Act

Act
Be quick
Do like
Practice makes
Don't think
Be ready
If this is advice
You failed

My Loss

you don't try hard for the lines, the marks, the notes

that slip, that glaze, that perfect choux

because the ego is gone and that means death

(approach friend etc)

Another fishy Chelsea Monday

among the parrots and art fair paraphernalia

The Geography Trips

and every careful following of care,

be it Vezey to the haystack or

a magnanimous offer of assistance in tyre fixing

(how you gamed me)

Im sorry for being a joyless bastard

Hats off to Richard Williams..

Who only sits here - too large -

unbeknown to mist.

Probably under a tree

Probably got my teenagers dancing tonight

Probably drove to Nottingham to make spaghetti

Probably one of a few possible folk

I missed.

it doesn't matter what marks you put on paper - sorry

remember when I stole his gun and ran around ?
it's all in the hips
I am shania...

Shakira Shakira - oh baby when you talk like that...

the only time i drank rum was when Cody bought it

it's just not important - and neither are your pictures

and picturings

you fucking picturer

---

a death and some old flyers

the juxtaposition of ephemera

is not so inappropriate

time, by vantage, moves

without and with us.

---

God, that's so deep dad.

----

Moments of friendship in life.

all there is.

So While You Point Your Fingers Someone Else is Judging You

Merry Christmas My Men
and Love to all the ladies
Single bed shelters
bus stop bliss

Is this love that am feel in?
Ah, Wanna Know.,
Ah, Jah, The Googley
Peter Bonetti the cat

Geoffrey Boycott
and god. No competition.

Geoffrey wins.
Save us a bit of bacon rind
For dem Birds
compost carriers
and shiny hats

rule de world
and dem love cats.

Jess Glynn: £2.50

Please -
and the words come in
all undressed
like a cliche
confessed,

all alone. cliched...naked.

and if nakedness weren't enough
it's waistline is wider
than the truth
and clichés inside her

all the skinny world waits
soul less for...
a song? Hope?
maybe we need a singalong?
Nope. That'll be two pounds fifty please...

Sleep Easy

CPC

I am sorry not to have got productively lost in the old language but this is all I can see:

PC PC PC PC PC PC PC PC PC PC PC PC PC PC PC PC PC PC PC PC PC PC PC PC

what you have forgotten you don't need

J'Accuse

passata

well tip my wooly hat
and make me macaroni
single cream with pork
and  mascarpone

Use good tomatoes

St Viton and the Syrian Diaspora: Google Translates...

Did the wind mind and
did your daughters of the sea
pay for the grapes left over from this
invasion or that - bombing campaign is too harsh
a beauty to comprehend - occupation?

Did your fully trained sales agents have literally years of experience
when you dished out the kalashnikovs from the back of your Renault Traffics and Humbies?

Did the questions that never got asked matter to any of your descendants
when we tasted the unintended bonus of wine over centuries
of blue sea and mafia movies?

Oh, Sicily, Alex Polizzi is so POETIC...
and how she loves your ceramics.
Go to the north western tip and its traditional fishing villages

Still African. One road in and one road out.
Cous cous everywhere.

Garlic, onion Cinnamon and flakes of local fish -

utterly delicious St Viton.

No Syrian refugees were mentioned in the making of this poem.

Farcinoff

there was nothing new to be said
at the moment of infarction all words stopped
as they do and all was clear: You farkin infarction

Infarc off you farkin fark.

In fact all infarctions farked

Off they went far kingly and well farked.

Off.

The Magic Bomb

I was outside. There was a flash and then a noise which made everything silent.
Then I was inside. We were all together and no-one was lost or scared. Colours
were so vivid and each of us had no distance we did not want and space in abundance.

Homes were created anywhere - in our minds and physical need and suffering were gone.

It had once been Waterloo station where the dirty old river kept rolling, in to the sun.

But now, the sun had come to the river and all was one. A boat, a sky-ride a swim in the depths of the sweet Thames. Anything you want  forever. We promised you paradise and we promised you damnation. In the wake of our magic bombe - you can choose either. Anytime and forever.

Never be stuck for choice again. never live in fear of eternal damnation or seek eternal salvation. you can have either with one of our magic bombs. Thank you driver, for bringing us here.

