Friday 31 August 2012

RUBIK HEART I WISH



just imagine
if you could tell your
HEART 
wot to do

if feelings/soul were a finished
RUBIK'S CUBE 
held in
dexterous intelligent paws
to slightly twist
in rhythms
and
in kilter
with your tiny life ebbs


Thursday 30 August 2012

MY NEW COFFEE TABLE


The old woman behind the counter of stopped watches and tin trinkets is full of smiles when he comes in the door.  Her granddaughter ignores him.  She wants to know when they can go home.  Not till they’ve taken a little bit more money, dear, is when.  The charity shop smells of steam and age.  He squeezes past the clothes rails and toward the coffee table, its surface kept clear.  Twenty five pounds a taped note says, no negotiating.  Its wooden legs are battered and someone has scribbled all over the underside in blue pen.  The top is dated red and brown swirls edged in still shining chrome.
The woman is thrilled when he says he’ll take it and tells him it should clean up well.  Her granddaughter bounces up and down asking if they can home now.  Not yet they can’t.  He carries it outside rests it against a black bin warped by fire.  Taking out his phone he wonders who he can ring for a lift.


Wednesday 29 August 2012

GET IT DOWN



i pour Go Cat in Schrodinger’s bowl
and sit with a glass mug of steaming green tea
i watch
Windows
boot up
i want to get something written down
before i shower
before breakfast
before the days distractions

the postman shuffles up the road in shorts chewing gum
steps over the low fence
stuffs an envelope from the HMRC
in 
my 
letter box

my next door neighbor slams her door
gets in her car
fusses with grey hair

nothing else out there this morning
i send two texts
and
lift
the cat
off the keyboard


Tuesday 28 August 2012

DARK WOOF



it was there when he woke before dawn
twisting his guts into knots of hot barbed wire

he dragged it
to the shower with him
a dead weight as big and black as thunder 

it was always there
and by the time the birds were bawling
and the weak winter sun drew shapes round the curtains
it had shrunk to a large black dog
laying on the greasy kitchen lino

and by the time he left for work
it was packed tight in a backpack
and just about light enough to travel



Monday 27 August 2012

HAIKU


air tastes of Greenwich autumn
early morning river bench
worry about money


Sunday 26 August 2012

HOT RIZLA




my Rizlas wont stick in this heat
even glue
has
a
lethargy
here

i snatch tiny pellets
from the
tobacco
air/write them
and
glory
in ANY
rhythms
that fall on my threadbare lap

-

when we were young
that was
the only
thing
going
for us/tiny pellets and rhythms on the sea wall water tower

it’s the only thing
ever
going for us/falling art – catch it smile on it
make
it
a
ritual
before its
gone


Saturday 25 August 2012

RALIEGH BURNER





i’d love to see
  a RALEIGH BURNER again
 
or a
  100 of them
charging about
in
bright
default yellow and reds

simple metal lines slim against the sky

100 kids in Top Winners
all on
RALEIGH BURNERS
hacking it about
     doing makeshift jumps and hurting themselves

some with pegs
some with pads

  now
  that’s a gang










Friday 24 August 2012

ONLY GOLD



gold is
only
polished yellow,
silver;
just metal and grey
and
diamonds
are but shiny white


Thursday 23 August 2012

SAMURAI


samurai chooses haiku, 
more than just a warrior,
end of summer days




Wednesday 22 August 2012

USED TO THINK


everything is meat.
coffee is meat/whisky and gin is meat.
cigarettes
and
drugs are all meat.
work and cars and midnight lock-ins are meat.

now i see salad everywhere.
tea is salad.
exercise and early nights are salad.

i
am
between food groups/my life
is
a
vegetable

and 


gnarly chicken nugget 

is my mind.



Tuesday 21 August 2012

THERAPIST



is not as foreign as her name
and
she’s asking me if i have heard the word
MINDFUL
before.

i am saying i have but only in Star Wars
and
i’m
saying
Liam Neeson
said
BE MINDFUL OF YOUR THOUGHTS.

but
later i’m thinking that was Ewan Macregor’s line and
that
he
was repeating
something Yoda said to him anyway.

no matter.

she
was
only explaining the best way to eat and savour Malteasers.




