The sign at the inn swung like a gallows

the light lay low on the heath.

Old Ben was in his settle

sucking baccy through his teeth.

Puddles formed on the flagstones

where a one - eyed dog stood watch;

underneath a ragged sky

the inn was dark as a crotch,

except for a fire - lit window

that glowed like a winter star,

through which a cluster of faces took in

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Of sleeping rough i've had enough

and the pointless error of my ways.

I've seen the light the other night,

a man from the Church was doing research

on how we spend our days.

Now i've turned myself around

like others sometimes do.

Well, after all it's a waste of a life,

so now i'm looking for a wife

to love me for what I might become

instead of just a pathetic bum...

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Battersea lay on its back

like an old dog in the sun,

its legs in the air.

A postwar indolence

hung loosely at the kerbs.

Rails gently simmered on their way to homes.

Factory chimneys were idle,

and on this Christmas day

for those still about, dawdling

there was a pint to be had at a corner pub.

An air of honesty led to no false hopes,

no promise of ...

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The shortest day rolls away like a brief lament

in a book near its end, and my, how it's flown

in the reading my friend!

Even as we mourn for the light

half blinded while waiting for inky night,

we celebrate with incantation as if

there's fear in the shortness of it, like dying breath

on lips that talk of its passing away.

A celestial hound sniffs amongst leaves

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Hi Charlie, hope things are going well for you and the family.

It seems such a long time now.

I had to find a new spot to kip down last week

as there are some dodgy types taking over,.

I thought my luck couldn't last.

Still on the scrounge at the moment,

but the hostels were doing my  head in.

Once you get used to the streets

it's like an anaesthetic, plus the odd cider

...

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Sing to me of city lights,

of good time girls for lonely nights.

Sing to me of guarded spaces,

of feuds and rights, trading places.

Talk to me of stars above,

the hushed embrace of once tried love

and I will talk to myself in doorways,

sleep the sleep of the undead.

I will hide an outrage tight

like a possession to keep out the cold.

I shall s...

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After toddlers are potty trained

we can all breathe a sigh of relief

as the earth turns recycled shit into slurry

packed in plastic

in no great hurry to regurgitate.

Their beautiful little smiling faces

not showing signs of our easy disgraces,

as we bury our faults in earthy vaults

while showing off our progeny,

who soon enough will start to bewail

our cont...

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"Take me with you wherever you go," I cried.

She looked at me with star-studded eyes.

"There is no need for that," she replied.

"You have a life of your own to live,

and although you think you love me

I can only hinder you.

The life she held back would never be mine,

nor her shy and gracious face.

The moon with its dark side explained it all

with its finge...

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You can keep your Monte Carlo

your islands of celebrity.

Give me Haven Holidays

a blissful week at Allhallows on Sea.

You can keep your crab and langoustines

by candlelight in harbour bars.

Give me whelks, cockles,

a plate of mussels,

chips and a bowl of Haagen Daas.

You can keep your romantic settings,

tropical playgrounds under palms.

Give me a mist on ...

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Close by the summer spire of St.Barnabus

Flossie Sheridan waits for a trolleybus

statuesque with her mane of auburn hair

knowing all there is to know

from flowing crown to tippy toe

in her school blue and grey looking neat.

Here comes the red and gliding bus

with a hiss and a spark past Clissold Park,

the conductor bright buttoned

swings out to welcome her aboard.

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A record slides from within its sleeve

palm supported to the deck;

the needle descends,

he takes  his place

to where she curls up with that special face.

While reaching down to pull him off

he stays her hand for Rachmaninov,

a musical climax steadily building,

his spirit soaring.

Something about his isolation worries her

as he closes his eyes;

she sulks a...

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It was hiding itself amongst wet flannel leaves

given up by the ghost of the earlier year - a challenge I was willing to take,

the incinerator

like a dustbin with holes.

Last week I had burned free offers

lurid lies and half promises

all crated in with a stick

despatched with a match or two.

Now it was different.

Old skeletons of cuttings stuck straight up

hard p...

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There are fields of lavender in England

gathered into bottles, bags, pillows

to inspire with calmness.

Japanese come with cameraphones

to record the novelty -

news for a small island.