Kings 4:29

1 Kings 4:29And God gave Solomon wisdom and understanding exceeding much, and largeness of heart, even as the sand that is on the sea shore.

---

The image is very expressive. On the coast both of Palestine and Egypt — the regions with which the Bible writers were most familiar — the sand is unusually abundant. All the way from the delta of the Nile to the most northern point of Syria, a vast sandy tract, penetrating inland here and there from the shore-line fringes the Mediterranean, and separates between the green cultivated fields and the blue waters of the sea. The floor of the desert, which encompasses the Holy Land on the south and east, although usually composed of other materials, has nevertheless in a few places large belts of deep sand. drifts, like those which may be seen on the western bank of the Nile. Let the traveller stand on the seashore near Gaza, where, far as the eye can reach north and south, the tawny sand-hills swell and shoal as if imitating the rolling of the waves. Let him take up a handful of the sand and try to count its grains as they trickle through his fingers, and he will give up the task in despair ere he has counted a twentieth part. Let him try to imagine how many handfuls there are in even one heap beside him, and his imagination will be speedily overpowered. And if he endeavours further to form some conception of the quantity that makes up the shore of a single bay, or the floor of a single desert, the mind utterly collapses under the unequal burden. In analysing it more closely, the image indicates not only the vast but also the varied range of Solomon's wisdom; not only the quantity but also the quality of the largeness of his heart. Nothing, at first sight, looks more uniform and monotonous than a heap of sand. It seems barren and uninteresting to the last degree; and yet examine carefully a small portion of the sand, and you will be struck with the immense variety which it contains. No two particles are the same in Size, shape, colour, or mineral character. No two grains have perhaps the same origin or the same history. A handful of sand is, in fact, a geological museum, composed of the remains of different rocks worn off or ground down by different agencies and at different periods. One grain has come from the granite rocks that almost throttle the Nile at the first cataract, out of which the earliest monuments of Egypt were carved — perhaps has itself formed part of some statue or obelisk that was old before history began. Another grain has been ground down from the marble hills of Greece that have yielded the precious material in which, by the sculptor's skill, the gods have come down to the earth in the likeness of men. A third has been disintegrated from the volcanic stone which the earliest builders of Italy have plied into their gigantic walls and massive tombs. Some of the particles have been washed down by streams from the precipices of the Alps or Apennines; others have been carried by the wind from the eruptions of Vesuvius and Etna; and others still have been ground from the dark northern headlands, those Sphinxes of the ocean against which the waves of the Atlantic — fugitives, all white and reeking, flying from some monster of the deep — hurl themselves with frantic fear. Frost and fire, glacier on mountain crest, and iceberg on Arctic shore, all these have been at work for untold ages to produce the individual grains of the handful of sand. We read in these sand-dunes, as distinctly as we see the tracks of ancient animals on the surface of sandstone slabs taken from the quarry, the evidence of many of the changes through which our earth has passed. We see in them the relics of old continents that have vanished completely — the sole memorials of ancient seas that seem mythical to all but the geologist. The earth is but a gigantic sand-glass for the computation of geological time, in which the sands are falling unremittingly; and which after long ages is turned upside down to expend what it has gained, and to gain what it has expended. Like this sand on the seashore, in its wonderful variety, was the largeness of heart which God bestowed upon Solomon; as a heap of sand, abundance of interest and enjoyment; a largeness of heart which would invest with its own charm the most desert place and the most familiar object — to which nothing that God had made would be common or unclean. Throughout the life of Solomon we see how richly he possessed this Divine gift; how wide was his culture — how deep was his interest in the world around him. God is willing to grant to every human being, in a degree proportioned to his nature and circumstances, what He bestowed upon Solomon. He has placed us in a large and wealthy place. He has given to us the whole creation for our inheritance, and made us the heirs of all