I'll see you there.

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.

The Captain's ball
The Trophy5
The spheres of childhood
Now not alive
It isn't wise
Not at this juncture
To mount space hoppers
That have slow punctures.

I dreamed a dream
And you were there
With perfect knockers
And tousled hair
Laughter like music
A scream serene
It seemed impossible
I dreamed a dream

I've always been prone
To stubbing a toe
My mother
Chastised me
When I was down low
Close to the floor
And the obstacles there
Seemingly volleying
Solid objects without a care
You'd think it'd be easy
On my shallow eclipticacal plain
To avoid maternal exasperation
And young digital pain

But I've always done it

Though in adolescence
And first adulthood
The occurrences dropped
Gyroscope tuned
Balance now understood

As the years curved away
The habit came back
Micro reactions
Now starting to lack

The leverage and mass
Certainly don't help
After the impact
The pathetic yelp
The delay between
Whack and sensation
Has always confused me
Defied explanation
Similar to getting
Hoofed in the spuds
Two seconds to grace
Then the ache comes in floods
I reckon it happens now
About once a week
Hopping then paralysed
As my faculties leak.

I remember love but not how it feels
like deoiled orange peel
Dry rigid and shrunk
Just starting to think of that
Makes me want to get drunk
But I'm haf ****** already
So that's that debunked.

Stolen ponies found abandoned
Clearly far too much to handle
For the fool who thought it wise
To take this horseflesh as his prize
Perhaps a blind impulse rob
Maybe a drunken bet gone wrong
But when resason or sobriety hit
He let them loose
And did a flit.

Never mind
Never mind the *******
*******!

A system that bends the truth
As well as the lies
Would provide
Quicker communion
On which
Most rely
But we can't do it
Like interstellar travel
So it's increasing
Space junk
As capacity
Unravels.

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.

Keep swiggin that *****
Keep smokin them tabs
**** down deep on them viruses
What get released from them labs
Waft them air fresheners
Modify your food
Keep taking them
Sweet sweet pills
What enhance your mood
E numbers Are the tops
Fresh fruit gets a sprey
Some say they've done something
That has turned the frogs gay
Make sure you sit still
Make sure you char your toast
Let's do the cancer enhancer baby
Yeah we dig it the most.

Where does a joke come from?
Oooh now that's a good question
Some people talk of a need
To describe some modern obsession
Forgetting the fact
That the gags we now guffaw at
Are age old weathered
Pieces of
Granite.

Gambling fallacy
Has been made quite clear to me
Quit while you behind.

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.

Now that we have
The papacy
Let us enjoy it
The need
Back then
There was no need
To alloy it
Like the poisoning
A century before
There was no chance
To ignore it
But it was business
As usual
Through the Pomp
Through the  ****
Too big to fail
Too fat to quit.

Are you
A Lover?
A fighter?
A drinker?
A dancer?
Which one these are you?
I said
A lover
A fighter
A drinker
A dancer
Tell me what  you like to do
Do you
Smootch?
Punch?
Swig?
Or boogaloo?

Some sadness
Can't be burnt away
You'd get asbestosis
From the smoulder
You've got to wait
For brittleness
It's chips away
As you get older.

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 ****.

Wence does it come?
Where doth it go?

Round the corner?!
I don't know!

When you move in together
You both bring all your ****
And nobody wants
To surrender not even
Just a bit
So you double up on lamps
And stereos and mugs
But the worst offender Is cutlery
Those stainless steel thugs
And the worst o the worst
Is of course the spoon
Cos there's Several sizes
Applications and soon
When combined together
Both hers and yours
They take up the full drawer
A redundancy of course
And  when youse part
As is written in the runes
She'll leave the ******* with you
Cos
Women
Have
No
Interest
In
Spoons.

I could care less
Scream the Americans
On both sides
Of the divide
But that don't
Make no sense
If you could care less
You care the most
That's possible
In this life.

I'm told I didn't cry when I was born
The midwife had to give me a whack
While both ****** and Stalin
Screamed the house down
I hope there's something in that.

I'd know you in the dark
Because I've known you for so long
I know your form and breath my love
Yes I'd know you in the dark

Buy land said the man
For god's not making anymore
Well what about volcanos you *****?
What of the Galapogos?