"There, there! they say in Japanese

and worship colour in nature.

They have Mount Fuji, bullet trains

and problems of their own

to do with factories and yields.

Lavende...

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As I ascended the hill

the air became ever more still

until it hung crystal as a chandelier,

pine forests leaning dark

against a clear stunning sky of biting cold.

and when I reached the lake

it was glass as sure as a dream,

as deep as its needs required,

a secret hid from man in his selfish trance.

and I thought looking back to hear no sound

there was the w...

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Spare a thought as he comes amongst you

prepared to burst like a boil of hate

on the line he crossed many times

between sanity and that other place

he had to face,

to live his life in the shadow of death revived

knowing the price he has paid

for being witness to exploded breath

spare a thought for him

the one who came out of the storm of fire

remember him

.

visi...

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And the great and good of every country held an assembly

never the like of which had been seen before:

Consorts, despots, legitimately voted leaders,

church representatives, tribal gurus,

shamans, every nut and bolt of power gathered there

on a beacon lit hilltop, with no security presence

at a propitious time in the calendar decided upon by wise men

in their small u...

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When the sunrise loses hope

birds stop singing,

an aura gathers around the rim

then there's too much remembering

looking back for answers

which never come,

only questions that hang in the air

then sink down with secrets

in the blood red setting sun.

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Take the Stannah Stairlift to Paradise,

now wouldn't that be nice,

fitting included in the price.

Sitting there with slippers on

watching the downstairs rooms receding,

a quiet hum as the clouds drift by.

Stoked up on medicated bliss

life could never be better than this.

As the landing hoves into view

wallpaper looking down at you

to meet and greet the carpe...

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The drop in centres were dropped,

post offices closed,

banks blanked off,

supermarkets fully automated,

high street stores awaiting budget announcements,

benefits savagely cut,

surgeries under threat,

local bus routes severed.

      The community relief specialist paused

      near a gap in static traffic

      to check a crumpled heap,

      spotted a note wh...

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I thought the entering knife was bad

until I saw a bullet wound,

photographed in black and white

as when a life is ripped apart.

In the darkness of emotion

held securely in case of threat,

lies the answer to man's endeavour

for war to drive the body apart.

Such is the game that pulls men in

with all the weight of industry behind,

all its trickery and enterpr...

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The House of Usher is up for sale

with a casket of secrets

and a built in tale.

Family histories tainted, unclean

bursting to be told

by those unseen.

The House of Usher increased in price

when it turned its back on Paradise,

with skeletons in cupboards

and other artefacts,

like unspeakable things in sacks.

The trees in the garden, weighed down in sorrow

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Amongst those I admire most

must surely be the Holy Ghost.

Indefinable, unfathomable,

a lesson to us all

in how to remain invisible

yet unfailingly enthrall.

With a presence compulsory

though indescribable to most.

Yes, amongst the Ones I much admire

must be the holy Ghost.

Something you will never meet

except on a lost horizon;

nevertheless its place ...

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relish your dark woundings,

prime your pellets,

Check your powders,

For soon comes the hunter's moon.

polish your stock,

let your barrel breathe oil, 

make slick your cloth's 

preparations,

practise footfalls of stealth,

For soon comes the hunter 's moon.

While fen and forest

Sweat and furrow,

While fur frets

In the burrow,

Hold fast your dreams ...

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Isn't nature wonderful, she thinks

holding the tip of her Mont Blanc pen

against the ruby of her lips. 

Gregory is in the city as usual;

behind mullioned windows

a weak sun lights up the estuary of the Dee.

Her red setter lies fully stretched

on the killim rug

and suddenly it is time

for the pen to write

        describing the turn of the river

almost out of s...

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The Angel of Death was dancing 

in a veil of gossamer grey,

close by her side the Grim Reaper pressed

as night faded into day.

He grinned through his hood like a gentleman should

while her wings caught the light of the moon;

like shattered glass in a ravaged dawn

they sparkled then faded away.

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Benjamin Britten strode out

one crisp spring morning to a crowd of seagulls;

North Sea clouds parted

to let the sun through.

This was his muse, his choir,

a thin gruel of music in his head

preparing for release.