the ages. The whole universe tends towards man as its centre and highest point. It finds in him its end and interpreter. Nature is translated in his mind into thought. All the sciences are only the humanising of the things of earth. We name and classify and study plants, and animals, and stones, and thus give our own life to them, and raise them by this association into fit companions for ourselves. The uses of the objects of nature are only their human relations. And all this is because God made the earth to be co-ordinate with man, and in its own degree humane. And just as He feeds our bodies with the treasures of every land and every sea, that we may have a wide and vigorous life, participant of all variety; so He wishes to feed our souls with intellectual food derived from all the objects which He has made, that we may interpret the mute symbolism of earth and sea and sky, and offer in rational conscious form, as the prests of creation, the silent, unconscious worship of nature. As the sand is formed on the seashore, so is the enlargement of heart, which is said to resemble it, acquired. Not in the quiet sheltered waters of the bay, by gentle process, is the sand deposited. It speaks of storm, of waste, and change. Its gain has come through loss. The sorrow or suffering that seems so useless and vain, contending with the hard rocky cause of it, fretting and fuming among the trying restraints of life is, as it were, removing from them lessons of faith, and patience, and love, which afterwards, when the sorrow has subsided and the suffering has become tranquil, will enrich and beautify the whole life. So is it with all enlargements both in the natural and human worlds; the increase in one direction is the result of decrease in a another, as the seashore acquires its sand by a process of continental disintegration. God's chastisements, which seem to limit our joys and to make our life poorer and meaner, are in reality designed to enlarge our hearts and to widen the bounds of our being. And so, throughout the history of Christendom, we find that communities tempted selfishly to confine to themselves their special blessings have been compelled, by external shocks and internal sufferings, to enlarge their bounds and make others partakers with them of their privileges. New ages of larger liberty, of wider vision, of purer faith, of more just and loving relationships between man and man, have been ushered in through periods of terror and pain! The hearts of men everywhere have been enlarged through their fears; and the storms and strifes of the world have been the pains of progress — the birth-pangs of grander liberties. The framework of Society, like the framework of Nature, is broken up from time to time, that out of the wreck may be formed the shore-line that limits the encroachments of evil, and the dry land of truth that lifts the level of life nearer heaven. The sand on the seashore is composed of small particles. It is vast in the aggregate, but the grains are individually minute; and so the largeness of heart, which resembles it, is made up of the fulfilment of little duties and the adorning of little occasions as they arise. The largeness of the Christian's heart is shown, not only by the comprehensiveness of its range of regard, but also by the minuteness of its interests and sympathies. His piety is proved, not by his conduct on great and exciting occasions, but by his conduct in ordinary circumstances. It requires less grace in reality to be a martyr for Christ on a public stage than to be kind and considerate in the familiar intercourse of domestic life, or to maintain a guileless integrity in the ordinary transactions of business. The Christianity that is faithful in that which is least is a more difficult Christianity than that which glows and triumphs on grand occasions. Little love can perform great actions; but it requires great love to present like little children small offerings — and to devote every moment and task of our life to God. A largeness of heart which thus attends to the smallest details of piety — to the little things in which love most powerfully shows itself, which recognises God habitually, and seeks constant opportunities to please Him, will never be oppressed with listlessness and ennui. Without this enlargement of heart we cannot appreciate the broad wide world of God s salvation. Without an enlargement of heart to place us, as it were, on higher ground, from whence our view can take in more and more of God's universe, our life will be centred in the mere spark that animates the body. We need that the grace of God should do for our hearts what the microscope does for our eyes — enlarging our vision so as to see new beauty and wonder in the most familiar objects. We have had moments when we obtained fleeting glimpses of this joy.

