GIVE

Your amours.

2010-01-15T10:16:00.003Z

All our pasts are chequered,
But yours still has the pieces
On the board.

Youngrier

2010-01-15T10:16:00.001Z

Never known anything
New
Or held anything
Old.

You know how we were earlier.

2010-01-15T10:15:00.004Z

Curtains blowing out beyond the newly
Opened frame,
Billowing swifter than a military ideal
Without restraint,
Instantly recognized and turned away
Before their touching
And issued orders to restore themselves
To where they used to be.

Venerable beads of sweat well spilt
To seal their service
Drawn forth from furrowed brows upraised,
Belonging to reservists,
Conscripted by quick opportunists in slow
Administrations
In place of those professionals on
Overseas vacations.

Applied lightly over carpets cut from
Ancient Persian rugs,
Which have been thrown around the room
Instead of psychedelic drugs,
And used primarily to keep the window
Cleaners from appealing
For a cask of clear water to stop
Smeared windows from concealing.

Worsted.

2010-01-15T10:15:00.003Z

This word of news
I wish disbelieved,
Un-received;
Its text corrected,
Effects rejected,
And fast.
Its facts detracted,
Vacuum packed,
And sent back.

Would be aspirant.

2010-01-15T10:15:00.001Z

Believe in one you know
Is true,
And is unbelieving.
Receive them in your arms
And know
They’re the ones receiving.

Reflect on it too long,
And someday
You’ll stop reflecting.
Affection for your love
Is what
You should be effecting.

Aspire to hold them high
And who
Can deny you your aspirations.
Retire a younger man
And you
Can enjoy your incarnation.

Worn down.

2010-01-15T10:14:00.001Z

I’ve got sun stroke again,
..But with more ashen skin.
I’ve got heat waves aplenty,
..But my oven’s empty.
I’ve got alcohol poisoning,
..But am abstaining noisily.
I’ve got me obesity,
..But I’m starving hungry.
I’ve got all sex easily,
..But I’m verging on celibacy.

I’ve got order in my wardrobe
..But chaos in my choice.

I’ve got a political degree,
..But I’ve found voter apathy.
I’ve got religious tolerance,
..But at heathens I’m hollering.
I’ve got feelings of equality,
..But I hate all people equally.
I’ve lived amongst the global soup,
..But longed for a more tribal group.
I’ve run nothing like a racist,
..But am purveying for the basest.

I thought I had it honestly,
..But I think I’ve been deforesting.

World made well.

2010-01-15T10:13:00.003Z

This is the world we made
When the sweet opened my eyes
And the salt bit deep your tongue.

This is the sun that shines down,
And here comes the rain.
There is the sea we swam in,
And here is the sand.

These are the clothes we stood in,
And left where they fell down.
This is the bed we loved in;
There are the clothes we lived in,
And left where they were.
This is the summer knowledge
That is all we’ll require
To face what will follow.

This is the world that remains
From the start
Now that time of our lives has
Gone back to its place,
And all that is mine is yours.

Worked upon.

2010-01-15T10:13:00.001Z

What a colourful dovetail
Up close we are,
What a wonderful shovel
We make,

And the last of a handful of hopefuls,
We are,
Now the rest have been turned
Into rakes.

Whole man.

2010-01-15T10:12:00.002Z

He got to his age without any reason to weep,

To this place with no guiding sign post to bide,

And his face with never a furrow or frown.

To his gait without any haste or horse bolt,

And his taste with no sense of smell to speak of,

To his case with never a care for defence,

And his fate without any concept of fear.

With whims of change.

2010-01-15T10:12:00.001Z

Now you’re fine;
Is your mind at peace now?
Once you’ve found a reason
Is easier to deal with
Than impulse.

With crocodile eyes.

2010-01-15T10:11:00.003Z

We made the best
of a bad job
worse than before

By arresting
those bastards
who were cursing the war,

As the yes
men and actors
burst down the door,

We detested
our actions, but
first came the war.

WHISPERED.

2010-01-15T10:11:00.001Z

There’s truth in that man’s mouth,
Yes there is,
And it’s keeping open arms,
And it’s looking straight at me,
When all I have to give
Is failing in the sea,
That we filled
When we lost faith.

Which project?

2010-01-15T10:09:00.001Z

Where anything intended
To offend us
Will be synchronised
And sanitised,
And everyone who is
Anyone will be
Able to believe in
The relieving of the faith.

Where is our thinking?

2010-01-15T10:08:00.002Z

Knowing without doing,
Is worse than not
Knowing.
Doing without caring,
Is like staying but still
Going.
Caring without saying,
Is worse than not
Showing.
Saying without lying,
Is like reaping without
Sowing.

When vice is verse.

