If you break your spuds
After the boil
Before the roast
Just a bit
With the back of a spoon
They will take on
A hidden flavour
More than
Salt
Oil
And vinegar can bloom
Soaking
And grinding in
With steam as an ally
Fluffing carbohydrates
I'll turn up the heat
Shall I?

The burn
Which won't stop learning
The immovable thing
That is easily turning
Straight to which
There is a yearning
For that you cannot have

But then again
Where would you put it?
The storage space
You can't afford it
So it lays just where you dropped it
Until
It gets ripped off.

Television
First bastion of the po faced ******
So the masses could see the visage close enough
Since out evolved by the magic box
Now we all can get into this stuff.

When someone looked at you
And was compelled to smile
When the journey was blissful
Neither counted the miles
With warmth without edge
And peace within reach
When puppies gambolled  
At your feet On the beach
When you returned home
To comfort and food
When you fed off of each other
When connectivity accrued
When you both were anchored
Moored solid in love
When it would last forever
Decreed from above.

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.

I feel sorry for the intolerant
For peanuts taste just great
They've got that indefinable
Extra layer of taste
Especially when they alter them
Salt and vinegar
Sweet chilli
Barbecue
Come on get em down your neck
What's the matter with you?

The Holy Mountain
Had Christs for sale
The road to perdition
Had a basket of ****** Mary's
Blackadder sold fake holy relics
Telly and movies
Have a pretty dim view
Of the church's
Financial activities.

Why was Scrooge so god ****** special?
Where was Jacob's chance at heaven?

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.

I knew a man called trvevour
Way back then through the mist
I know
yet it's so hard to convince
The people who say that
Trevour exists
Is a complete fantasy
My *******
They twist

Llandudno is one **** town
Everyone I've talked to
Felt the need to throw it
Down.

How much of us has gone into the planet?
And what does us mean?
When did we become a family?
Even before that point
They were fertilising
For millions of years
Mushed into the earth
Gratefully received
We started out doing the same
Until recently
With this sewerage game
Of course since then
We've pumped out
Some different ****
That goes down and up
Us mixed with chemical grit
Can Gia deal with that?
Long term?
The debate we get into
But like in the Middle Ages
That crap goes out the window.

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.

New sources say she put JFK to shame.

So fat he's never been cold
Killed young a story unlived and untold
The one chosen
Who refused to come
The stout protector
Takes to his heels and runs
The promise of peace and agriculture
Transmuted
Into technologies cluster
That ******
Any chance of the self
Persisting
All alone
In it's own good health.

Too young for the first
Too old for the second
Quite the fine timing
When all is reckoned
He could have been one of the 20 percent
Destroyed at the Somme
Their flags and their bodies
Horribly rent
Or shredded with schrapnel
On Omaha beach
French liberation for them
Just beyond reach
Instead he was a docker
And fathered eight kids
Imagine the population difference
In this fair land
If Arch Duke Frankie
Had not got whacked
By the Gavrillo and the Black Hand
But the war machine rolled
And the tales all got told.
My lucky grandad
With his dockers hook
Stands and stares at the future
From the Liverpool Dock.

Off to see me Ma
She doesent live too far
Just round the corner
Up the hill
To carry flowers
And good will
She might take a glass of rose
Mixed with Lemmo

But that's her limit!

And then she'll go
To my sisters
For her dinner
Avoid the reflux
She's a winner.

80 and still kicking ****.

Who knows what went where
And indeed
Why anyone
Should care
But then again
Look over there
While I remove
Myself from here.

My girl thought
We had an infestation
Cos she saw the odd earwig
But then she slung her hook
And I haven't seen one since.

Never turn your back on love
The ******'s just not to be trusted.

My mother tells me from an early age
I always loved old movies
I'd scoot my nappied **** across the carpet
Causing sparks
To see film noir intriguey(sic)
Kind hearts and coronets
Jimmy Cagney
The scarlet pimpernel
The red shoes and her descent into hell
On late Saturday afternoon.

