stuff

AYE  always wanted  stuff I never had stuff eventually when I got stuff stuff came with death if I’d known the price of stuff I’ve done without forever now I’ve got stuff bigger stuff roomy stuff nice stuff comfy stuff stuff to put stuff in so that stuff doesn’t block up the bottom few stairs or the hallway and you don’t have to wriggle around stuff to get from the downstairs toilet to the kitchen cursing all the way if I’d known that stuff would cost lives I would have done without stuff. Stuff stuff

Saga

The idea of advertising working on anyone after the age of 55 is what we should all be afraid of

real bad case of the good yucks

Post Post Modernism

Who gives a fuck?

Post Modernism

Fuck Off off

Modernism

Fuck Off

Lee Shore

Recalcitrance

Stiff uppers
Size 10
Tongue:
100% Poly
Esther: Just a girls name

Why?

This is not a menu

Dotty Zit

Hey hey Booby Dylan
your gob is full of shite
I did like Ray Davies
But his brother is better now

Thus, did we understand meter and rhyme
Crossed with ageing and
All put down in paki stanzas
This is the age of polarisation

In The Nation

Arkansas is a long way far oh, ah...

Dub.
Who said that?
(rolls national health specs up and down nose in national treasure fashion)

Dorothy?

Silly Old Sod

I always thought lies got shared with everyone eventually
but most people just get away with em
's mental innit?

(Too late)

A Writer Shade Of Punk

Am I really the best you got?
O curator?
O job a day?
O good man
O nice guy

Gobbins and Gubbins and whiskers n kittens

Bullet points,
You drive me inane

And the melotron explodes
and we all turn...
coz the fucking sun is broke.

Dear God XTC (Anger at the Maker)

I like this sun
it's cooler
than the killer
rooftop
parthenocissus clearing murdering bastard sun

that sun can fuck off

how can two degrees be the same as 60 centimetres?

It can't

Bad sun
Lying sun
Shining deceitful rays of shite

on us all sun.

Hey Hey Bobby Dylan

Hey hey, Bobby Dylan, I wrote you a song

I know there’s no time left - you can’t sing along

but just ‘fore you go - god knows, god becomes you,

Well it’s alright Bob. We’re only dying, 
—

Hey hey Bobby Dylan, I wrote you this song

Coz the things you were sayin are a thousand times gone

Now I’m singing this song and I can’t sing enough

Of paywalls and princes and peasants, computers and stuff
—

Hey Hey Bobby Dylan, now I know that you know

That no song and no words ever really changed the show

But when the counting is done there’s a tower in your place

Now that every billboard is fixed to your face
—

Now the waterfalls of pity roar and the fountains of youth

They’re all making noises ‘bout you speaking truth

Well maybe you are and maybe you ain’t

But you can’t say no more and they sold all your paint.
—

Still, you’re here while I’m speaking right now in this place

You’re selling your lithos and painting your face

You don’t mess with typos, you’re plying your trade

Capitalism is dying, but your fortune is made.
--

Hey Hey Bobby Dylan, I know that you know,

All the things I am saying and many times more

I'm singing this song but I can't sing enough

About paywalls and princes and peasants, computers and stuff.

Blood cells white Down to four Someone forgot to close the patio door.

all trueism

sword kissing yawns
long time TV
all turn to stone
all prime time
by me

Richard Beckinsale,
Other people we know,
but don't care about
spirit keepers like
my daughter would need

in a crisis

Vernon, Farrow and Ball

I am a bit of tree 

my name is Byrne and Ball 

if you burst into flames right now

 I wouldn’t care at all

I pray for rain come nightly 

its parched here in the woods

Says God to me pray all you like 

it’ will not do u good

I’ve direct lines to Perseus,

Aries, Zeus, Andromeda

I eat up snakes for breakfast;

xylem, phloem and im a dad

Aphrodite was my wifey

when homer had a ball

 iraq and im a dinner jacket

Iran and ran and ran

from the hills of donegal

to the drones of pakistan

and when I found malaysia

I thought  i spotted land

but all that it turned out to be

was mum, who’d gone to Iceland

where she was buying frozen leaves

for this very nice man...

up you

only so much word offer conflagration a life can boggle
come down and its so close to feels like heaven I cant
stop feeling like im in love.

We exercise in public but we shag in private

Did We?

Said the Pace Gatherers:

"I am a data spigot
I spin the world wide web
I sign up to agreements
I want to rhyme with 'Greb'"

please forgive me

Who said that?

""

Blakeney Meeting (Are You Any Good?

if you ever want to find mulholland drive
or jimie dean, 20th century go to sleep
im out of here, im not scared
if you want to find alexandroupoli
nineteenth century, im outa here
and if you go to Plovdiv, remember me
to the cats.