2010-01-15T10:08:00.001Z

If you should be accosted by
An accident along your way,
Sent with your perfume upon it
By persons of grand address,
Then do not fear for your repair,
As the lost possibilities of
Years past are with you.
Correct your recovery position
Before being air lifted,
And never complain about the
Assassins aim, as it is not theirs,
But the same as all employment:
To bring you to your knees before
Its reach.
Therefore out gain yourself in your
Affairs and reverse old intentions;
Not with violence or ignorance or
Cheap impersonations,
But with the words of those
Fallen before you,
And you will find
You never succumb to chance
Once you welcome choice.

Warm dawn.

2010-01-15T10:07:00.000Z

A listless day
That will not wake
Or furthermore refresh;
A restless night
About to take
The flavour from your flesh.
Intense events
Unfold themselves
In front of every face;
Tormented fences
Render them
Obscure and erased.

Vernal equinox.

2010-01-15T02:04:00.001Z

Whether attributed to the one or
The contributing mouths of many,
The words remain the same;
Confirming the unending desire of
The human spirit: the requirement
And acquiring of love and peace
And complete honesty.
Serene in theory and direct in
Action, when acted upon directly,
Affecting the soul perfectly,
Converting the mass correctly.

In spite of the divisions and schisms of
Fallen empires and risen,
This is the paragon that remains
At the heart of our society;
Shaping the seasonal calendar
According to conditions, incorporating
Pagan traditions and Christian revisions,
Whilst producing the same conclusions:
Respect for the next human being,
And the panacea of love;
At one with the world we are in
And the one following.

Vacancies.

2010-01-15T00:35:00.001Z

There will be no edge for me to cling to
Once emptiness dares me so far
As to balance myself against
The oncoming fray.

For I’ve lost more than profound things
And obtained lesser soundings,
Persuaded and convinced
By greater fakers.

Upon a child killer’s death.

2010-01-15T00:34:00.003Z

Apparently Lucifer was spotted
At your death bed side
With his glistening penis,
And putrid smile.

Grinding his hooves,
And grooming his pelt,
And licking his lips
At the state of events.

Until I am undone.

2010-01-15T00:34:00.001Z

If you want to move away,
But find the time and tide astray;
If you’re swallowing to stay,
Then that’s alright by me.

If the mirror’s clear to see,
Indicating apathy,
If it turns to look at me,
Then baby I’ll be free.

If a hopeful man appears,
Out of any hemisphere,
If his novelty adheres,
Baby I will cheer.

Funny frequent anger hides
Whenever you expose your mind,
Maybe I should show you mine,
Baby I will try.

Unbalanced books.

2010-01-15T00:33:00.000Z

If the fail safe tower
Should fall then how are
We to mount the surrounding
Walls to secure our safety.
Bring other place debris,
Left over from every
Known recess, to shore up
The high vaulted cave in?
Or allow it to settle in situ
Without any rituals
Designed to improve the
Defence of our saving.

Turning riled.

2010-01-15T00:32:00.004Z

Fermenting processes aside,
It’s good to notice
The stages changing
In recognition of the
Initial prescription.

Preventing words colliding
And strengthening
The arrangements,
Before presenting
Their destruction.

Trials by error.

2010-01-15T00:32:00.003Z

I tried,
But the effort was forlorn,
As the prone outline on
The brand new bedroom carpet testified to.

I tried again,
This time with a polythene sheet
Beneath and about me,
And, although the result was the same,
At least the soft furnishings were saved.

I tried somewhere else,
But the conclusion only confirmed
That it didn’t really matter where
I was for my defeat to be planted.

I tried whilst moving,
But it finished as before,
And with a quite unnerving jolt,
And not only was I broken, but
So were parts of the people who had
To free me from the wreckage.

I stopped trying,
And was relieved when I
Settled to have the same
Silhouette as everyone else.

Treasure buries.

2010-01-15T00:32:00.001Z

So far
As our radar
Is further,
Our fortunes
Will chart.

And fast
As we forecast
Its compass,
Our contract
Will last.

As long
As we belong
To someone,
Then summer
Will come.

And soon
As we taste
Its costume,
Our coarseness
Will swoon.

Train set.

2010-01-15T00:30:00.000Z

The light at the end of the tunnel has gone out,
and now there are only the seamless over coated
clothes of night. No surface available for a shadow
to show against, or indication that one could ever
arise inside this funeral suited place, where even
an undertaker would wear white cotton below his
neck and not this coarse uncoloured Melton cloth.

I touch my skin a little to see if it will bristle under
my fingertips, and it tells me that I am still here and
not fallen from myself on the way inside this funnel;
for I do not know any more which track I’m on, or
what road goes where, as the throat hole ahead has
choked before its time and all ways seem the same.

Behind I know begins beyond my ears, but only
when I turn, and ahead is usually gauged correctly,
but not now, or I imagine ever, as my tinder has
been dampened in the dark and no spark will take
there again or lamp lend itself for the drying;
therefore I must trawl along what buckled rails
support my gravity the best and find their inevitable
end without life’s illuminations to guide me.

Tour de force.