Monday 20 August 2012

SWEATY UN CAB


death is a hungry hand
fingers war deeply
in the back of sweaty UN cab

domestic kitchen-ignorance
hated-blank scrabble bank
rolling news-visible
black blip
in the Great Circle

falls in metal boxes from the steel lung darts

death is a rude hand
flips the bird to paralysed sad eyes pleading
locked
in
flung legal jism and hollow hung bureaucratic balls

forced storyboard
of billboard chicks and janet and john black and white
winners fingering losers
in
the
back
of sweaty UN cabs

warrior tribes in surrogate parents palms
eat their young
under porch flags
with bbq sauce/documentaries/missing limbs/and the queen

is it
dangerous and foolish
being happy in the timeless ridiculous days?







Saturday 18 August 2012

PIG SENTINELS


upright like men
on flat rooftops or slanty slates/the end of the road behind parked hatchbacks/in the park in the shadows of innocent trees/
on a playtime grassy hill/the old stone of the church tower

always
at
a
distance

Pig Sentinels LOOKING my way as i go about my bland town business

they are
without expression/as far as i can tell
silent and still
naked - or in trousers?  maybe some were in trousers
black
office
slacks

this is dream of course

but when i wake
and its still dark
despite science and architecture 
and the sane wire technically whirring/mainly functional
in my mind
i FEEL in my ANIMAL GUTS and lost senses
that
it
is
entirely likely/possible/even essential
that
Pig Sentinels stand in the night yard in one or twos 
or
wait
in
the hallway behind the bedroom door
LOOKING!

oink


Friday 17 August 2012

A FRIEND SPOKE TO ME


i wonder who i am

she says dragging on a long white cigarette

which
hat
you got on?  

i say rolling a fag

or you posing a deeper question?

not hats

she says eyes on the distant fields ploughed into straight yellow lines

i wonder it a lot
and
you
know
what?  there isnt an answer

this answer pleases me - in silence we smoke
pondering
gazing
at
the
farmers patterns

SPOKEN TO A FREIND


we're smoking outside
hosp break time

she's in theatre blues
hair hidden
which brings out her eyes
shining with a 1000 years of bright intelligence

i keep up 
just
thru the deep coast fog and hot wire 
of adrenalin and insomnia

i say

'in my garden the other month
whenever
last year, i dont know,
i thought i should stop smoking
just
so 
i
could enjoy the summer beauty of my bursting garden a little longer,
so quiet but not creepy quiet, not end of the world silence
you understand but comfortable
and
then
i
thought
about how much i enjoy smoking in my beautiful garden,
it was a quandary,
first time i used that word ever i think, by the way,
a
QUANDARY,
a circular thought puzzle
to
ponder,
ideally while
smoking'

and she says

'thats poetry'

and
i
make
it
so


Wednesday 15 August 2012

LOVE IS THIS AND THAT


love is
treading on a beercap on the way to the toilet
(to quote buckowski)

love is this/love is that

love is
when clichés are real
and you act like a toy/a child
full of bubbles not shit
love is
when daytime radio bland cardiac rock
shines
on your hearts rose like an awesome reality truth explosion

or love is a dog
till
the autumn fool



Tuesday 14 August 2012

MATTER


found matter
in the
bed.

tv news on bubbles doom quietly/hot summer

midnight

going 
at 
it 
Deadwood Style; 

pour one drink to drink/drink it/pour another drink to drink...

put drink down
and
catch it up
between
thumb
and
forefinger
but 
cannot ID it at all/softly crispy 
but 
some malleability/colour? carpet stain.

laid it
on the page/rolls to the join with brittle rattle
where 
it
rests

makes
me
feel slightly sick.

which orifice does it hail from?

or

from which alien sky did it fall?



