ALWAYS YOUNG ON SOMEWHERES ROADS

i dont care
that my youth
is gone

it was ill formed
dumb
and
badly raging

and anyway
there is still some slice of me 
kept alive 
out there -

drunk and climbing the rotten wharves 
on the thames peasant and muddy fringe
or laid prone in dawn residue
in the secret shrub garden
of socketts heath roundabout
the
rush hour traffic
alien
ships
to
my
ears

socketts heath 1955 from www.francisfrith.com

WRITER LIST POP

cubby jr
hank
the fantes
goodis
richmond
heller
blyton and maclean 
websters

all make me wish the cat could read
and
that
i
could
sing

 from www.davidgoodis.com

 

THIS WORLD CANNOT BE MADE UP

and
none
of
us
stiffs / forced squares / 9to5ers 
rutting
nose-deep in the fuckitall night-time trough
is 
really 
sure 
anymore
if theyre high or not

sober days are mescaline - veil lifted
when
the evenings rush-to-live
can
be 
dead as dead is dead - 

tv is watchingpaintdry
silicon breeze of bland cut-ups
blowing like sandstorms 
or 
too livid / too alien / too future satirespoof
skewed news celebrity drool
flowing like niagra 
from
every 
glass
device 

 from www.cnet.com

MUSIC IS ENORMOUS

i can smell wet fire
and
really - music is ENORMOUS !

these are my thoughts
walking
down a cold road
and
its like a latvian animation out here
a
sinister
fairyland - black stripes and silent windows
and
cracked 
light
at 
odds 
with 
the pavements creases 

 from dailycal.org

THEN AND TODAY

 
  like a monolith of secrets
  i felt old at 19
rolling
joints
for
wannabe grungers
on
absent parents patio tables
  watching them
  get
  high
  with
  my
  fatherly eyes - laughing
                  as
                  someone
                  turns green
  from
  a rising blowback


( today tho
  i feel as new and unwise
  as a child
  in the future )

 

 from urbandictionary.com

QUEEN MOTHER

oh 
man !

i remember saying
filled with relief
in march '02

i
thought
she
would
never 
die 

 from pinterest.com

MAGIC

  spiked metal moons
with
open
fans
like giving hands
  spin
  in the nothing up there
  mostly 
  out of sight

  but
sometimes we see them as
white blips 
  that 
  arent planes 

  and
  our
maessages bounce up there
in
a way which i cant fully grasp

our business and crimes
our invisible kipple 
our pleading spam
  up
  and
  then
  back down to cables
  that are fast

fast cables that i dont quite fully grasp
that share
  the 
  word
  and
  the  
  world 
  

from www.telegraph.co.uk

MEAT

walking meat
orders
cooked meat
from
uniformed meat
disguised
with 
shapes and sauce 

 from pandawhale.com

OUTSIDE TESCO'S WINDOW

theres
a
cement road
  in the sky

  and
seagulls soar in its caves
  white
  grey
  and 
  rigid 
    like greasy gliders

and
the
modern orange flats
  are
  new 
  like a shoe box is new

  under
brushed aluminium clouds

 from neovise.com

 

BURIED IN THE MIX

any
truths
are
poor
now
in the constant company
of
all
the
lies 

from www.huffingtonpost.com

AUTUMN BOOTS

curled gold and copper
lies
under
trees new bones

autumn is a happy death
  when 
  the 
  sun 
  shines

  i walk my boots 
thru its orange clots
past
the
  graveyard stones
  allotments wild squares
  fire station
  school yard
and
  the secrets of silent daytime houses

  under
  a
  sky
of huge boat cranes 

 from www.goldsinjewels.co.uk

SKY AND CLOUDS

sky

shall i ask you again ?

is your untrue blue
all
you
have
after
all this time ?

and

you do realise its the clouds
that do all the work ? 

(without them you are teal A4)

anyway

thank you for the show

from johnsimpson.com

EARLY DARK

not afraid exactly
but wary
of this early darkness
and
its 
blinkered boldness 
its
cocktail fog of memories
so
i
go
out
into
its half-world / its solid reduction
pen clamped in my teeth
and
walk
there
in its sameness
alone

 darkness by mikkolagerstedt from deviantart.com

FRIDGE ALWAYS HUMS

houses heating noises ARE autumn
  click-clicking and tickling
  thru
  old pipes again

and the fridge ALWAYS hums its benevolence
  and 
  smug necessity
    behind
    the everything forever

and workmens drills from over the back fence
  pierce me like knitting needles 
      their hard steel pounding
      thru
      startled cement

and the fridge ALWAYS hums
  blank face happy to wait
    he
    is
    the
    stillest thing
    that ever was alive

and the radio plays a commercial classical station
    cos
    thats ALL the radio will play

and the postman posts WHATEVER
  thru the letter slot
    but 
    when i go to collect this WHATEVER

    i forget 
    
    forget in the hallway

    forget me and forget purpose

      brain 
      fart 
      SUPREME

instead i am reading Al Purdy on the toilet 
    where i can hear
    the fridge humming ALWAYS
    chilling 
    infinitum  

 from aheadinthesky.bandcamp.com

(AMONG OTHER THINGS) COLLEGE WAS 3

college
was
a
slow 
slide 
into
a
poor mans rebellion / old denim
and 
mind expanding rock -
i
made
paper puppets of lecturers instead of notes
and
danced them over desks to the tunes in my head
and
learnt how to not give an f-cake
about
any
f-cakes
at
all 

 from bakeitinstinct.com

(AMONG OTHER THINGS) COLLEGE WAS 2

college 
was
the smell of last nights raining fields
caught 
in 
my coats cheap weave
on 
the 
bird-chatter morning bus 
of 
strange and changeable teen divisions
my
boots always damp 
from 
dawn dew
and 
spilled beer

from themarysue.com

(AMONG OTHER THING) COLLEGE WAS

the new worlds of old-men pubs
at 
dusty nowhere noon 
quiet like dead planets 
the 
souls of fried flies trapped 
in nicotine net curtains
over 
original ancient window panes 
and
unplayed 
Bleach 
on 
the 
unplugged jukebox
 

from geography.org.uk

WORLD x 3

1.

world
tied
down 
beyond yelled NOs
with
no CSI allocated
to collect 
her 
blood and burrs


2.

the 
common uncontenders 
are consuming 
and deranged
clinging
to
a
hope-ticket
or 
their next lazy escape
into
a
mirage fortnight
under
spun gold 


3.

the 
inbetween army of culpable climbers
who
enable
addiction
consumption
exploitation
with 
triplicate forms and price advising 
still
painted
buttercups
in
school

from cbs.com

HIGH BIRD x 3

1.

high above me the black cut-out of a bird
rides
thermals 
in
circles

far below him 
we are stone and steel squares
trawled greens 
grey strips
a zoned off-kilter patchwork 
of
big dressed bugs


2.

folded and bloated
in
the
passenger seat 
of an empty car
i watch rush hour chug without grace
in
the
cagey nowhere hours
of
late
september 


3.

the blue wall of sky 
crowds
the 
bones of tree tops 
and
the 
church peaks of our roofs

up against it
we are unkillable and dying
in
the
dirt padded danger
of
earths
used 
ball 

 

 from www.shoootinguk.co.uk