2010-01-15T00:29:00.001Z

The blowing wind
Is an awkward thing,
As it is always in the same place:
I rode anti-clockwise,
Then clockwise twice,
And it was still there in my face.

Tomorrow’s life today.

2010-01-14T21:20:00.003Z

Unable to deal with the comfort
Of a blade, or application of a needle
Upon the compass of my soul;
Blood tests or opiates injected,
With the best of most other invasions
Penetrating to the bone.
Tomorrow’s mass inspected
And samples from all angles taken,
Composing the complete picture;
Left in the right place in order
To approximate the expected destination,
And probably too soon.

Together.

2010-01-14T21:20:00.001Z

As long as none of us are sickly,
And times’ turn is quick we’ll
Be fine.

And the meagerness of wick light
Will be all we’ll need to stick tight
And combine.

Toby.

2010-01-14T21:19:00.001Z

......My little slender thing
Gone round with food and other
Sustenance unable to be shaken off,
And thus adopted.
......More faithful than the grateful
Souls whose liberation from arrest
Was wrought by strangers from
Across the worlds extent,
......And sweeter than completion
Driven by the labour of uneven
Creatures once unknown, but
Now at work as one;
......Wiser than the open eyes of
Age old sages who scorn
Sleep in awe of knowledge
Learned in lieu of night,
......And more beautiful than youth in all
Its glory and acclaim before the
Passing days conspire to crack
Its transient perfection,
......Though wearier than either of us
Thought possible before we let him in
The middle to expand in all expedience,
And separate our pallet space.

Tobogganing.

2010-01-14T21:18:00.001Z

Dysfunction is endemic;
Heads smashing well
Before feet first rushed in.
Convention problematic,
Spread evenly
Across the tops remaining.

To let.

2010-01-14T21:05:00.006Z

When.......age...........as............my
I..........Craven........mixing........hand
have.......ideologies....of............I
come.......shall.........the...........will
to.........be............species.......lay
my.........ripped........has...........waste
senses.....from..........not...........the
and........their.........succeeded.....human
realised...foundations,..in............race
that.......stripped......creating......and
my.........of............a.............make
tolerance..praise........peaceful......vacant
benefits...and...........coexistence...this
no.........returned......And...........place
one,.......to............if............once
I..........their.........this..........again.
will.......homelands,....is............Apparently
rise.......whilst........not...........the
and........all...........agreed,.......planet
make.......peoples.......then..........is
known......will..........with..........wetting
the........be............one...........itself
error......repatriated...sweet.........in
of.........to............wave..........grand
my.........theirs,.......of............anticipation.

Topped.

2010-01-14T21:05:00.001Z

Is love natural in the natural world, or reserved
For those fit to ask, and therefore is the
Loss of such a loss to us alone or felt
By all involved in one life’s course.
Are the things spinning in the wild aware of
Why they do so and what does with them,
Or are they simply automated for
Their birth and life and death.
If so then the struggle of my life’s battle
With the void of this world’s bubble
Should have burst it years ago
And set me bustling free.

Tip.

2010-01-14T21:04:00.003Z

He wouldn’t even hold
His mother’s smoke damaged hands,
Not that any fire had flicked by her
And carried off a finger, or raised
Unearned blisters or strands of
Ash lingered; only tobacco stains
Kissed her and its stink pissed there,
And her hands held the rumours of death;
The blooms that took breath from
The charnel house gardens of want.

Time’s house declaration.

2010-01-14T21:04:00.001Z

As your gaze flicks through
the windows of drawing rooms
in Bayswater, or similar views,
you realise that the occupants
are so far removed from the
tribes behind the terraced streets
as to be almost a different species.

It’s not their fault, of course, or
anyone’s, it’s simply their careworn
brick that has been overestimated
for centuries – a formula’s conclusion –
presented from the front of the room
by people who could for those who
best understood.

But time has taken itself seriously
enough of late to re-evaluate these ends,
and modify them accordingly, and though
mediocrity has shown its loathsome face,
it has not entirely replaced the past,
and therefore hope is sustained that
common sense will still find room for all.

Time goes sideways somedays.

2010-01-14T21:03:00.002Z

The steeper sides
Of deepest dreams
Informed your morning.

Winding hours
Found you wanting
Afternoon too soon.

Horse race ends
And tea beginnings
Hiccoughed the evening.

Old star skies
Dispatched the day
And praised obliquely.

Throughout the year.

2010-01-14T21:03:00.001Z

Can you hurry
Yet move very
Smart,
Though still
Stay
Tuned;
To fly
As trust
Kept tender,
Flocked over
Known wonder
We enter.

Through the tubes.

2010-01-14T20:08:00.002Z

I ate it in my head
When I first heard it,
And said it with my head
When I worded it;
Now it’s gone out of my head
To be asserted
And has left my head a residence
More sturdy.

Three strikes ago.

2010-01-14T20:08:00.001Z

The start of the beginning,
And eye of the beginning,
And finish of the beginning.

