
Cut his **** off with the E string
Wrote THE FUTURE IS NOW
In **** blood on the wall
Set fire to the house
And went off to become
An AI software engineer.

I see that big cat food has put out a product recall
it's the modern age
Society will fall
If we allow our pets
To fall into malaise
Of non exposure
Like our peanut disgrace
Once you start down that path
The problem will grow and not shrink
It all written there in the Bible I think
Moses beseeched the lord give my people strength
To cross the dessert and bolster their health
God said cast thy staff down
It turn into a serpent
M took fright
Johviah bade him
Take it by the tail
A staff once again
Took it up
Turned and strode down the hill
Showed the chosen the trick
Then they were all in
For good or for ill.

There's deffo a ghost in this machine
Though maybe not accidental
If you know what I mean
Once you reach an impasse
And press save on your draft
A prompt immediate appears beneath what you craft
The sneaky *******!
What does it say?
It orders
Delete this poem
In gas lighting grey.

Have you looked at yourself
In the mirror lately?
John Berger said you should do it daily
To get a fix on what your becoming
Incremental slide or climb
Isolate from the thrumming
The buzz
The fuzz
The pulsating drone
The distraction
Reminds me of that Orbital tune
With vocals by Oppenheimer himself
Muses on present chronography
And what it means for thee and me
Advises time lapse
Put the clock upon the shelf.

A reverberation not heard
At least not for awhile
Though you never
Sonically perceived it
Deffo made some people smile
Or even reverse snort their cornflakes
In nasal agony
The non reported sound
Makes this gaff more empty
Though a showboat is not off the cards
He could be waiting in the wings
To rush the stage unexpectedly
Rebound the whacky wonderful things.

When the lightning
Strikes the eruption
What is forged in the smoke
Will fall immediate to earth
See it rolling down the *****
Bouncing off of boulders
Striking sparks in the gloom
Creating filaments
Dark gossamer
For the coming terrible loom.

From Cheltenham last week's
*** of gold and of honey
Sharp Willie Mullins
Still counting his money.

When the acid that burns your heart
Ceases to swell and ebbs back
Enough to let you roll onto your side and drift off
The sleep of the just
Is not really it
But you snore and dream
Like you haven't for a bit
The Googly eyed slumber
No longer suppressed
Is now vivid
And scary
And funny
I guess
Alien invasion
Slasher movie
Murderous governance
Brought about by myself
Seems to be the preponderance
While friends and family
Point and laugh
And look on.

The way of life
And executing a Will.

When things are getting
Worse and worser
But like Tony Blair
You can't go in reverse
Then it's time
To contemplate
All that you are
Maybe a handbrake turn
And the future be ******.

If you don't feel hungry
Why eat?
Is that not the essence of defeat?
If You can't export it
Complete
The thing you meant to defeat.

Kick off
All ensues
No one is safe
Final whistle
Violence is
Nobody cares
Patrick Thistle.

I give you permission to despair
Wether left or right
Or just hanging there
One can justify the care
It takes
To really cheer.

I owe a friend
A ton And a half
But he won't
Take a cheque
That *******
Gonna take a cheque

Have you ever been po faced?
I know I have
When presented with ****
From the front or the back
And then realised
You have got your
Nose
To
Close to your
****.

It only takes one *******
To cause a stink
But that's all it is
And that's what the winds for.

My mother is lovely
Let me get that straight
I know there's some people
Who will not relate
The Jimmy W telescope
Has captured some ****
That NASA does not know
What to do with it
Some analists think
It might point to the fact
That our entire universe
Is captured inside of that
Which cannot be possibly real
We inside a black hole
Or that's how it goes
Does that mean we can never be born?

I've had enough
But I won't stop
Till I'm chewing the carpet
That used to be
But times left me
In a state
Of low energy
And ennui
The urge to surge
Now seems absurd
The floor tilts up to put me
Back to bed
To wake restrained
With smoother brain
And pass go again.

The Irish know
A field in England
Will forever be
Not just a corner.

People talk of Dicken's surge
They don't talk
For his
Violent rebirth
He got
Recruited
To a death squad
By the government
Of Franco
Before he
Lead
To a better
Tomorrow.

Why would you not
Believe
The things
I would like you
To perceive?

What does that word mean to you?
If it exists
Which it doesn't
So let's reality eschew
It deffo means somat
To everyone what reads it
Like being in the well
Of the world's biggest cathedral
Lie on the floor and look up
You feel every pound
Of the rock
That was shaped
To make you feel this
And what's wrong wid dat
A nexus built
To make one emote
The thing bigger than you are
What you are
When that is felt
Let us feel it
And then repair
To the bar.

The sun half way this morn
On it's climb to noon's plinth
Causes the tree outside my window
To throw shadows on louvre blinds
Distorted and enlarged
Like one of them
Japanese puppet projection plays
Ominous fat Blue **** hop and swing from branches
Their chirps through the opened pane
Like a demented sweet soundtrack
From an empty orchestra
Now the light
Gets clouded out
The image fades quickly from the slatted screen
And all Blue ****
Are gone from this world.

Like Hunter's nervous recall
But the memories
Fall back
Not rise forth
To the time
When they were
Of course
Not the late sixties
Remembered in 71
But from this very evening
To decades long gone
To a place that was blurry
And hemmed in with fear
No sense of the self
Seemed anywhere near
So with the right set of eyes
You can climb up the hill
And see
The low water mark
Sitting there still.

Fix bayonets
Fray raiments
Make payments
Throw dice
Get poorly
Sing lowly
Suppose
That's not
So nice
Then linger
Dirge singer
Half chips
Half fried rice.

