The Nearly Moon (revised draft)


I watch and stand

and let a passing cloud

hit by moonlight

make a rimmed spectacle

of a distant want.


I shift my weight and


and recall wordless

feelings before

putting into words

those useless



It's the words,

with their wanton

un-mouthed ache,

that bleat silently

against the ear

tangle those

as yet un-marked


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Daughter: In the year 2020


Like my rubbing of your wet face

(with a dry flannel)

Like my brushing of your dry teeth

(with baking soda)

I seem to prove  an annoying

but improving

ex-foliating daily chore. 


You stand aghast as I rail down the 'phone

(on your behalf)

for those absent cheques.

You look askance as I query the bill

(on your behalf)

for the meal that you've just paid f...

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The Nearly Moon


I'll watch and I'll stand

and let a passing cloud

hit by moonlight

make a rimmed spectacle

of a distant wait.


I'll shift my weight and

I'll blink

and recall wordless

feelings before

I put into words

those useless conditions.


It's the words,

with their wanton

un-mouthed ache,

that bleat silently

against the ear


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The Gallery #2


Someone left luggage

in a pile on the floor,

I lifted it up

to a hook by the door.

When I came back

to my lasting surprise

A crowd had now gathered-

it won the first prize.

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Persephone's latest call.

From the shower

I'm dripping wet

and a clean white towel

sits folded

beneath my 'phone

upon my bed...

It's her.

The polyphony 

is the Samsung's

knock and bell,

I'll wait awhile...

I pull the towel

from the bed.

And unlike the mess she makes

I lay on a crisp clean

and laundered sheet.

And like the mess she makes

my heart betrays

its hidden echo.


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red X

red X

my factor:

what a gas-

I'll have fun 

with my




Pandora's box

all 12 in its collection

red xed.




statistical analysis: 

red x

marks the spot.



budding like 





can go and







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Dreaming of the Tour de France (stage 14-184.5 km)

oooh   ahhh oooh   ahhh oooh   ahhh... aching buttocks aching thighs unseen crowds unseen skies between the shoulders lakes of fire stinging eyes on the spinning tyre calves and heart will explode grip the handles eat the road kilo meters  whirring chains from Revel to Ax 3 Domaines the body's racked the body begs ...

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Persephone's last laugh

Unless otherwise stated-

All photographs and images 

Are my own work.

Unless otherwise stated-

All wording and content

Are my own work.


The next time you look

Over my shoulder and

Read my work-

Keep your comments

Inside your pants;

Keep your damp passages

For wetter days;

Your crisp-apple laugh

For fresher  salads.


I warn you Persephone


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Advice to men poets

Advice to women poets:


Wearing a short skirt

Cross your legs frequently.


To remove the hand

Absently placed in your lap.

Look unconcerned.


As the waiter approaches. 

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What a mess!

We stare at the shitter:

It's pong-hole agape.

This pleasure-dome

of abandonment, 

sings money,


sings repair,


But we have to dodge

the dog shit


Ignore the prostitutes,

as we wend a path

through hurtful

remarks: and stupid



So- poetic prostitutes

 while they laugh 


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Cassandra's Complaint

I predict no1: There will be a split in the Lib-Dems.
I predict no2: There will be a murder most horrible of a leading politician.
I predict no3: There will be a general election in October.
I predict no4: There will be a rise in the popularity of 'stand-up' comedy.

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Love's cooling light


For each a time 
A thing must start
A place within replaces.
The thing becomes
Another's part
As time and line it traces.
But this shadow
That you leave
Is cast in backward glances.
And this stone 
The memories remain
An aching loss of chances.
This empty heart
Has yet to fill
The crush of empty spaces.

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She held her self still


held her self still.

And  I,

recalling her face yet-

that with my mouth

I forced the enquiry,

and argued the pressing

to her lips.

Like those wants

of wishes sated,

we had with marbled hurt

turned one back

against the other.

And now 

that was forever

-like the past-

both of us

going nowhere,


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My fear precedes me

How hard the knock-

the knock of a world

lent against its self


gone awry .

The thinking bits that

find their ends

to meet  themself,

this thinking self ...has ever

yet to mean it-

prove it!

Yet all this squandered time,

these million hours have

a time to thrill -

a time to its own terror.

And i will post this warning:

(to a sel...

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I'm Simple this way

I'm simple this way,

this way- leaning.

Watching the want,

this way- fading.

You're always this way

his way- leaning.

I'm holding this loss

this way- leaving.


When you leave

the conversation

before you've left

the company-

when I've left

your thoughts

before I've left

your sight-

When your touch

lets go

before my gras...

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Viento Norte


I would whisper the wind

to tangle your locks,

to tease your hair into a web

that entraps my fingers

that entraps my whispered wishes.

Let your hair be a tapestry of

my words

words spoken as your mouth

is watched,

watched while I whisper the words

to you.

I will watch your mouth smile

the words 

and let the Viento Norte

whisper t...

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A degree of separation: A degree of change


A degree of separation

to the hidden space

from -a split second found-

between the words and the meaning

to words a minute older

to the un-found space

to pen or key-board to page or screen

and time's arrowed leaning

all writings are simultaneously

and multi-pace 

ushered in and abandoned out


and left- resolved



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I see the future


The future is Chinese; The future is open source, I see a conflict of interests.

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Art House

Fuck you! (you middle-class twat)
Up your arse (with a bamboo bat),
Stolen from my table
Like a sex craved rat
Fuck you on your reclaimed mat
Up your sphincter 
With a painful splat.

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Advice to bi-peds

Re-pedestrianized with snow  with metalled melted ice under-the -foot and under-zero step just once but look at twice.

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I Need Minds

I need minds

I need sharp


with heart

with minds

and hearts 

and thinking heads

with minds

and knowing

knowing heads

take those lips

and so take my

my ears and...

and just start ...

...whispering to me...

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The bright bright sun

Slowly I'm


at the bright bright 


and all this time

I'm alone

as the sun shadows

it's darkness

behind you

and catches

you looking

at me:

now- I know 

how old I am.


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Too much time on one\\'s hands

Sometimes I rhyme

Sometimes I don't

Some meters will

Some meters won't

So metrical rhythm

And metrical structure

Sometimes sound sublime 

And sometimes sounds 

So like Pat Butcher.

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