The first part of the middle,
And pivot of the middle,
And last bit of the middle.

The coming of the end,
And centre of the end,
And going of the end.

Those c***s next door.

2010-01-14T20:07:00.000Z

Wherever they are
They’ve not been there long,
As the coffee is warm,
And the oven’s still on.

There are clothes on the floor,
And a bed full of sheets,
But when you look close
There is nothing you’d keep.

He took her for a fool as well,
Spending the dwelling’s cost.
Returned home to Sicily
And left her rather lost.

She took turns around the town,
And came back in one piece;
Found the bottom of a bottle
And watched its depth increase.

They know, they do.

2010-01-14T20:06:00.002Z

They say some days
Are cursed;
These days
Our ways
Are worse.

Then.

2010-01-14T20:06:00.001Z

Then
Let us dismiss our defence
And hasten the end.

And then
Let us trace every friend
And make our amends.

And then
Let the journey commence
And complete our repentance.

The theory of umbrellativity.

2010-01-14T20:05:00.002Z

If I see her
I will know her;
If I don’t see her
She’s not here.
It she’s not here
I can’t show her
What I’d do here
For her.

The road show.

2010-01-14T20:05:00.001Z

Darkness and light
Follow you down;
Down to the end, my friend.
Day and the night
Circle around;
Round to the end, again.

They think they know you,
But what do they know?
What do they say?
To your face.

The young and the old
Protect your path,
Up to the only road.
Body and soul
Together laugh,
As you ascend your throne.

They think they own you,
But what do they own?
What do they sell?
To themselves.

The pantry man can.

2010-01-14T20:04:00.001Z

He didn’t realise
That the extraordinary life
He thought reserved for the finest
Was just as likely
To materialise
In front of him and
Refer to him in the highest.
For he was a confidence
Kind of person at his most virtuous,
But introverted at his worst,
And just as the ill served
Will never get on with us,
So the well versed will nurture us.

The only known.

2010-01-14T20:02:00.000Z

Fortune tellers leave little to chance, and even
Less to the damaged hands of fate; discussed
With neither, immune to both, discriminating
Only towards their own affairs. Acclimated to the
Laws of reality, which seldom deal with the spoils
Of probability, and dismiss the certainty of
Ambivalence as easily as they efface the soothsayers’
Windings. And with acknowledgement of ages lost,
And tools used for deception, existence leaves the
Certitudes of the yet to come to the interests of
Wagers made, and therefore the canvassers of
Things unformed have time to spare for details
Generally requested, and profiting the most;
Allowing glimpses generic to the breed, whilst
Distracting people from specifics. Not ideal for the
Purchaser, but then they do not deserve to be
Served otherwise if they seek their fate and faith in
Shaded lenses instead of eyes more vitreous. What
To understand other than oneself can one go
For; endeavor passing or future poison cannot hope
To find a splinter to exploit for incubation once left
In no doubt about their relative positions. Only those
Who do not trust their own auguries suffer the words
Of sages for their faineance; reliant upon the vanity
Of bought things from the worn mouths of widows
Withholding the wealth of debt from deaths
Inevitable sweep.

The obvious in us.

2010-01-14T20:01:00.000Z

The Bitterest greetings between us,
And conjuring acts confirming the facts
Of fleeting reactions once passed;
Transferring from me and occurring to
You and percipient only because of
Awareness once shared and even.
Bowed onto knees onto crossed limbs
To seat before all recognition has warded
Our rational champions to arms;
For silence’s cause and the balance of peace,
And the need to be left well alone until
Ease can attend to our proceeds once more,
And speech replace what it consumes.

The most loved one among us.

2010-01-14T19:51:00.002Z

So there you have an old glass blower’s window,
And behind a man who writes for love’s relief;
He hasn’t got a folder or a binder,
But would love to leave his words for all to see.

He passes days with well known rub and stone
For images that far outreach his mise;
A hurried glance appears to be his own,
But he scolds himself as he has no replies.

He loathes the opportunities of vagueness,
Chances prompted by a day in bed,
Things he can achieve with less awareness,
Imprinted in his own rolled worried head.

And as his paper separates along the edge,
And a screen appears to help him with his sight,
He no longer needs the words his mind has fetched,
As his fingers dance around the keys all night.

And however straight it seems when it is said,
And however in reality it’s not,
A greater string of skin could not instead
Replace the life his filigree has wrought.

The most beautiful day of the year.

2010-01-14T19:51:00.001Z

The most beautiful day of the year,
Old age and childhood cheers,
Kindly with nothing to fear.

The most beautiful day of the year,
A heightened atmosphere,
Oh how I wish you were here.

They say that you are
An infinite lover,
But there’s no sensual energy in the air,
No immortality hidden there;
Pessimism is everywhere,
Optimism please take a chair
Before you collapse
Of old age.

The most beautiful day of the year,
And I am sitting here
Waiting for night to appear.

The millennium after.