To my drunken friend in Bristol
He's not from there
He just is there quite a lot
It's a good place to dash off
His kindly ****** up plots
To aid charity
And bonhomie
Inspiring tired artists
To create stories
Dripping with catharsis
That only comes
From real love.

I think you know
What that is
So why would
You go into?

What
You assume
Is the thing
That releases
The new you


Where we would go?
But then again
You presume
Just what we know
The ******
Of course
Is the thing
That is exactly
What we do


Then you know
Just what you are
And the **** we got into
Hardly the best
Of what we care about
Is this thing
That makes you
You?

How many frying pans will you buy and throw out?
Especially now they are worth a ****
I've had two in the last eighteen months
My own fault remorse
Short sighted reasoning
Is par for the course
To bite the bullet and go long
Has you singing
An environmentalist song.

Things fall off
Cos things get loose
I've lost my screwdriver
I know that's no excuse
You can feel the vibration
Before you hear the sound
Once the bolt hits the floor it can never be found.
Rattling
Shattering
You stupid *******.

Poly tunnel kingdoms
In uneasy truce
Glower across the divide
First hovering kestrel
Then circling crow
Waiting for something
To die

The earthworms are frightened
The hares on the run
Avoiding beak and claw
Hemmed in by the tarmac
And rumbling doom
Breaking all natural law

The badgers are lucky
At night they are free
To cross with out
Auto harassing
And think themselves god's
Immune to all death
Till the farmer
Gives them a gassing.

This time it's Ecumenical!
Especially if you include the pagans
All rolled together
Ritual,food and offerings
To both the Carpenter
And Goddess Eostre
That what was Ceasre's
Could have been laid before her
Fresh Cherry Blossom
Swirls down on to rotting Magnolia
And it's only Holy Tuesday.

Humanity's an improbably steep
And multidimensional hill
To accommodate
All routes
A holy mountain
If you will
Though wether roped
Or solo it's a free for all
To
Scale
Freeze
Dangle
Or fall

But there's room up there still
If you fancy a climb
Cos most of us
Are sunbathing
In meadows sublime
Through opera glasses
Peering up transfixed
I see
Tiny dark figures hanging in time

I'm tipsy on thin air
And feeling unkind.

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.

As he and the eleven
Rested In Bethany
The iscariot chose this Wednesday
To fall profound into infamy
He sold himself cheap
Didn't go for the big money
The standard price of a slave
Thirty pieces
Was all he had coming
But that play was a ruse
A ploy and a bluff
He just didn't think The Lord
******* enough.

He was sick of his religion
He'd developed apostate cancer.

Play up
Play up
And play the game
Gentle encouragement
The order of the day
Or worse
The path of non exposure
That just lengthens
And broadens the desert

Cmon now try and  watch the news
Not to extract some saliant views
But to know
By Repeated showings
The horror didn't come from you

Through time
Exasperation
Exhaustion and love
The meds
The sessions
Oh so rough
Your innards then
Had had enough
And so began to heal

Cos you can't stay frantic all the time
Terror and guilt
So must decline
All shadows
Get chased by light
Governed by rotation

That morning you said you felt a change
You licked your thumb to turn the page
Felt like my eyeballs would explode
From the sudden change of pressure

And so the daylight grew in warmth
Back to the world you sallied forth
That which seemed certain doom
Then drew a leavened smile
To pale your pitch down by the fire
At least for a good long while.

Slice your potatoes
So thick
They can take on
The oil
Salt
And fat
The nature of which
They need to be serious
So no one calls them a ****
Boil for a bit
And then on to the roasteries
Everyone likes the edges
Of their
Spuds
crispery

When you out and about
You felt the grip o the *****
There be somat about
The feel o someone you knew
But alone you feel different
Something you can barely construe
And so you delve down to
What you obviously knew.