Run to the hills
Step off of that grid
Jump from this pan my friend
Before they bring down the lid

I've seen you through the dark
Through gloomy prom and park
But I've seen you burst through that murk
And start singing like a lark
Singing like the lark
The sweet silver song of the lark
In a golden sky
Could you hold your head up high?

It's Easter
It's gone
Like the promise
That Christmas purloins
The thought of how we might treat ourselves
No point to aim at
So to hell with the meanings
Back to the pavement
That stops us believing .

2014 was a **** o a year
Her closest to me was riddled with fear
You know your classic
Slough of despond
A long dark crushing passage
I did not know how to respond

Then in June my dad got sick
an unholy malaise
Saw him on Father's Day
Looked like he'd been dead
For three days

We got the diagnosis the week after
They didn't hold out much hope
To avoid the disaster
See the cancer made his bones leak calcium
So they couldn't treat it
Harsh reactions
Would make the chemo **** him

So they pumped him full of saline
To flush the chalk away
It made parts o his body
Bloat and swell and sway
My mother said
His ***** had never looked so big
Nearly choked upon my laughter
It was a gag that I could dig

The thing then metastasized
And that was just about it
On September the 19th
His light got unlit

A week or two later
Our kid's girl
Found out she was pregnant
Just coincidence
Or the irony of heaven
And so nine short months later
Emily popped into the world
Red headed loud and beautiful
Like some  miracle occurred

So as you step into your life
You ginger tornado
You'll never know how much
Jimmy would have loved you.

It's the Badminton horse trials today
Seems an exercise in futility
How are they going to
Toss up the shuttlecock?

The elephants graveyard
Used to be underwater
So there be whales there
A necropolis like no other
And when the seas rise again
And cover it over
Might be
An amalgamation
Of one with the other.

The feeling
You don't generally feel
The nature of connection
That gets pushed
To the keel
Them that you couldn't
Talk about
That love is the greatest
With that there's
No doubt.

When the good lord
Came up with fruit
He made it a bit of a test
The type that benefit
And the poisonous rest

Made us filter out the lethal
And the ones that made us sick
But once we did
We were grateful
And knew with which to stick

The colours
And the textures
The sweetness
Almost holy
The creator
Chuckled
To himself
Wait till they invent
Smoothies.

Slayer
Out the big four wallet
That's the one I am missing
At the time that was ok
Through the thrash metal *******
Megadeth just once
At Donnington
The kings Metallica
There in 87
Then 91
And then Black Album
And Anthrax of course
The New York pranksters
Saw em twice
In two very different circumstances
Like the metal lickers in 87
On just before em
Then the next year
In my home town
With so little decorum
The ******
In the pool
At the Royal Court
Some ******* broke
Into their bus
With only one thought
To rob guitars
And though they showed little fuss
You could tell they were ******
They played less than an hour
And they haven't been back since.

It's all quite the lark
At the moment
For the aftermath
Of a plane crash
This island is beautiful
And the weather is clement
There's Brocken trees everywhere
We have the means to make fire
An abundance of edible fruit

Only six passengers booked
On an airliner made for hundreds
Little bags of nuts
And whisky miniatures galore
Though we've powered through em
Ravening greedy ******

But there are few animals
And we cannot hunt
When winter rolls round
And the fruit is gone
We'll see a different front

And so I see the laughing faces
Over the signal fire
A demented form of joy
The appearance of a pyre
As the last of the ***** gets drained
Lost spirits once again raised
I thank god I grabbed that machete
And wonder if humans
Are better fried or braised

"I don't care if it rains or freezes
Long as I got this plastic Jesus
Sitting on the dashboard of my car
Comes in colours pink and pleasant
Glows in the dark cos
He's irridescent
Take him with you when you travel far

Get yourself a sweet Madonna
Dressed in rhinestones
Sitting on
A pedestal of abalone shell
Goin ninety
I ain't scary
Cos I got the ****** Mary
Assuring me
That I wont go to Hell

Get yoursef a sweet madonna
Dressed in rhinestones
Sitting on
A pedestal of abalone Shelley
GOING NINETY
I AINT SCARY
COS I GOT THE ****** MARY
ASSURING ME
THAT I WONT GO TO HELL."

God lord them ******* can sing!

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.