Harps and the voices of boys split infinity

over the shingle.

He worried about the cause,

the great horizon of gestation held tight

in an unaccep...

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Benjamin Britten strode out

one crisp spring morning to a crowd of seagulls;

North Sea clouds parted

to let the sun through. 

This was his muse, his choir,

a thin gruel of music in his head

preparing for release. 

Harps and the voices of boys split infinity

over the shingle.

He worried about the cause,

the great horizon of gestation held tight

in an unacc...

Read and leave comments (0)

I want to feel important,

i'd like to meet the Queen,

even a minor Royal would do

as long as i'd be seen. 

The spin - offs could be useful

online and in the pub,

i'd like to get a selfie

with Queenie in the scene. 

I was born quite humble

and havn't changed my name

unlike Sir Elton and other knights

I have no claim to fame.

But i'd like to feel im...

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Death for a cause

pain beyond belief

Crucifixion;

A following.

After two thousand years

the old planets roll,

eyes cast up to God

or down with grief,

seeking answers. 

All is silence

beyond belief. 

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Yorkshire stands proud of its men

(not sure about the women).

It's what can get you famous.

Nobbut a lad etcetera

charming the arse off the elite

with mud on't feet. 

And as for that painter fella

stained glass window in t'Palace of Westminster

seat a't power,

no problem now they've got rid of the bloody tower. 

So! We stand tall, grander than 'em all

and...

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Where I live the lanes run this way and that

all confused changing their minds.

On scowling days they run with rain

to remind you which is up and which is down. 

Back on myself I go to places I thought I knew

and wonder about: doors replaced under feathered slate

this year's car behind a rickety gate.

A freshly dug bed behind a hedge privacy nevertheless shared.

A...

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There is no poetry in music, not this way:

a room pulsating with dance,

the detritus of meals discarded,

some celebration of sales figures achieved,

the mutual masturbation of praise

for the highlight of successful days. 

There is no poetry in noise,

a hell machine driven to death

on the sweat of drunken breath. 

No, no poetry for me;

although I play the songs

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Next to the food bank

a tiny table had been laid outside,

with fine linen, silver cutlery

best china, napkin keenly folded,

a resolute chair of some repute. 

The town awaited with baited breath

a celebrity who was due to dine,

to be waited on there.

Soon a butler arrived,

the ceremony commenced. 

lavish dishes from a special vehicle

a team of news guys in...

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Songs my mother taught me at the breast

sweet hauntings while to the nipple pressed

too late for memory's supplication now

though promises made of life a silent vow.

The song of dust and bones is grinding slow,

what the finger writes

we surely cannot know.

Then her sweet lips were pressed

into a grave;

a shovel rang, the music of the spheres

enchanted echoed back

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Subtlety ?  forget it.

Put it in and you'll regret it,

Might as well talk to yourself

in an empty council toilet.

LIke any private moment, wasted,

someone's sure to spoil it. 

Most of the readers will miss your point

then move to something safer.

So make your gestures obvious

for easy quick consumption.

Nobody likes to think too hard

without the wit or gumptio...

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I wasn't upset at the funeral today,

my cup already full of misery.

Death shouldn't be a matter of numbers,

but they were clocking up

in familiar places,

with unspoken duties of sadness.

The last one was different

which I couldn't attend

nursing my shocked and tender heart,

but families are full of expectation

and familiar strangers,

so this time it didn't cou...

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Here stands Tim Quiney

porter at Defford

for over thirty years.

In the background, undisturbed

the station he knew so well,

in the Vale of Salty Tears. 

Such men are copied

on heritage lines,

celebrating the way things used to be,

but on that day we see him

he went down with history

along with the Vale of Salty Tears. 

He lost his job along with others

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"How're ye doin' honey?

I got here as soon as I could."

    He's all strapped up,

    tubes like spaghetti,

    leg in a splint. 

"I'm doin' jus' fine, i'm OK you know. "

    Multiple fractures,

    bed curtains fastracking, 

    stethoscopes wagging,

    emergency vehicles

    not long from the scene. 

"How'd it happen, what's the news?"

"Well, h...