Plant Code Encryption Maggot

all creeping violets and other geni have form
mastectomies are not the only chocolate in the box
these locals eat nothing but potatoes and sprat

be veterinary

amniotic love lasts less than london cabs in leicester
square. All climbing walls have ears of steel and fibreglass
noses. Carry over and carry on you ramblers - all:

be veterinary

Buzz fly be go eat dot come flag red go stay pay less
per minute at last digital epic ping pongo dingodong
it is wrong and always has been to eat people

be veterinary

Performance Poetry

Vasectomies and hearng aids:

(loudly): "CUT"....................

Fagstep?

Take out these steps and dust them down
all they got you was an Alice In Wonderland circle from
a hard handed squaddie, who, maybe works on the roads now

His hands were harder than yours and you don't even have a cute face anymore.

I tried to tell you before you went out that all that happiness - or the satisfaction - would get you into trouble and then it did. Thank God you still have friends who've known building sites.

To be murdered before the eyes of a helpless 70 year old DJ would be ignominious in ways
only the most specialised would understand and god knows what they'd've said to you at the gates...

Exactly. Cheer down. Lighten up. Frown a little.

Job Done

they gave it up for music and a free electric band
my grandparents. People were so naive in the 1970's

said Jemima, who was working for one of the largest up and coming knowledge based groups in Cambridge when she made the observation in the context (in case you wondered) of a 3rd stage group interview when somebody asked her what she thought her two biggest faults were.

Interesting and not a little bit curious that she chose to list her grandparents as HER (number 1) fault and ' always looking to see if the path had been trodden when she was at school because she was in love with the postman. She used to leave small booby traps and try to infer 'knowledge' based on her findings...

The job? Marketing and Comms Officer with a fundraising 'second nod' in mind...

Why she chose to quote Albert Hammond when answering questions about her weaknesses - and choosing to pick on her grand folk in their paucity - will remain a mystery.

She got the job - despite her imperfections.

Oh, Jemima. You should've been in Playschool.

Arch, Square, Circle and...?

No More Strictly

Please, no more...
three shifts a month pays my car insurance she said...
she so heartbreaking when she talks like that

I've got a Florence trip and my tattoo - oh, its just lots of things add up..

but now, she's standing there warming herself by the council gas fire that we now own at the knock down thatch price of 65% off....

planning her life - and I'm paying for some of it but there's still just that little reliance

and the title music plays

and the weather girls dance

and the people at home vote

Keep me in?

and knowing this matters..

knowing this matters...

knowing how much this matters,

that this is nearly all and the best, the best

knowing... these times that were so many

these are the days and the hours and now

I'd just stay dumb to sit beside you love,

while you drive me somewhere - moan all you like -

just so you can have a drink - but mostly it's something less indulgent

because you are trying love and this generation - of yours -

its not easy. And you are just feeling a blind for of tiredness

as a price to pay for doing your best and you are. I watch. you do your best

So proudly.

Its raining in the street, Bleaker Street.

You moved past so much - I admire you. A kid. My kid.

I stand in admiration and hope that you are better than me and know..

You will need to be.

Thankyou Selina

These words Selina
These crisp, crunchy credible and creative words of Gods' Sip
Oh, Selina.

A head shaped like a banana was a thing to see
and one to be recovered from in more time than you gave me Selina,
in your most mid-wiferley way, when you affirmed:

"Well, you've got to have something to get out of bed for"

you know Toby Cauliflower?

Well, that was like the word for when it went too far

Caroline, all the Gods would say she's mighty fine...

Why are you such a twat?

I know you like to think your shit don't stink

But lean a little bit closer see, roses really smell like...


Superman vs wooly man of bat.

I got no till receipts.

(Whistles)

Shit, you get freaked at the sight of an ATM receipt


Sorry Miss Jackson.

Post-It Postie Posting Poems Blues

well you know Im a postie poem poster and I'm buzzing round your hive
yeah you know I'm a poem posting postie and i pedal that jump around jive
I'm a poem posting poet,
I can't see the words for their envelopes.

Well I stuck on a bad stamp, been unstuck at the corners of the queens head
Yeah you know I stuck on a bad stamp and unstuck the queen's corner head
i went round to see the coroner
but the coroner, you know, she was dead.

I been waiting in this reception office with its leatherette settee, potted palms
yeah Im waiting in this reception office, leatherette settee potted palms...
If I don't get to see dead letters
i'll be waiting forever in the book of Psalms

Well I told the roof thatcher, better cut off your sedge with a spar coat and set
yeah I told the roof thatcher, better cut off your sedge with a spar coat and set
but the roof thatcher told me:
I aint no climber, I just like to make bets.

Well base coat and barge board, brow course and biddle, the combed wheat cob
base coat and barge board, brow course and biddle, that combed wheat cob
I met a little roof rooster
his name was Bob.

Trickledown Man (Or Just Plain 'Anthony'?)

He sits, astride a table laid with plenty, million dollar suit, watch, cash and credit in wedges... One small coin falls from his overstuffed wallet into the hands of a hoard of huddled masses beneath the table..

"Clone me my lovely Liverpool Lou Gorm, my lovely liverpool lou.."