Well no one really
It seemed like you was like
Really needing
Someone to **** with
And **** on your dreams
Cos me myself I've
Done ***** all with my life
You seemed in need
Of a conversational spike.

Are you the author of your own thoughts?


Of course I am I retort


Are you sure they don't come from somewhere else?


Your seriously messing with my mental health


Why would that be I'm just asking questions?


Your saying my essence comes from another dimension


No I'm not I just really want to know
From which is the point from where ourselves grow.

The static is somewhat harsh today
Harmonised with the strip light abuzzing
Went to see a genius last night
The crowd
Silent and loving
One man
A Telecaster
And a hi hat
That was all it took
To hush a sold out drunken throng
New stuff
But hits not overlooked
Codeine and hash for my gimpy hip
***** for the way it feels
Still
***** Bill Callahan
Still brought me to my knees.

Caitlin Rose
Caitlin Rose
Why she Caitlins
No one knows.

The most delicate sleep
Brings brutalist dreams
When you leave the herb alone
At least that's how it seems

Take your time
But know
The point of
It's too late
Or not
You know?
The other way round
In desperation
And filth
It shall be found
At any time
And in any place
In the jolly old town.

When you see a friend you haven't seen for awhile
His wife is out
And his kids gone hyper style
They won't be back till
The morning climbs over the miles
That you recount
With ***** and remicicile
Style o talk
Of what you used to be
And how it's funny
That now
You both struggle to ***.

Klopp out,Slot in.Title won.

It was a good day
Yesterday
But a bit **** the day after
On the see saw
You face
A fuzzy opponent
He insights
Both
Fear and laughter.

When you cough
And you feel
Your vertebrae
Crumble
Maybe it's time to get
A little bit humble
When your skelington
Creeks and refuses your claim
It might be time
To live a life of the brain.

I remember the black and white eighties
When the people owned their shops
Not just the proprietors
But those around who flocked
For communion
And connection
On a Saturday afternoon
Wether marital arts
Or comics
Music
Clobber
Video games in smokey gloom
Chapter one and Ogre books
Backtracks and Probe
The leather shop and flip
Down a pasty for fuel
It was always grey and overcast
Rain off cobbles danced
Outside of short lived record shops
The mood only enhanced
The breakdancers with their Lino
The suedeheads and the goths
Sick Thrashers and glam posers
Sitting off and taking stock
Uneasy tribes would gather
From both near and far
Then up the hill to Shaolin World
To buy a throwing star.

Save your poison
Save you sweet,sweet juice
Cos there's a plague acomin'
Gigantic rats are
On the loose
Tell me where you got it
Tell me where the juice comes from
Because I'm in desperate
Need of some
Big hairy *******
Are at my door.

Hold your water
Better hold it better keep it fast
Solid,steam or liquid
Now that currency is past
What do you call it?
What is this H twenty stuff?
That's how the boss man couched it
And that's the truth
You couldn't make it up.

My feet are sweating
And my brow is cold
It's all topsy turvy now
I can't remember
When I got this old
And everybody's at it
It's become much more than a fad
Your brother always drank too much
I think he did it because he was sad.

You've got to.......
Who knows what you've got to do?
You've got to.......
Avoid the follow through.

Crazy Vinny don't like you describing what's at his back
But In front or behind him
jokes about mothers please do not Crack
The man has his own code
and despite what ****** allude
My mate crazy Vinny
Is neither ignorant nor rude.

The bells the bells!
They made me deaf
They also made me blind
But I was ok in the morning
Cheap ******* Scotch
That isn't really that cheap.

There's a rare aroma
If you think you've got the nose
So High and subtle
To not many exposed
It's the fragrance
Released by grass
Just before it gets mowed
Washed with notes of
Acceptance and Terror
It knows it part
You might suppose.

It's that 9/11 weather this morning
The pilots call it Severe clear
I know it's crass to bring it up
Maybe it's the time of year
Pretty close to a temporal antipode
Of that Day that brought such fear

The  contrails so bright and straight
Against the brunch aquamarine
Like determined daytime meteors
Their surety seems obscene

In no mood for delay
They push past the cold thin air
To be fast and true and punctual
Remains their only care

And then the Sky Beluga
As if to a call responded
That bulbous headed carrier plane
The Airbus A300
Swims low and slowly overhead
It almost looks in pain
To deliver parts to the airbase
So we can start again.