I cannot wrench another word

from the mansions of my skull,

Within a room so cranium white

I close my eyes to welcome dull.

As the fish against a hook

that twists and turns its own gut free,

we'll rip the pages from a book

so others truth we cannot see.

We spin and we avert our eyes,

at bitterness of being wrong

promoting our own freeing lies

we seal...

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Those who care not for thereafter

care neither for judgement today,

their sentence evoking mere laughter

as they shuffle their coil away.

Measure for measure the scales dip and rise

a pound of flesh can mean naught,

to the debtor who plucked sight from his eyes

and was blinded to what he had bought.

To strive for reward in a place uncontained

seems an act...

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Spoken first or last

or in the void of moments past

Those remembered are the ones

unfaded by a lifetimes Suns

un-dulled by silence dark and deep

they are the words we always keep

to shield against the words of hate

which dim and slowly dissipate

those words of love their gentle gift

so fine that all of time can't sift

the strength they g...

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Paul said "it's just another day"

all magical things start this way,

"slipping into stockings stepping into shoes"

out before the sunrise making our own news.

Our preparations for a day,

washing off the bruises covering the clues

outside the days not stopping,

slipping into sunlight exposing other views.

A twelve-hour blink for dreams and drinks

to bridge...

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I spoke of fear and conjured it

a coil of smoke into a vent,

a spark inside an oily pit

flamed oxygen within a tent.

Like breathing is to living

intoxicants abound,

our fears are unforgiving

we hide yet still are found.

Is it best to face the beast

when to cower seems the way,

to fight when hope has all but ceased

to rise and seize the day.

W...

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Roll out the excuses

the old tropes and abuses

Roll out your skin

your tattooed regret

March to the drum

"lest we forget"

How many syllables

to make

the world rhyme

Save on your ammo

kill two at a

time

I've still got my luger

under the

desk

we should have

gone easy on olde

Rudolf Hess

The blood of the crown

is not of

Macbeth...

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Alexander Demidenko is dead

his home has fallen silent

Alexander Demidenko is dead

His dog is dead

His garden is dead

His hope is dead

Alexander Demidenko The Pacifist is dead

his name is known abroad

Alexander Demidenko The Pacifist is dead

The dogs are barking

The gardeners are growing

The hope he gave lives on

There will be many more Demidenko'...

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I love the books I love the words

but oceans speak what I can see

like wings give flight to stupid birds

waves move the air and that moves me

It's not the Grand or Gaudy Jewels

that steer my shallow eye

those shiny trinkets snares for fools

that pass then pass them by

But like a breeze the words can lift

the jester from the page

and impart to him a pric...

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Will they be glad when I am gone

when my bare feet float above the tile

will there be regret will there be none

will any stop to think a while

The street will stir the cars will pass

the news will come and go

the mail won't stop nor will the grass

that's how things go I know

My goodbye thoughts I will not write

there'd be no point in it

my message however so cont...

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How to ponce about with words

to aim one’s arse to shape one’s turds.

Make them pleasing to the eye,

yet still attract the common fly.

Syllable or Syllabub,

is that stanza sweet enough?

That those who pander to its taste

are far too cool to be disgraced...

by calls to gladly recreate

the chunks of words which constipate...

pure thoughts ...

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The gargoyles trough

its guttered back,

its rainy cough

is holy hack.

Grotesque the tongue

and flightless wings

"thy will be done"

The Choirboy sings.

The Organ lifts their lofty praise

this priestly herd of lowly flock,

they revel in their earthly days

anointed ones of chosen stock.

The gargoyles leer spreads too late

the cassock stained...

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Present

The absence of support

girds all his lonely fucks,

of which there are too many.

Like a whore with her impatient cucks

she stirs her pot for life,

if any.

His children will be mute and void

all in-utero hope destroyed,

his post coital last cigarette

drawn to the filter of regret,

already she is out the door

the foetus on the killing floor.

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Let us slip away today

quietly just slip away,

wend ourselves toward the sea

thread our dreams to what could be.

Unpick ourselves from patterned cloth,

blend inside a landscape, soft.

Not held or fixed as if to stay

but free that we might drift and sway.

Let us settle in the night

by waves reflecting fiery light,

to wake in wonder at the sound

of eve...

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She's pushing her child the long way back home

it's warmer walking than being at home

She's passed on her details to welfare and police

better to be known than not known to police

She's been to the bank for warmth and for food

better to be given than not to have food

She went to the Mosque for friendship and prayer

better the friendship that comes with the prayer

...

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The Blood of Christ

in B&Q,

with tools and joist

their job to do.

The empty pews

the wine, the bread,

pastoral views,

across the dead.

The licensed hours

of temple aisles,

the plastic flowers.

the checkout smiles.

The collared throats

of men withdrawn,

Luther's notes

nailed up at dawn.

Between the two

It's hard to tell,

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The dendrology of Cities,

expanding from one seed of thought.

Their early settlements,

stone walled squares

their markets soiled and stained.

Cobbled pathways from steepled yards

meet public houses,

butchers and bakers.

Further still to the farmers and fishers

the outcasts the lepers.

Building on building,

road leads to road, from avenue

to escap...

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I am completely sane screamed the madman in rain

inside the scope of the trijicon

his wrists dripping blood and the money all gone.

Naked dancer on East African clay

panga smashed skulls at the height of the day

the Askari gate guard his chest "en filets".

Diphtheria racked gasps in a third world throat

promise to the bearer defaced on the note

with flood waters risin...

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Do you remember The Oystercatchers

in the quiet of still morning?

Their call shrill and persistent

as if a warning...

that in places formed from fiery rock

cold hearts might thaw their perma-freeze,

and from that melt of frozen shock

rise like Eagles on Summer breeze.

Do you remember how we fell?

and how we sailed that Mirrored Sea,

firing memories on...

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Originally called "Bethany beyond the Jordan" Because God is now business and copyright: renamed "Beyond the Valley"

Falling from the heaven's gate

toward the ruined Jericho

the river cuts the valley straight,

between two lands forged long ago.

From its waters kings rose up

anointed by unfounded creed,

that all who drink its holy cup

ensure their words live ...

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A chair leg

stands beneath an arse

enduring scrapes

and endless farts

It is the cornerstone

of rest

forever subject

to weight and stress

In some respects

it's just like you

it bears the load

it has to do

But if it creaks

and one day falls

the chair it holds

is bugger all

And all the

arse that ever sat

upon its strengt...

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