"These Iron men stand for all of us, forever worked on by time and tide. Not masters of the world but a part of it" Less of us than a head full of blood and more of us than just plain Anthony."

says Simon.

I don't know Simon. Do you? My mum says he's a tory.

The Conservative Party are Britains largest unincorporated association. The face of a liar needs a few years of rain and wind to work on his biggest fibs.

That may or may not have been how Anthony imagined the space our bodies inhabit. trickleDownman (registered trademark) inhabits the spaces we can only dream of - for us.

Thanks Trickledown Man.

Ruth Anthony is someone else.

Rob Anthony is someone else.

My cousin Anthony is my cousin Anthony.

Press Release ends unhappily.

Pointless Love Gestures

Who's not happy with anything?
Stop blowing your own carnyx.

mathematical averageness applied to words
and blurry eyed, squint at it and see something

wont do. We're booking train tickets and
our two hands are clapping like a cheap day return


baaaah!

What's A Thesaurus Daddy?

Use words: Take out a thesaurus if you like.
Imagine with a child continents and places
redolent and verdant and resonant with sounds
which will be alien but imaginable from the telly

Or books. Books would be better. use books.

"Is it a dinosaur?"

"No love, Its a book"

To Be Continued

The Elbow

all the children of the house are asleep
dishes dripped and dried
i cant because you asked me now
Speak.

Brilliant, stop, I hate, "oh no -
and even if I say that you wrote it down"


She gives me The Finger.
That is our relationship.

I said write not wrote and you have to write it down -
That, I said That.

Sucks thumb, twirls sleeping sheet: "Oi"...

"you're really irritating - people see this... a- hawwwwww..

You can get rid of it"

you should do this when i actually don't know - you should write it down so people know
what a stupid relationship" (I am)

So clever Liam - such a clever boy aren't you eh? hmmmmmm"

She pinches my ears:
"No.... (and I don't think you should write down what you did to that pig")

Cackling cracklin.

Distaster

down the street they walked or up, in earshot
of rats on the roof. A dead one landed close by.

Rapscallion said the two year old in her coat
and crossed the road while her father was distracted

13, 11, 4

"They disembarked in '45..."

Single party state, hezbollah on the Union Jack,
malnutrition, war on want, forgotten sons,
greaseproof paper.

Harmonism, Drug Shop Cowboy, Storefront Inventory
The Queen of Shots still washing pots and murder
to the mighty.

Meritocracies of Allahs', Socrates and
Martin Scorceses' latest blockbuster faltering
at cinemas.

Line them up one two three and shoot them down: The Bank Eye.
Comedy nights peter out in this windmill.
The grist list missed.

The Queen looks on, standing miraculously on boats
none can say she has not tried valiantly
None can say that.

No-one laughed, no-one smiled. there were too many faces
In the line, quiet desperation and bravely
waving goodbye.

A policy then, upon this, I do commission:
There will be a raft for us to float women
and children on.

Hope shall be secured by borrowing  at the base rate
The madness of printing our money, devolved
to these floaters.

We will learn to collaborate wisely with Gods
whom shall now and always be plural again,
Nike, Adidas....

T, T, I and P - there's someone watching over me.
Bumper stickers have been issued, but mainly
for long sight ease...

To the withered, we say: "Stick a needle in your eyee"
and die a natural death of wastage, debt, foreign
 aid and a bet...

Remembering surfaces, possible resistance,
All those times I patched you up and we played cards:
"Who's talking now?"

Thank God we are someone else as well as just this thing
The electrics, humming aloud: Cultural
Heritage guys...

Partnerships take on new meanings among denizens
Of the consumer drone, high dependency
Retail park lives.

We should all get some exercise, maybe join a gymn..
undertake to eat nuts and seeds and other
husk borne fruit foods.

Since lines in sand have been drawn and governing bibles,
which never ask forgiveness have been written,
stories have stopped

And conversation has all but turned to artlessness
as a way of ensuring that we never
hear the dead speak.

persistent he couldn't

i could ve skipped the ad
but i didn't
stayed at the door when the JV's
could've leave n'd

Hey Michael

"sit up straight "

and other words from beyond the grave

After Life

flies won't fly off
or mean what you meant to me.

Those Words..

and incantations
won't serve immigrants,
nations
or, for sheer be-devilment:

you.