Monday 13 August 2012

SICK HAIKU


visit sick friend, talk shit, laugh; 
we should be on radio!
makes me feel better



Sunday 12 August 2012

BOOOOKS

even 
when i'm not reading
because the day is uncomfortable as crabs
and nothing will 
suitably engage
or smile or entertain
and 
i sit still as statues/stuck by science
to
simple wooden kitchen chairs
and
the
huge
turning hurtling heft of the world
its 
very 
IMPORTANT/headline crucial
to
have
gentle
piles and stacks and broken spine columns
of
BOOOOKS! all around
quiet/undemanding
patiently holding safe and linear
reality dreams
and
sane disorder - EXPOSING time and tricks
chaos filed
on
trial

i'll lay a hand on their gospel like i'm evidence
and
promise
never
to
properly lie


Saturday 11 August 2012

VALLEY



into the Valley of Dearth
rode the gallant bored hundreds
books
in
their
breasts bursting behind bones

forward Werd Army!
onto the da vinci shades of twilight airport doorsteps
and
call nothing - 
no werds or sentence fallen - a MISTAKE!

tube train fodder to the left of them
rejection letters filed to the right them
into the Valley of Dearth
rode
six hundred hungry writers happy
to
find
space
to
fill
with Honour Glory Truth 
fickle swaying market money
cannot 
fade




Friday 10 August 2012

WARS AND DOGS AND ME


write like a steppen-dog
barking
the ripped missed decades like
rutting and pissing alleys
growling out war
by
the empty beef tins

dwelling unhealthy
on the scream headlines
barking
in
a
dusty typing room
hearing and sympathising
with
the
drunkards
fighting out in the garage
forecourts

-

i’m home now
safe now
and in my cave/bunkered down with paper and a pen
my
sick still
drying on the bike frame
locked up downstairs

-

some future must be waiting behind
locked doors of grandparent visits
and
kitchen births – the past

empty house/fluff balls blow over the cracked brown tiles
i drink wine there
and
badly decorate
watching
my new
hand-me-down
TV



Thursday 9 August 2012

SHO BUZNIZ




Pure Drugs
     i say
and
     Good Long Legs
should be today’s Clean Glory    

but
my hands are empty pale
and
i cut
my head open
with
a crushed beer can

newly dried plaster walls
smell
of yesterdays wine now/dried in like birth mark stains

it leaked out in my bag
and
sprayed the decorating hall

cant remember the cycle home




Wednesday 8 August 2012

TO MY PEN


i rip you
i rip you
from my awful paw
soft and sweaty and clamped like a claw
cos
i need
a piss now
and
i'm
drunk
enough
to need both hands for navigation and control


Tuesday 7 August 2012

DRONE WITNESS 3


i’m a walker/a functionary
like
an
iron pipe
i’m base plumbing/a simple vector/a channel
but
not rusting and tubing in the dry wall; i’m LOOSE

i’m a mover/a weak electric current
i carry plastic
push it with my trolley hands
past
the freaked survivors retreated by fire
war
inherited error genetics
and
accident/live’s of plates of lard

i have the tubes
dr’s
dress
them up in for a quiet last imagined ball
plastic cracker jewellery
for
final minutes

i’m a watcher/eyes
i’m a soft camera
witnessing
no-privacy
between
the white
exit
walls


Monday 6 August 2012

BDAY

leave the hectic confusion of Past
in
a
tupperware container
drilled full with air holes
to
let
it breath and gently rot and fade

anything of real steel in there
will
oxidise into learnt valuable antiques
beautiful with barnacles
and
warped with age and rain and wind 

open carton of Today and pour it slowly
over
naked writing
bearing in sane mind fine wire choices
that
invisibly fence Abyss

you walked a ghost in the dark
and felt the cold and lived the tricks/mistakes
and
white noise night thunder
now
the meat flesh is real/not laid out on a chilled slab -

walk
bare and opened
in the
blues and flower oranges of fruit and water daylight
and
feel
the
warmth from the good/bad new/old
cafe corners and night-out streets
on
your
constantly surprised questioning/accepting
ageing
birthday 
face 


Sunday 5 August 2012

DRONE WITNESS 2


unjaded unhardened
i witness
paper hospital faces coloured dark olives and white greys
coming apart in rotten shoelace quiet screams
i
walk
silent
soft
funeral steps to preserve/generate stillness and peace
concern
at
the defeat and the no-raging from dull lit pale beds
burning
confused
compassion
inside me