2010-01-14T19:50:00.000Z

We had to get the
Carpet up with a
Wallpaper scraper,
And any number of hours,
Because of the millennium.

Everyone was tidal swept
In alcohol and
Paper cups,
And cigarettes lost
Long before a light arrived.

But the guests agreed
That the evening was
Greeted well and heartily,
Though once it flared after midnight
They left rather sharply,

Leaving us alone with
Differently coloured eyes,
And hoping the new century
Would bring more money flowing
Than the previous night’s showboating had sunk.

The lock and the key.

2010-01-14T19:49:00.000Z

More than I could, but less than I thought,
More than I should, but less than I ought.
More than a beer, but less than a barrel,
More than is clear, but less than untrammeled.
..More than two fingers, but less than a fist,
..More than a binger, but less than jaundiced.
..More than a grape, but less than a vine,
..More than mistakes, but less than defined.
More than a cocktail, but less than a party,
More than regaled, but less than is hearty.
More than the spirit, but less than the soul,
More than is curried, but less than extolled.
..More than the Germans, but less than the French,
..More than concerning, but less than entrenched.
..More than the body, but less than the brain,
..More than a hobby, but less than a game.
More than is sober, but less than is drunk,
More than the lonely, but less than the sunk.
More than the shaken, but less than the stirred,
More than is aching, but less than interred.
..More than the employed, but less than the not,
..More than the android, less than the robot.
..More than the driven, but less than the trying,
..More than the living, but less than the dieing,
And more than is raw then, but less than is cooked,
And the reason we’re all truly fucked .

The last diet.

2010-01-14T19:48:00.002Z

The eating act assailed the
Lungs performance for the last time.

Breath begot itself no heir to
Free its process from blockade.

Life received the glimpses of
Its former self in instances arrayed.

Death embraced as greedily as
Appetite had beckoned in the first place.

The intruder triangle.

2010-01-14T19:48:00.001Z

The great British pubic region
Smells like a zoo floor,
And contains more creatures
Than an African shore.

The gold ghost.

2010-01-14T19:47:00.001Z

We sat there and pissed in the dirt;
Hoping that our waste would find
Its way from us and escape this place,
As we never would.

For a channel or gully to the gutter
Somewhere near the centre of the main
Room, that ran beneath the walls
And spilled into the sea.

Looked over by weapons of alien
Design, able to shoot fire and rock
Further than any volcano known to
Our elders and sires.

Welcoming only those tall boats
That fly the right colours, and that
Leave with their midriffs full of us to
Berths beyond the sea.

Never to know anything else of our
Land or its handlers mining out more
Than us and finding less of themselves
In the process.

The DL.

2010-01-14T19:46:00.003Z

Walking sticks
Convinced of more
Than falling down
Prevention,
Especially when
Younger hands
Pursue their old
Attention.

The best went on.

2010-01-14T19:46:00.001Z

Up straight on a chair
At the start of a new year.
I would be nowhere if
I didn’t
Have
You
Here.

I would be incomplete
If I didn’t have you to hear me,
And could not compete if
I had to
Bellow
Yearly
Alone.

Laid out on a board
At the end of an old year.
Man I feel ignored as
I don’t
Have
You
Here.

The Aussie keeper.

2010-01-14T19:44:00.000Z

He looked like
He should have been
Standing in
The outback
Catching wombats,
With a crate of golden liquid
And a cork hat,
Instead of creeping
Near the wicket
In the hope of picking
Snicks up off of pommies.

Test matched and passed.

2010-01-14T18:44:00.002Z

And if your road never
Follows its nose then the
End of your line will be
Further than mine, you’ll see.
And when you meet me there
I will be free of care
For I will have held fast
Against your skill, at last.

In the time between
The finding and the losing,
There must be some choosing,
Or the point will bruise you.
Incomplete without the
Interest slowly waning,
There must be some training,
Or the game will cost you.

Terrestrial time.

2010-01-14T18:44:00.001Z

When you realize you are more nervous
About meeting your partner’s
Kids than their parents,
Then you know you’re older than you thought.

Terreplein.

2010-01-14T18:43:00.000Z

Avow all hollowness its due
But do not allow it outside.
Excavate and partition space
To separate its creeping shape.
Bore and fill the cavities until level,
Inside what mouth of expanse remains.
Contain the distance between your words
And contagion heard;
Munitions for your tongue’s use
In the cause of silence.

Tallied up wrong.

2010-01-14T18:42:00.000Z

From the worlds he moved in
And the moods he made,
Not all approved him,
Or were slightly saved.
For the times he left us,
And the temperance lost,
We bear the worst of
Accountable cost.

Sweet antedates.

2010-01-14T18:41:00.002Z

Two score walked by,
as time stole one back,
whilst those full of holes
carried only those home
who slipped from its hold.

Fuming in all forms
of fright, either staged
or arranged in low light,
and complimented by fellows
with hands out of sight.