Read and leave comments (6)

When the men came a-knocking

the die was cast,

plans in tatters behind the door;

then mothers wrung their hands in grief

clinging to tragic hope and belief. 

On their final visiting list

were sons of Derry

who had drank and talked

sealing their fate

without a trial. 

When the man came a-knocking

to take them away

those dreamers of freedom

espousers ...

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Nirvana

Elysium

Arcadia,

unlike holiday destinations

don't exist in brochures

or online,

don't make false promises,

offer palm trees, white beaches

rolling surf,

beach bars

recliners,

bliss of a transient kind

that runs out back at the airport

with the phone turned off.

You may sense them on balmy breezes:

magic carpet rides,

in a look wher...

Read and leave comments (5)

Heat is sighing in the glade

so we look for welcome shade,

remembering a pond 

that scratched itself on the backs of rushes

concealing more than it could show. 

We lean together on a fence

watch some ducklings

paddling on lily pads

like uncertain swimmers

precarious and disjointed. 

Adults stay in the shallows

bobbing like coracles. 

A man comes with b...

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In the graveyard, a low sad sun

helps to reveal names on headstones,

green from time's dedication,

scrolled like a will and testament

or in bold font according to taste. 

"Departed this life"- the date obscured.

Bees choose life in the blossom;

while the old church, defending its faith

with custom, lurches into safe oblivion. 

I see a fresh headstone

with it...

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While the film was running

somebody died.

It's always like that,

just as you thought there was a plot

as likely as not

there'll be an alternative ending

that nobody saw coming. 

Except perhaps GOD

who fails to rewind

playing cinematic tricks with your mind.

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The saxophone is only as good as you feel,

a masterpiece of confusion brought to heel,

constantly seeking company.

"Speak with me

speak with me it says,

I have so much to tell."

With plaintive insistence it reaches out,

then, tired from sound

lays down in velvet ruffs.

Enough is enough the ventriloquist says,

then the dummy cries itself to sleep,

in a dre...

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"I need to improve my media presence,"

said the weasel to the shrew.

"Some selfies and a profile page,

an agent should know what to do. 

No more slinking and stinking for me,

i'll lift my image

come out of the wild.

What think you?"

"Just wishful thinking, weasel words,"

replied the cunning and baleful shrew,

knowing full well the seed now sown

he took the ide...

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"What's that, Daddy?" I had said,

pointing through the window in my memory.

"Railway engines on railway lines," he had said

in the early morning Vauxhall mist.

His cigarette smoke blended with

the stuffy morning sun,

another dying day begun;

railway lines,

crossing over an instant distance of time.

He read my thoughts,

why wouldn't he? 

Today Waterlo...

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The biggest moment of his life

was when he took it -

so big it was that it rose up to meet him

with a large handshake,

a welcome to something he knew nothing about

nor wished to,

but nothing he could imagine

would be worth remaining behind for -

all the colours bled into one

like a balloon with nothing to celebrate,

a rubber joke inflated.

Perhaps he was the joke,

Read and leave comments (13)

Onomatopoiea, i'd like to make it clear

is just the description of the sounds

that actions make when they strike our ear. 

Here's one example: a crash or a smash,

everyday words; a bit of a shock

when something happens to make those sounds

that often enough will cause a fleeing

like the hissing sound of someone peeing. 

Not so grating but disconcerting

nevertheless ...

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Lifting the words from the page

turning them over, it was as I thought:

different meanings

different strokes for different folks,

hastily assembled in ragged ranks

all stary eyed

come to serve the masterminds

revealing well known and trusted themes,

turning over new exotic leaves

page by page, just so much foliage,

and us reborn all starry eyed

in mangers...

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Wonder can take you that extra mile,

along with doubt of course.

They can get you a long way into

the places you don't understand but wish to. 

How the friend you knew looks up

from a bolstered pillow,

eyes betraying his stunted body,

that's today's cold compression.

How to fathom your own voice

as it rebounds into your head

where there is no expression. 

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Why don't you leave us discarnate souls

alone in the dark of night to play

with the dreams we lived and are stuck with now?

We're happy in our misery,

happy to sleep throughout your day

at night to live in mystery. 

That's when you come with all your tackle

to prove our existence as if we care

to be revealed in your screwed up world.

