Sink Town Blues

I've got an idea and the will, strong arm and love to burn
repeat
I've been to see the not for profit gods
I can get me some nuthin, every good nothing deserves its turn

I got my constitution written down and my logo's on the way
(repeat)
If I can't do something
I can get paid for bein' that way

Well I got asked to make shoes for the poor by an old man passing by
(repeat)
But he didn't have no constitution, so I just said: "goodbye"

Bull works, Bulwarks and Bolognaise

Everyman stepping on their toes, name on spine;
A Bullwark episode from number 58. "We want to be aware"

"What's stopping us?" "We know what we've got to offer" and
People are exhausted; "I think the way the Pope does"

"It's to see what they actually do - get in first, it's business!"

"I hate the Italians because they betrayed their own leaders"
We didn't agree on everything even before I knew what I thought

Stripped of a voice, cut down to nawt, bellowing forgotten words
as noises; you just take it all and lie down to wait for nothing

Scouting was a diversion. Athletics distracted. Exercise in general;
The soft red oozing of a sliced open hand on fireworks night

A token of the contempt and disdain your mother would always show to
beer bottles and drinkers, people under 'the influence' and having fun

"Don't do that. We are going to have to apply for funds. Not council funds though.
They're all gone". I remember collecting wood lice from the rockery

Kept em all in a big jar with lettuce and air holes. Lice Olympics.
1973. Where did all the gravy go? What happened to tartan patched jeans?

Food has moved in 30 years and so has the state of the nation;
a mis-spelled search takes me inside the workings of a rodeo bull:

License Unknown but 'Shareable'! Acknowledgements©

The Happy Days Of Paranoia and Good Old Self Loathing (or 'Puff Gone')

It doesn't paint a picture of the place or evoke anything of the feeling
but I have a list of the things that were there when it all became clear.

Not clear in a shorthand, obvious, easy to explain kind of way,
but clear in a deeper, more definite, authentic, feeling kind of a way.

It was just a street, well, an entrance to a street, that comes off a park
A sort of exit-come-segway from a 'green space' to a pedestrian crossing

ring road place to some inner city flats and houses... It was a memory really.
A particular memory of how, neatly folded in to this beautiful, green, connected

cultured, slightly self obsessed place, there is an iron curtain of closed shop
self indulgent 'we'll actually never meet the not of our like ever if we can avoid it'

crowd.

But you'd never know it. And though that sounds like a blessing at first, in fact, your
ignorance will add to the sensations of exclusion, smallness, irrelevance, cluelessness

and ultimately poverty and death, which you will suffer alone, knowing, finally
that you were not one of them and that there was no-one else but them, in fact, ever.

This will be your only blessing and it would be worth remembering how you'd been there before
and how the belief that you'd ever left was ultimately erroneous, as confirmed now by your final breath.

Inclusivity, Inclusion, Inclusiveness, Diversity and Equality

Women - this is for you.

Us, this is for us. We are everyone.

All of us are everyone. Not some of us.

We are all, equally, together and collectively, one

and many. We are us, you, them and they. But not

'Those'. We will not be 'Those' ever again.

That's not for us, you, them or we or anyone.

Those are not us. Those were us, or so they thought

But they are not us anymore and never will be again.

we are what they thought 'Those' might have been or even were

but not now, because we have changed all of that.


Now: Men...

We will not forget men - men are important too.

She's OK

Ghost of this street

Walking, Windows,

Places meet the walker

Frame it and proceed

In time to be memoried

Again. In time Again

Your light touch self nudges on,

Unabashed, but wearied and more

Waiting than last time or place

Of coincidence.

Can I have my smorgasbord back?

Dogwood and Fairy Lights
Crystals mist inside daylight
on panes of death and bone conduction:
Ice melts a Lemon Torte by time's hand.

And, it's beat three miss one and repeat
Trust the bones if not the meat
We will never this way pass til
beasts inspect, heads down low,

This instance: Fallen Mistletoe...

The festivity's severity, by me myself and mystery
has revealed just what it means to me:

Bleeding Christmas. Dripping, sodding, farting and scrap-booking

Mince Pie heaven with cheeses. Selections of Cheeses.

CHEESUS!

Poetry For The New Age

See 'Nouns, Prepositions and Descriptors'

Blood Grass From Above Lends Hand

No stimulus to cause afray dry this flat dont iron
Argue the hill. Cast bridges, sea going, errata ip
iscus ip idiom imperata cilindrica 'rubra' - or -
japanese Cylindrical Bloodgrass. it's the bloodgrass we love.

Blood ties knot a read in a flute is thin gruel for school leavers
what are you talking about? who are 'Prospects'? grantsized
accommodations for teenagers and pocket liners one man bands
nobody knows or unsderstands. is there anybody out there?

Hello....?