I was a broken hero to myself
i made the personal polar
and vicarious, like a sunny cunt
added salt to the wettening wound
of doubt, built a cathedral of may bees
do we say: "yes', 'no' or maybe?
six fifty nine

the time

I had this TV hope for the olympics
it's still there. so am i
together in your drama too?
nice to know love
nice to know you

complete, compete
move around the ancient circle,
Re-wire; don't go too hard at demolition
building a present from your past impatience
ends in future hope inherited by
the goodwill antennae

a massive.

if you will...

Incipient Arborism and Word-Smithery

It's time to order some words
but not now. Later and then
After that, longer and further off still

They'll come and you know they will
Even if the face you need to drill
wont. The words will, when you least need or want,

Come. Spitting like a bastard, you'll
wish you could have left your eloquence at the door.
But you wont, you'll speak - or just whisper to yourself:

"Yeah, whatever"

Matrimony

Love is the last marketable commodity in a low wage economy
and Marriage is its material commons. We all buy in to it
and share the belief that this expense will sustain us.

I find myself wondering, on an anniversary, how many wedding suppliers
I have a relationship with on a return business basis.
It's really just the lawyers now that I grow my own flowers.

questions to ask money

where have you been?

is yours worth the same as mine?

if i hand you over, where will you go?

what/who do you represent?

have you been earned?

New Banker Poor

I'm a new social underclass - the new banker poor... I've given away everything you own so I can have more. I found in the end that the best dividend, was for me to have nothing but cost you more. So I'm the new banker poor, where less is really more. I'm in your area Tuesday week, so don't be shy, just be meek (the poor shall inherit, the rich are weak) There are new ways of costing a fortune. Lloyds of London, nat west, RBS and the greeks have all become old hat compared to our new shabby sheikhs.... The new banker poor, look out for a collection box in your area: nr4. Tuesday morning sharp as a knife. Stand and deliver your money and your life. New banker poor, on the streets, door to door.

(Lets make our economy just like before... For people who want to get on and own their own home... )

Aspiring to nothing - a dog with a bone. Still they afford their mobile phones... The new banker poor live on the streets where they stash tax free donations and unwanted cash in receptacles made from the simmering ash of your pension - fund. Some say its too little and some say too late - the new banker poor have been bought by the state, in case we stagflate, empty the grate.

From the Many To The Few

nest featherer, nest featherer
how will you feather your nest?
will you start a bold new venture,
a champion, a beacon, a pest..?

nest featherer, nest featherer
how will you feather your nest?
will it be safe for the huddling masses
transfusing blue blood to the rest?

O nest featherer, featherer of nests
Will you send your evidence based reports
to consultants, paid servants and yes,
to me, nest featherer. Include me?

nest featherer, nest featherer
make me a nest soft as lace
in your participatory cultural quarterly,
co-creative, meanwhile-use space

Yours,

The Community.

Join

It's the Day Of The Dead, Coco
and I'm staring into the bonfire
in Keilors' Kellington Park
Maybe I will look up the music
It's been a long time Rusty
and your doughnut is out again
Re-fried and smelling like death itself
A woman called 'Kate' is hanging up its picture
You will not be forgotten for some time
I think the Whitechapel did a '25 years on'
To re-consider 'Blighty' and its hatred of intellectuals
Robinson argued that the problem of London was the
parochial fear of the city. Had to restrain him from violence:

" For Londoners, London is invisible. The true identity of London is in its absence. London was the first Metropolis to disappear"

Roller-shuttered pavements lined with aluminium
are not the only symptom shared with other, smaller places
who have followed suit for different reasons.
The loss of a civic centre is almost complete Robinson.

What shall we do?

Mast

intro

Chorus:

well baby, you had the gravy
you ate all of that juice up - and the plate
you went and gargled with the grease
and when you got down on your knees
oh baby, you kno u weren't feeling so great

Verse 1.

you read about it in the candy stripes
and cleaned it off with your lady wipes;
every body that we ever said goodbye to
has forgotten what it was they knew
and baby, y kno yr you're hungry too -
so let's eat and drink and dance and go to sleep

Repeat  Chorus

"Well baby, you had the gravy..."

Verse 2.

Now the ghost of good times past is free;
And time will lend you what time sees -
Baby, you can read it in the blast.
You can see it in the weather forecast,
Hear it in the Sunday Mass:
When you had no mothers womb u grew in me

Repeat Chorus to end.

When you've visited your elderly mother for a month in hospital where she barely ever saw a nurse...

... only to eventually come home to an army of 'personal carers' each being fed by different organisations who all have a direct intravenous line into her savings account.

You can't even say 'no' to some of them...

Etc.