All you seek is to hav...

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Just by the flyover

empty office blocks wait for life

decked with wild flowers

around their base, an afterthought

finding cracks,

a hopeful assertion. 

Like giants aloof, swarming up

from the uncaring ground

they have no part to play

in this excitation of decay. 

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I fucked you in a mirror,

I fucked you on a dance floor,

in the kitchen

in the garden too;

it may seem all the same to you

but i'm proud of my backgrounds,

scenes of spice,

sometimes I forget just where

and really, does anyone care

if i'm Roger Moore or Mack the Knife?

It's just a fucking part of life. 

Read and leave comments (5)

Mandy O Mandy

are you woman or man?

Fifty fifty I would say,

do you have a plan?

I'm all at sea

you're just like me

with a woman's mind

in a strange and masculine territory. 

I can feel a song coming on,

strange fruit,

an unaccustomed harmony. 

Read and leave comments (1)

"I love you," I said

closing the gap of years -

"I love you too," she said.

We walked holding hands

celebrating her two replacement hips.

Hospitals split you up,

cleave you with fears;

such a routine part of life - and yet,

you think of the anaesthetic and the knife. 

Today it all works out,

I squeeze her hand. 

She talks of moisturizers,

I the airbrus...

Read and leave comments (9)

It was as if the sky and the earth

had stopped talking to each other;

two warriors at odds,

arid and distant,

a stand off. 

Yet, one night we sensed a reconciliation,

a broody bank of cloud

come with a message

for the bald brown grass

festering like a parchment of peace discarded. 

I heard whisperings on leaves, 

as of tiny footsteps,

weary emissaries ...

Read and leave comments (13)

I'm practising scales and simple pieces,

on another planet I play with ease

Rachmaninov's concerto number three.

It's funny how wonderful music can be

as I sense the movements of Mister Worthy

leaning over to turn a page,

the smell of experience on his clothes. 

"Concentrate on one thing at a time"

is what call me Adrian said last week.

That's what i've be...

Read and leave comments (5)

In rare unguarded moments

you'd see the old motorbikes

side - propped at a kerb

languidly leaning:

    Douglas Dragonfly

    Velocette with fishtail silencer

    Sunbeam, Ariel Square Four,

    Vincent Black Shadow. 

Everything deeply chromed

from pretty heads

to tippy toes,

Dunlop tyres, de rigeur,

and wait for the owner,

the original often as...

Read and leave comments (8)

In rare unguarded moments

you'd see the old motorbikes

side - propped at a kerb

languidly leaning:

    Douglas Dragonfly

    Velocette with fishtail silencer

    Sunbeam, Ariel Square Four,

    Vincent Black Shadow. 

Everything deeply chromed

from pretty heads

to tippy toes,

Dunlop tyres, de rigeur,

and wait for the owner,

the original often as...

Read and leave comments (0)

She knows the right people,

names names,

wears them with pride. 

Wears jeans by Stella McCartney,

shoes from LK Bennett,

bags by Louis Vuitton.

Her diary is full -

free tickets to first nights

at Glyndebourne, The Palladium,

film premieres.

The ping of a message comes

bringing lavish detail, back story. 

She loves everyone to death just in ca...

Read and leave comments (4)

I noticed Jeremy Hunt at the front

adjusting his tie for the world watching,

where actors playing Churchill were filmed

 bully beef rotting on the vine

the squatting of force prepared.

For once the dramatics were plain to see

a sense of occasion contained,

body clocks at ground zero

flies assembled around shit that smelled so fresh

designed to be impressed. 

boys...

Read and leave comments (9)

Something about that eye

not seeing,

not knowing me there

is like a dream

of soaring free

the gripping of a branch

consensual sex on the wing.

Beside me now on the spade

while clawing at nothing,

it seems unconcerned

while the bright beads of bluebottles

steer her to the earth. 

Read and leave comments (14)

He'll tell you what you already know

or don't wish to know,

the choice is limitless

the vision narrow,

a window of opportunity for him. 

He is pleased with his delivery,

your reactions are superfluous.

It may be the revelation of a recent operation,

the exciting follow up,

his memory for detail staggering

as he watched it onscreen

like kebabs under cool lights...