Measure your life in tournaments
Month long gorges
On the ball
It helps you
To quantify
And organise
The thoughts
And memories
Of it all
That make up
Some bits o your life
Comparative by recall
The moments of high drama
That held you fast enthralled.

It's the fuel and the juice
It's the ******* excuse
Some say it's the fathers ruin
It was born of the need
When water needed the ****
To filter out some of the poison
It's was the grease
That we oiled
To forge
The forge
never spoiled
Where our models
Of the future rolled out
Some say
We should cut it
To the smallest amount
But you'll always find me
On the end of a spout.

And it's stood there awhile
So long in fact
All that was left
Was residual
The flies had drunk their fill
The microbes obvs
Munching there still
A light off green mulch
Mouldering at will
Until
All fuel is gone.

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.

It seems a burden
Such a weight
That
Is only you
Why did you spit
On the things
That made you
Now proved
Is it because
Now you know Better
Despite
Your
Weird
Helplessness
That
You
Plunge
Whole hearted
Into
That place

When Butch and Sundance
Watched over a plea
to raise a posse to **** em
Turn into a pitch
On future bicycleism
Old Butch went into a drunken diatribe
Bout how he could have been something
And all that transpired
Sundance the much younger man
Fixed him with an equally sloshed
Rik Mayal eye
Propped himself up on one elbow
Delivered a line that gave truth to the lie
"Well,it's too late now!".

We went down to London
We went on the train
And stared out in wonder
At cold hearted distain
Adrift in the maelstrom
They all seemed so calm
But to dwell in the big smoke
Just seemed like self harm
So we aimed ourselves north
And we sat in the pool
We let its sweet waters
Rinse fix and cool
Now we'll stay here forever
And you'll have my heart
They'd need a mighty mongol horde
Just to keep us apart.

I used to buy my Herbert
Off of
Tommy Steveo
A formidable
Sharp streetwise old hippy
Didn't take any or give no *****
But he wouldn't stiff you or take no ****
A beautiful brash soul
Always driven by reason
He had a memory
I could barely believe
Knew facts of which I could not conceive
From every match
That the reds ever played
Answer never delayed
Instantly dragged out into the smoke
He saw Buddy Holly at the Philharmonic
He had a light for a young McCartneys Chronic
And he had the best ****.

They eat well
For awhile
But they always
Get put down.

Simon Munnery said
"All men are brothers,
Hence war!"
Brought forth
Straight faces
Gentle titters
Loud guffaws
Cain and Able
Romulus and Remus
And the Dasslers
Not forgetting of course
The bow legged Gallaghers
But sometimes it doesn't have to be that way
Angus and Malcolm
Matt and Luke
The Greenwoods
All displayed
You don't have to be at war
With your brother
Don't have to
Get smacked in the mouth
Don't have to
Go home and cry to our mother.

I heard an American journalist
Describe the United Kingdom
In nineteen forty four
As
A green and pleasant
Unsinkable air craft carrier
No poetry required
There at all.

In the fairy tale of New York
The knave who would be a knight
Rejected by the queen consort
He attempts to throw his light
As gods lonely man
Every muscle must be tight
For one day
A real rain will come
And clean the streets of blight

He rescued the Fair princess
From the beast
And his foul hoard
The queen now was interested
The gas pedal he floored.

A follow up
Morrissey asked
An indeterminate amount of time
After he posed
His previous question.

The mark of your smartness
I failed of course
It meant the school
You got sent to
From central casting
Divorced
There's probably somat similar
In this modern age
But I've got no kids
So I cannot engage
On the way we educate
And who goes where
So I shrug to my fellow dummies
You'll  be fine
Ignore the *******
I'll see you over there.

David Eugene Edwards
Said his banjo was
A work instrument for God
That's some holy confidence
Yet it doesn't seem that odd.

YOURE NOT SINGING
YOURE NOT SINGING
YOURE NOT SINGING
ANYMORE!
BECAUSE YER MA
IS A *****!

Imagine hearing that everyday
As yer dad went off to work.