Told of bells ringing a
mournful amount, but
ignored in the wake of the
sound of the morning crowd
handling awards;

For on and for back and two
Sides, unremarkably lean,
in-between all the splendor
of scenery rendered as though
from the original trough.

Sward fallen.

2010-01-14T18:41:00.001Z

When I used to be alive
I wondered where I was.
On amber moments I arrived
And left on verdant gloss.
And in the ochre meantime
I never came across,
An architecture worth the while
To have its name embossed,
Or show itself at least inclined
To bear a plaque of loss.

Suspect date a sport.

2010-01-14T18:40:00.001Z

Her belly dribbled over the
Waist band of her pants,
Wasted indeed;
Spilling craters
And hillocks of under used flesh
Over a shallow slung boundary,
Wound up mummy tight.
Peaking at first from the folds
Of her seated set piece, but
Once risen, rolling and
Sloshing to the sides, and falling
Over the touch line of her pitch.

Still.

2010-01-14T18:39:00.002Z

Day paled
Again;
Night felt alone.

Rain came
And went;
Sky smelted snow.

Dawn called
Alarmed;
Ground melt unknown.

Staying in all the time.

2010-01-14T18:39:00.001Z

If they’re trying to kill you,
And you know they’re trying to kill you,
And they know you know they’re trying to kill you,
Then they won’t park outside your house.
But if they do park outside your house,
And they know you know they’re trying to kill you,
And you know they’re trying to kill you,
Then they’re probably not trying to kill you.
But if they are trying to kill you,
And you know they’re trying to kill you,
And they know you know they’re trying to kill you,
Then they’ll park three streets down.
And if they do park three streets down,
And they know you know they’re trying to kill you,
And you know they’re trying to kill you,
Then they’ll try to kill you there.

Staving off dogs.

2010-01-14T18:37:00.000Z

What’s admirable,
In the main,
Is what restrains
That part
Of you
That whilst
Waiting at
Stations
For trains
Tempts you
To jump.

What’s missing
Is the manner
That handles
The side
Of me,
That once
Listened to
Often
Enough,
Invites me
To push.

Status quota.

2010-01-14T15:39:00.002Z

Sometimes the order is more unusual than the
Usual, less habitual than the regular and more
Discordant than consistent.

Sometimes it begins with a mouthful of coloured
Words accompanied by a bitten tongue and
Watered down resign,

Followed by a period of self reflection, and
recourse peppered with mistakes, made
bearable by aspects less gelatinous;

A short interlude is included here to clear
The palate and make ready a dessert
Worth thirsting for:

The cherry on the icing on the berg submerged
Unseen, until rented out from underneath and
Left to blubber openly about town;

I think it’s about time I placed this list upon
your range and watch, with salivation,
what can be mustered.

Standard These Days.

2010-01-14T15:39:00.001Z

Of what is this Chlamydia Sage
Of whom so much is made?
Of where are they around?
Of why said so profound?
Of how made so abject?
Of when to happen next?

Stampeding Her(o)ds.

2010-01-14T15:38:00.001Z

There are more of us
Than there are of them,
But they’ve got all the guns;
We are morally right,
But they’re more prepared,
As they’re killing first born sons.

Square.

2010-01-14T15:37:00.000Z

The world is round,
You can’t fall off;
Tonight,
I might.

Oh open ending,
Ah light me up,
Love’s not for renting
With beggar cup,
But I do,
So you roll me out.

Sparing Hemingbrough.

2010-01-14T15:36:00.002Z

Slow down as you approach the bend
And don’t run down the child,
In case you cannot see them move
You’ll have to watch the sky.
You’re just about upon them,
And still there’s nothing there;
The sign was clear in what it said,
Slow down and children spare.

Speakership.

2010-01-14T15:36:00.001Z

When I spoke,
Speech broke,
And breached folk.

A teacher choked,
And reached provoked
Beneath my cloak.

He freed his yoke,
Once leached of quotes,
And speech once more awoke.

(Small take aways.)

2010-01-14T15:35:00.000Z

All sorrow gone today,
With morning’s underlay
And afternoon’s brocade
Enclosing.

For horror and affray,
Once having had their say,
Have been swept and overlaid
By those opposing.

Small adds.

2010-01-14T15:34:00.000Z

I bought a bag of nails for sale,
But they were not what I expected,
Cut from the smallest finger tips,
By teeth somewhat infected.

I left them in their bag too long,
Where they were desiccated,
And so was forced to sell them on,
To the less masticated.

Slipping when I wake.

2010-01-14T15:32:00.001Z

The truth of the issue,
However overlooked
By the day’s duties,
Keeps banging on my anvil,
And hemorrhaging home
Its message.

The proof of the matter
Is what greets me
Every evening when
Everything has settled still,
And its surface foams
In homage.

Sleep less sweet aged.

2010-01-14T15:31:00.001Z

As good
As old,
And twice
As bright,
As older
Souls
Need less
Of night.

Slaloms.