Read and leave comments (11)

At the A & R in Charing Cross Road

you'd have to mind your P's & Q's

Behave right - no T shirts, jeans or trainers

or it was goodnight

when you hit the long stairs

two floors down to the pavement.

You'd see Ronnie Knight

various heavies, luminaries of street trade,

drinks at bargain prices, 

cash at all times. 

A drummer mate of mine

low of brow, bit...

Read and leave comments (13)

Some folks are fans of Taylor Swift

Kylie or Beyonce,

but I for one am not impressed,

their singing leaves me quite depressed.

That modern bunch I must admit

just seems a little poncy.

When it comes to songs and singing 'em

Vera Lynn is the girl for me,

i'm just now going on eighty three;

my memory serves me right you see.

My favourite album of hers I cheris...

Read and leave comments (2)

When he said there are no words

I knew he told the truth,

and love poured in to heal the wound

where words would try to help.

I know you can't describe a gap

in lives so badly rent,

but nothing's lost that's truly learned

and lessons taught when truly earned

to help by kind consent.  

Read and leave comments (5)

WHEN....THE....BIG....HAND....IS....ON....TWELVE

THE....BIG....MOUSE....RUNS....DOWN....THE....PIPE

THE....SKY....SCREAMS...GOODNIGHT

NO....LOGIC....CAN....CURE....YOU....NOW

THE....MOUSE....WAS....YOUR....ONLY....FRIEND

THE....LITTLE....HAND....IS....NOT....FAR....BEHIND

THE....SWEEP....OF....CLAWED....FATE

Read and leave comments (7)

The people come like wolves

into hushed art galleries,

discreet and solemn libraries

to destroy history's mirrors of culture

finding them irrelevant to their cause. 

A change is coming. 

Deep into archives

dowsing with petrol

faces set firm into the fray

they light the day with dark intent. 

Soon impartial enquirers will come

to report the news:

some m...

Read and leave comments (3)

The wheel of misfortune keeps on turning,

a hole in his pocket is rapidly burning.

Hope is raging like a bull,

the jaunty screen calling him back:

"Place your bets now, place your bets."

Somewhere in a far off dream

fortunes are waiting to be made,

a four pack helps it on its way,

his wife is missing, the bed unmade. 

Still he awaits the grand parade. 
 

Read and leave comments (6)

Pru,Pru, dearest Pru

since we went to Ironbridge

you've taken a shine to Ironbru.

Now you have a spring in your step

i'm beginning to feel like Johnny Depp

with heavy makeup and a yard of ale

sharing a stoveside bawdy tale.

I'm in with a chance again I reckon

while we potter along the Mon. and Brecon

Read and leave comments (5)

Stepfather, stepfather you have no card,

today is just another day,

the reflected glory of sons seen through darkened glass

the reward for love by proxy;

toiling uphill to see the horizon closing in

when others may bask in yearly glory. 

We don't expect a card

there ain't one printed for us, and that's official. 

but spare a thought while we with outstretched hand

o...

Read and leave comments (8)

Skegness was bracing on the day of my return,

summer had been a misfortune of time and place

but needs must, a living to be made.    The dancer

was waiting on the esplanade her nose running,  

hunched against the cold hard rails where the sea

humped the shingle, scraping a purpose.  We walked

to the Kardomah cafe, the door an echo in its frame -

silently drank tea, watched the...

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Balance is the thing

that keeps you in the saddle

that runs along the tube

to reach the handlebars

that keeps your body poised

that runs down to the wheels

which turn you round,

keeps you off the ground

that rushes by when

turning your legs

having future's road in view

to leave the past behind.

Balance is the thing.

Once the mechanism is explained

 al...

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I was always on the road,

on the road through different towns,

through endless routes from A to B

and B to C and back to A

tight lipped in automobilitic flight,

on lonely motorways,

struggling to stay awake,

the long hard lights hypnotising me,

and sometimes, often, there would be

a stretch of houses in intimate night

eyeless uncharacteristic blocks

whose slee...

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You are my needle

I am your thread.

Wher'ere you go

I will be led. 