Post Script?

No shoe horns were used in the making of this documentary.

marks Made

around our pink moon we coalesce
in death and in life and in more of less
all bets off, another certainty begins
and, widdershins, we make utterances -
and marks.

If a man died today to who I couldn't speak,
did poetry and pictures ask him when
and did he have the answers? and then,
courts and sparks?

the unknown might have seemed obvious
and to be polite was trite and doggerel, blues
blue suede shoes, the old school, catholic ties
a glint in the seeing dawg eyes - and a swerve word
or two

a well deserved swerved word - or two.
screw you - you fucking un-deswerving
.... but every pain is not self inscribed
Distanced well wishers hope sympathy into sight.

there's nothing left to do tonight.

..but this one

here

might be.

These Books

                                                                                                                                                       

 here

and here

They're not REAL you know

Poverty Tourism: Meet The Loser

Talking to Michael Rosen today during our annual conversation at early morning codgers stretching hour at the Latitude Festival inspired something unexpected. Last year we chatted about the miners strikes on the 30th anniversary and this year we exchanged views and experiences of the 'family justice gravy train' (my terminology). What was unexpected was the idea of poverty tourism.

It soon became obvious from the conversation that both of our experiences involved winners, losers and those on the receiving end of inequitable economic and social justice..

I came away feeling that I would like to invite Michael to Great Yarmouth to offer something to our common efforts to invent a 'cultural economy' in the town.

It seems to me that we are working largely blind, with little understanding of the term 'culture' or, more problematically 'cultural heritage', let alone the mysterious thing which we call a cultural economy or 'cultural tourism'...

I found myself imagining inviting Michael to Yarmouth to have him recite some of his children's poetry in Peggoty's of a Saturday afternoon. I don't know why, I just did.

I like Michael Rosen. So does everyone else it turns out. But I've done stretching with him and I'm going to get him to come to Yarmouth!

bumba rice

our faces add up to an equal sign
small bone addition and lip curl
all equate to a justice of faces
and red line through a turned up nose

Sparring on this: happiness is -

(jamming)

triumph and treats of troubadours
melodious funk in the attic
me got a twist in me cheek and jowl
dem gone all CASH IN DE ATTIC

But me kyan hope and pain in yar idal eyes
waiting time for some paparatchick
whatever you see now is i don't mind

bullets, comas, come for a sashlick?

Boris Porridge Trophy (BPT)

where there's a bill there's a beak
don't make a monkey of me
you'll be eating hospital food
with a spoon for weeks
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
mildew on a discarded wood pulp cup:

(wood pulp cup wood pulp cup
o how i do love thee wood pulp cup)

This year Battersea played Rotherhide for
the Wood Pulp Cup in its centenary 150th year.

On this historic occasion, the towns of London and Sheffield
had all agreed not to wear clothes for the whole day
to mark the occasion .

The mayor of London said: "mmm blleergh yeah arm, ya!"

as he handed the Rotherhide captain Leofric Egan the historic cup and the crowd looked on completely nakedly...

"Thanks' Leofric said according to a panel of lip reading journalists who looked on from the dug out.

and then: "Porridge".

"Porridge"? Boris was reported to have repeated, in puzzlement.

"Ya" cam the reply of Leofric, a known nazi sympathiser, taxi driver and bird watcher.

As the twitching fascist left to greet his colleagues with the trophy, naked journalist Anna Hamberley asked him how he felt:

"This is a fantastic day for Rotherhide, naked journalism and wood pulp" said the fascistic bird lover.

failte

writing's no foil to cruelty un-checked
in reality it's no foil at all
but cruelty of a high degree
makes a writer of you, of me and

of the executioner: An axe swing too late
to be punctual and keep your head on.

A gunshot wound from fast fidelity - to bosses.

out terry

they heard their soles creak through the empty street past one shooting gallery after another and nobody was in - not one joined was carrying any hype or nothing so they stopped into a bar for a beer where a lady with low down chest said: " honey baby you can eat for free - you want to eat me?"

We cant speak this way and we can't go that, what are we to do? We are not workers in our field...

The bass of the freeway and the trebled up rain came down against their heads an splashed a wet truth over the whole scene which was running now - kind of before their eyes. the scene ran down and out..