2010-01-14T15:10:00.000Z

You say baby are we drifting?
I say maybe just the snow is shifting.
You’re not impressed, I don’t know why,
And readdress the things you’re words imply.
You counterpoint with something worse,
But I anoint my own words with more sense.

If I’m slipping
Down the slide,
Will you take
The other side?
If I’m tripping
At the end,
Will you help me
Round again?

You say you will take no more,
And pick until you’re through the door,
And when the road is all there is,
Maybe then you’ll realise,
That even though we’re not complete,
We’re not as broken as the street.

Siteing.

2010-01-14T13:43:00.002Z

This morning made its one
And only use of me:
Introducing you to it
Before ushering me out,
And taking you along to its
Reunion with the afternoon
To camp down for a while.

You were excused when
The evening declined your allure
In favour of the night’s which rekindled
Its romance with morning again
Once dusk was long gone and
Other stray hours passed over.
As breathing wears us out inside
The less bilious survive.

Singularity.

2010-01-14T13:43:00.001Z

Time will tell
We’re told,
And to be,
Is to have and to behold
A fair way to
An even
Eventuality,
That is single
And integral
To the cause,

And over then
To pause,
And sport,
For the sake of taking up
An allegiance
To a region
Of neutrality,
That is aural
And constructive
To a fault.

Simon’s best advice.

2010-01-14T13:42:00.002Z

When you hit blood
You know it’s no good,
And the wiping should
Stop right away.

Shot impetus.

2010-01-14T13:42:00.001Z

Which is stronger,
the string or the bow?
And does it affect the arrow?

Which is longer,
the spring or the fall?
And does in-between mean fuck all?

Shock absorbed.

2010-01-14T13:41:00.001Z

People in the
Open flew away,
Whilst those inside alighted.

Souls were left
Defenceless,
As skin and bone ignited.

Minds were found
In pieces,
As life and death collided.

Spirits found
A way to see,
As day and night subsided.

Sex in the head.

2010-01-14T13:40:00.002Z

Take them poppers,
And use my knob
As a gob stopper.

Serendipity strikes again.

2010-01-14T13:40:00.001Z

How lucky I am
To be here with her;
Me being malign
And immersed.

How fated she is
To see no other,
And be so consigned
To my curse.

Self imposed no go phone area.

2010-01-14T13:39:00.002Z

Sandy pavements and dusty coves
beyond the grove we came from.
Handy strips of rusting clothes
beside the stone we chafed upon.
Cloudy skies and paper lanes
in a domain that ended.
Dowdy men and well draped ladies
dissolved for their descended.

Self employed.

2010-01-14T13:39:00.001Z

He sold his semen on the street
Like sherbet on a stick,
A babe in every bag,
Come quick.

But when approached and told
The error of his ways,
He pulled his sack off
In dismay.

And though exposed himself,
He did not quite develop,
And his bagman pitch
Dried up.

Second wind wound.

2010-01-14T13:38:00.001Z

The branching passageways closed in
Around their dividing point, demanding
Of us a hastened choice; their disappearance
Doing nothing for our apprehension and rather
Dampening our eagerness to choose, which
Had not been that great at the outset, and
Less upon arriving here. Unfortunately, having
Been affronted so, we were minded to remember
The previous route taken and its travails, which
Should have prevented our arrival here.

Sans sheriff.

2010-01-14T13:36:00.001Z

I found a time machine
on the floor in front of me;
it had always been there but
had not realized it was wanted.
I wanted it; I needed it, to go back
to a point in the past and undo an
Action - a many pointed past at that -
with the safety pin that attached its
star to my chest as the point in question.
It was this pin that I had opened causing
all its fine degrees to defile their course,
and proceed through multiple layers
of thin air, crashing spectacularly.
Peaks once charged with a possibility’s
blessing troughed as soon as freed,
sluicing down every vale, and I never did
learn to swim. I asked the machine to
wake and it wagged eagerly at me,
awaiting my request – there please –
and it was off. I stepped into the
unfinished living room of my first
house and saw me sleeping on a
camp bed, where I suffocated
myself immediately. I dumped
my body miles away and took
its place, and to this day
I’ve no regrets, as the
Sheriff’s not been seen.

Routers.

2010-01-14T13:35:00.002Z

I’ll field an evening visit
Or two from the curfew crew
Before I go on my way,
But there are few facts
To be gleaned from reading
Their take on history.

Though anyone who has done so much
With their looks, and what looks,
Should be listened to at least once,
But then shifted along I must be
Before being drawn by
More performance.

They cannot hammer a hole in
My armour with their formula,
Or preference pick,
As caterpillar-tracked are my feet,
And reinforced steel is unwound
Around most of my hide.

But they’ll take no referrals
From me, and it’s me they’re
Referring to wholly,
When they say I am always
The same as my brother, regardless
Of whether or not they enroll me.

Rounders.

2010-01-14T13:35:00.001Z

The rich get richer,
And the poor
Ensure
They do.