Be wary when

you point the way,

not hearing what

I have to say,

for with your plans

so tightly sewn

you may just find

you've lost the thread

to end up all alone. 

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Little white clouds

write out louds

(cockney rhyming slang).

It don't mean nothing

so it must mean something

a bit like doo lang a lang.

This doggerel is not designed to impress

and what it means

is anyone's guess.

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At the tiny garden centre

a Ford Ranger pulled in,

window went down,

husband as controlled as a fist,

sullen, white T shirt

stayed in the car. 

Wife, blowsy, voluptuous

exhuding brute sexuality

got out. 

Two identikit boys followed:

slightly tubby, cropped hair,

white shirts and ties. 

Probably come from church,

such is their custom on a Sunday.

"Wher...

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Sugar rush I love you so. 

Eyes half closed

luscious longings half open

she holds a Magnum to her lips,

the trajectory planned in advance

sugar rush enhanced. 

An ice cream lush

on the blinking screen,

sunburst cream

immersed in velvet

as rewarding as a placenta

a secret dream

known by psycho sexual boys

who know how to apply

market pre...

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Dear Quentin Crisp, I feel you should

have been re-planted as a tree,

preferably a willow, having learnt

the tricks of beauty in cross winds.

Your leaves could be as silk

pocket handkerchiefs tumbling;

thin branches your arms wafting

like the tired springs of automata. 

Flowers should be left at your feet,

so dandy and neat,

a message of congratulation pinne...

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A train terminating in Troon

brings Harry and Megan to town.

The Lord Lieutenant will carry the pennant,

there'll be swapping of keys and a spoon. 

Harry will wear his kilt,

Megan dressed up to the hilt,

Mrs Fitzpatrick will open her cafe

tastefully rebuilt. 

Penelope Keith will be there

with wonderful teeth and hair,

Megan Markle will be sure to sparkle,

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A thief comes in the night

scooping memory from reluctant skulls.

Next day, a little more gone. 

He tucks the memories under his coat,

casts them to the four winds like ashes. 

Another grey head laments, where is my mind?

Next he steals orientation; 

more lamentation. 

The thief is always busy throwing things away.

"No use to me, he says,

I cast fates t...

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We inherited the Empire

Hearts of Oak

and school desks,

surrounded by proud maps

of our world possessed, 

teachers living on in ancient jackets

or long skirts, rheumy eyes

haunted by the war,

while our inkpots were primed.

A scooped trough held pens

with push - on nibs

scratching some semblance of sense

to those who judged

fair or foul intent.

Ou...

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The woman pushes her babies

five at a time in the well-used buggy,

bag lady to the untrained eye;

but the babies are dolls we see

all cock a hoop jammed in

jostling for air and space. 

No one passes the time with her,

and she seems unaware,

too rigidly focussed to notice others'

consternation or disbelief.

Then there is our relief

of walking past, putting dist...

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The flash of a blade on giddy steps,

the camera a sniffing dog

searching for clues in puddled dark. 

Two shadows meet with desperation

then flee from prying eyes. 

Passionella waits in the sombre light

of a dingy room,

looks down at the street

watching for watchers,

the gauloises glow. 

A soft knock comes.

He is there with his crooked smile,

offer...

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Skeleton staff, always pleased to help,

pleased that they've come back to life

given yet another chance. 

Cheap to run, never complain

rise from the dead again and again,

no service issues, bang on time,

cheaper than robots, quite sublime

and full of humour, lots of fun,

collect in groups or one by one.

They know our thoughts and serve us well,

arrested...

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I love them in the summertime

and in the winter too,

I love them in the evening time

and in the morning dew. 

To these I give my gratitude

as gifts from God on high,

more welcoming I often say

than a comely maiden's thigh. 

When thoughts of darkness threaten me

I simply close my eyes,

and there before me standing proud

I see the lows and highs. 

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A chair is a chair is a chair

but the one upon which I now am sat

gives me the support I need

and its history is its own,

shaped by restless hands and minds

who know their sockets

their integral parts and how they fit

before the body becomes part of it. 

I know their hearts and souls,

have trodden where no average man

has sat before, that is to say

I will not ...