We all work hard with Gods blessings - if i had a soul - would I recognise? If i looked just like summer, would I realise? Worth an ask..

Some Broads are bigger then others. Not to wherry.

Disenfranchised (some people i know to lead fantastic lives)

With three readers:
"Can we afford these memories?"
Maybe not if they bring such joy

Ask not rhetorical questions of yourself
when music is the answer, but listen:

"I open up my eyes. I open up my loving eyes..."

A hole through the earth
A man who smelled his lady's knickers
both opened and no shame, we say:

"difficult shapes and passive rhythms some people think its fun to entertain"

and tend the planted blanket of mysterious youth like a shroud - or patch - to grow...

mantra

you're sacked you're out you're gone - no doubt
giving life to a litany of list

less people (WHO) buy more

champagne

om

Bohemian Rap

Im burning through the sky
i don't want to stop at all
Those were the days of our lives
Barcelona, is this the real life?

well said our mam

know nothing and dream of being on the run
fast dreams, curlicued and laced with edge
portals feature like continents. ecosystems of intrigue
bannered facades of love hate and subconscious knowings.

This Blog Owes Croatia An Apology

It's nothing personal - sorry.

Stay Awhile....

and make corporate daydream friendly fire hot dogs
for multiple language networks and shop step scrubbers

if you've nothing more important - or pressing?

cultural commonsense

bless your unicorn hide
Roger Bacon did precede
your tremulous innocuous
internecine decrees

Ah wanna wake up when the morning comes
When the morning comes
When the morning comes
When the morning comes

Ah wanna wake up when the morning comes
ööööööööööööööö öööööööööööööö

Dreaming Tom Browne's blues
in cotton rhyme
with blue suede shoes
I swear I could sit next to youse

licking in a thicket of your own...

A lemony snicket thicket of
tomBrowns Dribbling blues
A bhopal onion and a thickset
mogul between three setting suns
and the seventh boyfriend.

All I wanna do is See You

Jimmy.

bad shit (losing my religion)

its crazy what you could've had: I need this...

no real memory, just Paul and john
Some taxi driving 'older guy called'
Kimball  - Steve. Do I remember that?

Humanities were cheap and Creative `industries'
Hadn't been invented. £80 billion was a dream
What was 80 Billion worth in 1989?

Apple mac1 Oracle info systems.
The Ford Fiesta was still shit
and apart from the ladies, Thats it

Tiger foot.

Rodney

money back farts and manageresses manageretteishly
managerial manage any manageably mange tout

mangled, mangos, man down man down man down...
Manassas, Steve Stills, Crosby Nash and young manfred mann.

Man, we just fell about the place
But if the boys want to dance....

For Free

All the rag men are gone they don't draw circles round here no more
they just want to be on a side thats winning - or Magaluf.

But, if you forgive them for what they did or what they don't do,
or for keeping it hid: you can redeem this coupon online.

N374592 - this voucher enables you
To buy: Shoes, Travel, Nail jobs and Wigs, Cosmetics, Food, Beer, Gigs

Free downloads of songs you don't pay for, coz freedom came today
and you weren't in. So freedom started to give itself away.....

£End.

At the private viewing we widdled
we twired and we swithered, gimballed
and planked and dithered.

We sold the town hall while shocking
the new mouths of Yare and carefully,
eschewing, the less than Bohemian

Visitors, who came, mewing:
"Mental Elf, the doctors" and time
that they have been doing

While Shorn behind the camera frowns
at the tittle tattle and riff raffle
sure to let us (and the brand) down

In The End.

Soul Ass.

Make time for space
Make space for time
Make Teas Elliot..

The TimeSpace Continuum
and the SpaceTime void

Try Lanzarote

Or Magaluf

Think of things with your brain
It doesn't matter if you are wrong

The authentic mistake of life
is as big and equal to a soul
A soul. Who you calling a soul?

You,

A Soul.

Fish Fish

Well met, shakes Peer.
Those armies of salt
Peter and the mellifluous
Johnny and the Croats
A couple of Groats and a
ham and egg sandwich
The catering for free
A loss leader, like a line
into who knows what bole, hole
or Hemsby? All fish fish.

music lose it love confuse it no race no religion live (caught one more time)

these little things
we all have a go at
a caravan
a pile of croats

something on u tube
just reminded me of you

tube.

all diddley good
all rolling
all jelly mould st st st

rolling

nah nah nah na na na

can't take it back.