How many moons are there?
Let me count the phases
No two faced duplicity
With this one
Always the same pockmarks displayed
She's got an extensive wardrobe though
A range of colours styles and cuts
Cycling through the fashion seasons
That creation did entrust
There seems more costume changes
Than when I was a kid
Maybe she's just got a better agent
Got to grips with this internet biz.

When Arthur C Clarke
Talked of the ancestor of sadness
It was largely time
That was the prime factor
But in the age
We are in
What is the impactor
As all that is expands

I strongly remember
My first football experience
My uncle Pop kidnapped me
And tried to make me Evertonian
Took me to Goodison
On Boxing Day
1976
That's my memory
It could have been so
My auld fella Lacking
in making me be true
he quickly countered
With my Anfield debut
Gainst Middlesbrogo
With Souness in tow
But all of those could be
Centered in months
And years
Hence
My memory is not
What I used to believe.

I've been watching
Resident Alien lately
That Alan Tudyk
Puts in a hell of a performance
The frisson of the way
He must be
Against the comedy
That the format
Clearly demands
Which creates the rub
In which
Poignancy exists
I get the feeling
It will descend
Into ****.

400 that's more than my dad did
He just did birthday cards.

The boy stood on the burning deck
He looked across the Nile
As the flames licked up his leg
He felt the pharoahs smile.

When your looking at the point of an image
I think they call it the bokeh
How long till your eyes wander round
And settle on the details unfocused
Not quite sharp
Perhaps underexposed
Somewhat in the dark
You don't know why
Your mind fell upon it
But there's sommat there
Though it's clearly not clear
sometimes the background
Is the hot ****.

A triumph in the moonlight
Hackneyed *****
In the cold light
Of this cruel
Saturday

Pick a friend
Any friend
And shuffle em
Into the pack
Could end up in the front
Or way in the back
Might be lost in the middle
Or at any point hence
If your buddy holds the crown
Could you mount a defence
Of him and you
And his family of course
Would you see him on the battlefield
On his big ******* horse
For they say
A fully shuffled deck
Will never be dealt the same twice
So if youre planing a dynasty
Seek different advice.

Friday thinks it's Saturday
Yet that day
Throws its hands in dismay
As it knows it's bound to
Sashay
In to Sunday's
Malaise

Cat food
Is not good for you
Don't eat that ****
Unless you in
Mad Max2.

Just bin to see Fion Regan
Not really listened to his new stuff
But he knew
The audience
Played most if his
Devastating
Debut album
As well as the beauty
Interagnum
Of what
We lack
He been exposed
And written with the best
It's just funny
Catching up
To his behest.
Just simply one o the best.

There's snow on the internet
It's covered it over
The facts can't get out
It's a bit of a palaver
The place where we put all our info is stymied
I wish to learn
But the knowledge defies me
The library's shut
The museum on moritorium
The archives drained
It's like the mid eighties
Under a Tory government.

I heard the first joke discovered
Written on an Sumarian tablet
Involve a dog
Well alright
That's an temporal nexus
The doggie's love
Looking up
If that's what it is
Is grist for poetry
That did always exist
The projection of worth
And innocence
And truth
And belonging
The nature of nurture
For them that weren't
Into parenting
The dog by the way
Walks into a pub
And orders a pint
Of something not too rough.

When you know what you don't
Written in an alien font
There is a way to describe
All that which is known
Unless what you write down
Is like throwing a bone
To the eager dogs
Who've been
Hungering alone.

JFK in 62
Said they would put a man on the moon
And return him safe
Before the decade was through
We choose to go
He said three times
And paused
As the applause declined
Then added
And do the other things
not because they easy
But because they are hard
What would we see on the turn of that card?
What could they be
These difficult things?
Unnamed
Undescribed
New ideas to take wing
To foster global entente
Would be a hell of a trick
Or did he just do it
To measure his ****?

I haven't been employed for awhile
Im a bit fuzzy
My minds turned to mush
Feel somewhat  infantile
No problems to solve
No knobheads to handle
No battles to win
No angles to wangle
Hidden in plain sight
Behind this chain link fence
Nothing to do
Nowt calls me hence
When common care
Causes all to twist and ****
I'll stare at the  wall
While the world is at work.

A male adult owls entire existence
Is given over to
Courting a potential  mate
To wit,to woo.

The name couldn't be less fitting
As I perch here alone
Flat calm
Just past sunset
Glowing embres in the gloam
The low headlands in silhouette
Look like the start of 2001
I Sit here in silence
And wait for the man apes to come.

Everything gets in eventually
Unless you have a supernatural defence
Wether it's the ants or the water
Constant baulwalking makes sense
Sealent shrinks
Rubber perishes
Nowt is water tight
Though when your young you don't think so
Why should you give a *****?
The citadel once proud
In the round
With its bitter moat
Now tumbledown
Half brought to ground
Denuded mortar
All she wrote.

Just watched a ***** in which
A young lady has *** to *** relations
With several young enthusiastic gentlemen
In the back of a 1930's vintage roadster
It was called "******,****** *******."

It's the start of pidgeon mating season
And the boys are getting cocky
Circling each other like
That big Drago and Rocky
I hear them flap and peck
In the ring of green beneath my window
They look so clean and preened
As Into battle
They go
Both stand side on
One facing north
The other south
And flick precision left wings
Into
Chest
And eyes
And mouth
The two I'm watching now
Have near indentical
Neck plumage
I think they might be brothers
The old old story
Fraternal doomage
If these are Christian birds
To the death
They'll fight in front of me
Then follow the command
Layed down in Deuteronomy.