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Sometimes it's just nice to be predictable,

let the surprising light into your shed

grab those inherited and dusty implements,

try to take nature by surprise,

ending up taking yourself seriously. 

It's always hard these days, penetration

of virgin soil, as old as the hills.

Thank God for the thrust of intent

at least, how the tines go in,

the back today holds up, su...

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The ladies love their men to be strong but gentle,

romantic and sentimental,

not forgetting those yearly events

with chocolates and flowers,

room at the inn. 

The minute they stray to vintage cars,

tudor bars, the clotting  of men's company

the hunting for trophies,

that's when the ladies uncoil the viper's tail,

being deadler to the male. 

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In spite of delayed surgery appointments,

      under funding of the NHS

      admissions kept waiting on trolleys

      overcrowded A & E departments

      sub standard hospital food

      overworked doctors

      underpaid nurses

      last minute cancelling of operations

      administrative cock ups

      risk of MRSA

      the banning of flowers to cheer patients...

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The Pensioner Poet looks cool today,

he studies the dust on his capuccino

admires the casual impression it makes,

checks the aerosol in his bag.

Takes a sip from the frothy brew,

he knows his moves, what he must do. 

His poetry submissions have fallen flat

nothing but rejection slips;

sipping more of the frothy brew

a pristine verse is rising up

as he drains the ...

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This ward was for those who waited to die,

among them my mother,

Kate Pool nee Hayward.

On her wristband a date:

28  9  08,

details that separated her

from those i'd never known,

those I would never know,

her uniqueness confirmed. 

Amongst those unknowns she lay,

her wonderful miraculous life

part of a circle of depleted energy hard used

giving service and ...

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Hi everyone out there, Rose Kwartz here.

My advice today is:  SIT TIGHT.

Legs together - nothing can enter your mind.

Be at peace, open your chakras,

think crystal.

Think crystal and all will be well.

Only today, I bought meat from Walmart,

took it home.

I though - wow! do chickens have chakras?

There is more to the universe

than we can ever probably ever know.

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His wife checks her watch - 11.05,

brings mid-morning coffee.

He will be controlling the through freight

from Shrewsbury on the miniature layout,

tiny electrical impulses bringing

the barn conversion to life.

Slumped heavily over a viaduct

he blocks the line to the tiny English

branchline station,

a train lopsided off the rails,

sheep and cows on their backs,

...

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God knows that all men are born equal,

so that must be so, mustn't it?

God obviously could never be wrong. 

In singing that particular song

from the same old hymn sheet

we are fine examples of that simple half truth

for why have equal opportunities

to give some a leg up,

bind us to a common goal to be more equal,

if we already are so. 

God knows what HE...

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Two loners in search of an identity

some solace gained

in company unique.

The long search is never over,

landscapes shift

lives drift. 

As a fox senses the wind,

so there is a purpose.  

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If you go down to the woods today

you're in for a big surprise.

You may just see the odd invasion

involving tits and thighs,

bums and cocks, cocks and bums,

the sucking of thumbs,

fannies and aunts,

retard and advance,

sweat and shadow

in a lurid display,

reaming and creaming

muffled screaming,

trousers down,

skirts pulled up

bums and cocks, cocks and bums

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My dolly's called Jemima,

she believes in fairy tales.

She comforts me on scary nights

after Mummy's put out the lights.

when I see things on the bedroom door,

hear sounds through cracks beneath the floor. 

Jemima tells me it's quite alright,

these are things that happen in the night.

My Mummy seems quite scared as well

at things that upset her in the world;

she ...

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Everyone waits their turn to be checked. 

Newly arrived: Ken Dodd and Stephen Hawking

now they're talking.

No obvious impediments on the mental level.

Ken has observed Stephen's prediction

that the universe will come to grief,

to be snuffed out like a magician's trick.

Not to be blinded by science he remarks:

"Never mind, this present place seems very nice,

and...

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Deep in the bowels of the BBC

dark doings are at work. 

The Magic Circle have taken a room

painted a pentangle on the floor

like Hitler's bunker with plans afoot

some hieroglyphics marked on a chart

a ceremony is about to start.

"Brucie, Bruce we know you're there!

(with or without your cranial hair.)

We miss your stagey cheery presence

your a...

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