The pitch and the pitcher,
And much more
Pre war
Than new.

Roman times new.

2010-01-14T13:34:00.001Z

The auction for
Yorkshire’s soul
Was organised by
Southerners, of course;
Though you had to
Test the story’s
Inconsistency
Against its
Insistence
In order to see how
It could possibly
Survive translation.
Undoubtedly it would,
If words used
Complimented those
Bought at bargain
Prices, set, incidentally,
By the purchaser,
In case the indigenous
Dialect confused.
N’er mind eh, four beers cock.

Rolled stone.

2010-01-14T13:33:00.002Z

Letter by letter by
Word by space by line
By inconclusive line, and left
By right by rhyme, if rhyme applies.
Unstoppable sentences with
Punctuation dropped altogether,
Attached to paragraphs on
Pages turned and chaptered.
Parts divided equally and
Surrounded by introductions
And conclusions - pros and epilogues.
Bound on three sides by
Front and back and spinal
Material, covered in colours
With untold corrections, pixel
By manipulated pixel, until full.
Then thrown towards an agent or
Paraded around the internet to
Be forced upon uninterested masses;
Promoted, prostituted, vended in
Vain until reduced to resting in
The bargain bucket, two for one
Book club, superstore loss leader,
Market hall trader, car boot sale.
Then started all over again at the
Foot of a steeper hill.

Righteous beggars this way.

2010-01-14T13:33:00.001Z

You’ll pray,
When your time is near
You’ll pray,
Though you don’t believe
You’ll pray,
Whilst your last breath keeps
You’ll pray,
Unsure of what will follow
You’ll pray,
And urgent for mercy,
You’ll pray.

Refugee collection.

2010-01-14T13:32:00.000Z

You were dropped off on a
charity shop door step in a
black bin bag addressed to
the refuse collectors;
apparently left at that hovel
of benevolence by mistake.

Inside with you was the waste
of your mother, whore, user,
who appeared old enough to
bleed. Her mind must have
been full of fixes as her
details were amongst the
grease and daub of a hurried
delivery; discarded teenage clothing,
burned and busted cans, bloodied
wipes of bits, and empty bottles of
everyday tablets obviously stolen
too quickly from the pill facility
a street away.

The charity shop kept you until the
right price was offered, and you
were handed over with a machine
turned wooden carving, a faulty
clock restarted and a water colour print.
Raised as a stranger to the world
you were thrown from, and fallen
on recycled fields.

Reasonable response.

2010-01-14T13:31:00.000Z

Ill advised,
But skilled
At filling us with fear;
As much as years beyond,
And days to come.

Vilified,
But still
As villainous as
All those lies told
All those years ago.

Until capsized,
We’ll spill
Our willingness to survive;
As much as we excelled at war,
And its alternative’s accord.

Reality checked.

2010-01-14T13:28:00.000Z

What club were you at first
A member of?
What union of finest acolytes
Stood tall for our welfare?
What collective sought your
Name to compliment it?
What stable did our fate
Find itself grateful to?

What minds of writers, poets,
Artists, lords and ladies thought
Nothing of themselves to save us?
Whilst labour done with thought
Rolled belly over and its trusting
Followers took banners overhead
Instead of arms, leaving their
evolution in the hands of fools.

Radical surgery.

2010-01-14T02:30:00.002Z

When first we met
Your head had yet
To grow.

When next aligned
You mind had much
To know.

When further joined
Your brain had coined
Its flow.

When lastly seen
Your skull had been
Hollowed.

Queerer than you could think.

2010-01-14T02:30:00.001Z

Cheered up by the sky’s appearance
In the midst of clouds adrift;
Queerer than the unseen clearing
Was the detail of the rift:

Harder than a diamond’s sparkle,
Farther than the sun’s last turn,
Sharper than a harpoon darting,
Worthier than purses earned,

Tenderly in pieces splendid,
Folding distances untold,
Endlessly in time suspended,
Older than the world’s patrol.

Putty woman.

2010-01-14T02:29:00.000Z

Somebody gave her
A good going over,
Which didn’t begin to
Account for the facts,
For as somebody said,
She looked more of a mess
Before knuckles had
Left their remarks.

Punt.

2010-01-14T02:28:00.005Z

Oh the time is near, is very dear,
I can tell,
How the book is betting, my body’s sweating,
decibels.
Get the people next door, to mind my floor and
stairwell,
Fold my hair into place, out of my face,
as it gels.

I’ve upturned the big bed, banging my head,
nothing found,
Behind the wallpaper, and the drapes there,
hanging down.
In the piles of new shoes, cotton old blues,
lying round,
And so the stub forsaken, I’m mistaken,
for a clown.

Please don’t open the door, I feel quite sore,
in the light.
Hide my head in a bag; take in a long drag ‘til
air tight.
Collapsing near the wiring, wake up perspiring,
in the night,
I don’t gage no more now, forgotten quite how
to do it right.