Just call it 'Nigel'
like a middle class fear
of a substance misusing art group

or a religious convention
masquerading as salt.

Art

how can we tell them?
(voice in head interior)
Radio Interview, alone at the microphone.

"All your pictures are meaningless
but that won't make them go away"
(voice head interior):

i need a crowd of people but
I can't face them day to day.

Tax. Mainly. Still, it will have to be cold and dark.
Always cold and dark. We laugh, we fear, we lionise
We put the price up.

"Is this a tribute?"

No.

title tattle

first, she ceased to think in words
then, she ceased writing words
it was only a matter of time before
she no longer spoke in words

here is what she said:

Cor Oar For Da Poor

gregor
hyckasis
other words that look Hungary.

Cor!

Budapest Hotel

Thankyou travel
language made sense
at last
Mechanics - thank you
for what?
not caring about syllables
or form, cantor or, oar, or oar.

and for staying in the air.
Hungary was grand.

he did

talked himself out of it, he did.
in mountains of mole-hills, hid.
when the levee creaked, he fled.

like a dirty, lying, anachronistic hypocrite of the day
beautifully timed, looking like greased lightning
out of the bowl of his three piece suit

which never had a tie - just sensible shoes
a lap top bag and a well pocketed comfy jacket
in which to hide many engagements. Ran away

like a fucking hyena someone said.
I think it was one of his daughters.
Or his mum. No one else actually knew at the time

but we know it now.

Fashionable Again

all of christmas and January's beginning was,
not to say what had been hoped for, less than startling
and ended in a hot fever and cold bones. Ginger n lemon

were the next oblivion during matters and flesh from the
cold pressed inanity of work-stresses and managing:
Executive Coper with experience of handling an international client list..

oh, give us a break: 'International Art', International Level, 'True' Internationals
Using this word as a statement of quality rather than plain geographical reference
has become commonplace and probably needs a stop to it to be put.

"Coping just isn't romantic heroic or manly and it'll never make a serious job title"
said the over-weight  'employment consultant' who had, until recently, been unemployed
for about thirteen years, since just before she gave birth to young Rita, who's name is now

fashionable again.

Depeche Mode

Das read Em?

McCarthy. Just Confess.

(ooh hoo..)

Kate Bush.

You've got a friend Pete, Jimmy, our Carol,

Gathered round a piano

with them all and general McCarthy.

Just confess.

game over

this isn't poetry - it's scrapbooking
social mobility is not something everybody wants
thankyou robert.

do you have any final words on the subject?

try these:

"The pinto sprang forward, cut in front of the lead wagon and Capt. Walker headed out on his long road"

yes, that'll do.

advice for the condemned royal or a bankers 'niece'

The lessons of 2014:

1. Other people have shittier lives than you. Be mindful of them and be patient.

2. It is of no comfort that other people have shittier lives than you. Your pain is real.

3. Pain is relative. But after a certain level it is absolute.

4. No pain, no gain.

5. Do Yoga

6. Cook nice things

7. Take time and don't panic.

8. Do it now - it will be over if you don't.

9. Don't worry about money if you know someone who's going to die and leave you some.

10.  Just have a nice time

11.  Don't wait for people to die and leave you money - kill them yourself.

12. Don't believe all underage sex stories. Some are just honest business cartels trying to gainsay a bit of insider info on the competition. It's all in the game - even if a few royals get implicated. Blame the under-age girls if all else fails.

13. It is quite possible to walk in Central Park and not be recognised - even if you are 5th in line to the throne - if you wear some really old trainers and jeans.

14. WHAT?

15. Keep your basic company information, VAT numbers, charity registrations etc all in one safe place - so you can always put together an application for funding - even when your plane crashes in the desert and you are the only survivor and vultures peck a your feet.

16. Please yourself. NO - Not like that!

17. Think bad thoughts

18. Think good thoughts.

19. Put none of these into action.

20. Do what you have to and no more

21. When you are 46, plan how you want to be at 65.

22. When you are 65, plan how you want to be at 46.

23. Choose your own way to die and invite everyone you love.

24. Too late.