ZEN GARDENS

A DREAM TO THE TUNE OF A SONG

i look in thru the windows
i look inside the door

everyone in there is playing god
on a ps4

i am falling asleep at the rendezvous
falling asleep on the floor

when i wake my belly is swollen
ribbed and ripped and ready for war

and the crabs are calling for passports
calling for their own custard creams

there is benzedrine in the breakfast potion
its washing my mind out clean

and in this dream i am suffocating
doesnt matter what i have seen

open another box says homer
doesnt matter where theyve been

from inceptionradionetwork.com

ENGLANDS RAINING

UP ON THE HILL

TWO HEALTH POPS

      DYING LIGHT

      our soft pools
         cloud
       in
 the  unkillable crematorium autumn

     our tunnel mazes
       clog  
     in
       the
 carehome  winter

   ( all the plumbers have been deported )

  but our memories
      shine  brighter
  divorced from reason 
         from  their wild edges

 age drenches them in a rose coloured sun
      
       now 
    everything was  always     
         a
  widescreen  childhood summer

from en.wikipedia.org

      SUSTAINED

   yesterday i felt a 3.5 out of 10

      today i am a 4

   i  hug my wife-elect
 i  squeeze our retired cat

       i  write down  
   w h a t e v e r
   i  can  think of
 watching the weather and the sun

 i pick a movie
     a book
   a spiral scratch 

 a slice of timed art is time out
a journeydream in other skin

  these Everyday Miracles = sustained

       tomorrow 
  i will be prob a 4 still

  or  maybe a 5.6 . . ?

  and  thats ok 
    today

from livewithcfs.blogspot.co.uk

CALL OF THE WILD

  its a strange world
    a hiccup life
 smeared and weird

   bricks and upvc and cars 
  block paving round the fruit trees
      where we tried
  to improve the ground

 and too  of course  the endless plastic rain

  step back  take a time out  
     and

      come

     on

     d
     o
     w
     n

  see   we are  beasts on the carpet
   phones now  where our claws were

    see  we are  animals with tiles
 insulated from the call of the wild
         
       we  still hear it . . .

 its an itch 
   we talk about 
    in the  
 therapy room

  the steel edge  in our laughter
   after dusk   when murder
      is
       for
      the good of the brood
      
     or
      only
     the
  dinner bell

from wikiality

MO' POP POPS

1.

did we grow up
to get here ?

adult ville . . . 

the single use park
the think yard

we can see all we left behind
thru bathroom glass and old sun

but back then
it
was
its
own
horror

i was an alien in a skin suit
when it should have been gravy

so i make gravy now


2.

theres a black presence

a dark weight

down by my feet

i am still in bed at 11 am . . .

its not sadness tho
its the cat

he purrs
hes asleep

his incisors framing 
his miniature chin

from thetangential.com

TWO POP POPS

1.

carving steel and ice

from the medicated sludge

is
king
mission
one


2.

no regrets ?  lucky . . .

. . . you / rose glass rear view mirror ?

( or )

 plans
 for
 next
 time
 round ?

from thehuffingtonpost.com

SEASON POPS

1.

smells like spring inside

tv talking to itself

sofa 
& 
blanket


2.

springs solvent abuse

after winters cooked bark

flying
birds
of
time

WENT FOR A WALK

TOY CARS ON WINDOWSILL.

BUCKOWSKI AND ME AT 43

i read buckowski
on the toilet
magically putting 
my guts in 
the plumbing

read his poem
about being 43
about the $22000 
in three months

his grey hair 
and pot belly
typewriter
in and out
of hock . . .

i stretched out
on the pm bed
on my side back
against the sun
hands in an 
almost prayer
in front of me

the endless 
lexicon
of workers
and managers
out there
behind me
making their
desperate moves

the little cat
comes to join me
so i know
i am doing 
it right

he lays down
in a mirror image
of me
his paws out
in an 
almost prayer

his claws touch
my fingers
his head rests
on the same pillow
his pot belly
his few 
grey hairs . . .

theres always 
poetry
endless poetry
behind the closed
curtains
and in
the dust

always fables
of the
storm cloud
written
by the
unkillable
husbands of
the moon . . .

my grey hairs
shaved away
my pot belly
slumped
same as
the cats
like two 
half empty bags
slung on the bed

he keeps his 
illness in 
check
eating right
doing his time

and so do i
and we close
our eyes
together
against
the incredible 
size of 
another
afternoon
and all
the things
to do

MAYBE IN BOLD - A POEM POME

  these Werds are inadequate 
  just a scribbled attempt . . .

moans the Poet over his breakfast eggs

  they come out so quiet
  might
  as
  well
  be
  a
  silent yell of breath

the Poet looks at the uneven prongs on his fork

  but such breath 
      such yelling would only
                         invite
                         dull
                         questions . . .

and the Poets eyes widen in fear  questions . . . but

  they can question the Poet
  but they cant ask the Poem

the Poet cries in victory  in vanity  (?)

  and the Werds had purpose once again
  like distance
  like stone

and freed the poet Wrote of animals ;

     now  these quiet animals 
   naked and woolly 
    have the dignity of weather green statues
     in  their living silence
  in their unattempted poise
   
   and
    there is mystery enough
         i think 
  in their multipurpose bleats
  
    they speak hard with their huge eyes
  and with 
       honest  and easy
   and  unapologetic
    habit
  and appetite 
      and action

and the Poet laughed all the way to brunch

from www.tvtropes.org

WELL ELECTRIC BLEEPS

  well the electric noise
 from the retro video game
   coming out my hd tv
     is primitive
      is a friend
   is old comfy socks for my mind

     i am still here
   i have lasted enough
        that
       these
 noises are nostalgia now

 i can enjoy the rose glow
    that never really was

~

 electric beeps back then
  they were a hound barking inadequacy
    to my tiny mouse
  confused
down
  by
 the skirting board
      too  few coins
 too  few friends

  electric beeps were acceptance then

  i had games
    i had a disk drive

 and tho kids came round
   they rarely came back again

~

    seaside arcades 
    were
  sand and
   sun cream
    shrill alarm bells
 dirty carpets 
  clinking change
         cigarette smoke
 smell of chips  
     smell of doughnuts
   tinny radio on a rock station
      and a fringe of danger

~
    
   seaside arcades
      were 
    hiding in the vampire gloom
     from  
  brown tan 
 spotless youth
   parading and playing
     with
 Perfection and Purpose
     in
      their
    uninterruptible
  healthysexlife
      drivinglicense   
        light 

~

i am so full with these flashback
     that 
   i
    head
       out
  to the lawn 
   for crisp air
    and the 
  mental enema
       of
clean and guiltless 
      
      Reflection
        with
   Perspective

aberystwyth from ashleyabroad.com

SKY, ANXIETY AND TELEPHONES

the sky is a grey i would call dishcloth
is calling the sky dishcloth fair ?

it is the SKY

the sky is blank canvas
the sky is lead  or leaden
the sky is an unmade movie
a child  also unmade
a clean sheet  dawn made the bed

there you go  better ?

anyway my anxiety finds a target
magnifies blemishes to the moon

who are you ?  it says
is this enough ?
what is enough ?
what are you doing  with life  today ?

it tells me i been mean to the sky

it laughs at my nascent plastic zen

~

the postman has nothing for me today
he is missing a front tooth  he always has a smile

anyway i am not dressed

i was interviewed to be a postie
they seemed unsure that i could get up early
they explained a posties bag gets lighter as the round goes on

it was weird  i didnt get the job 

theres nothing new for me to see out the window
number 4s new lantern is old hat now
number 2s detritus is static

always the red berry bush tho
full of brids
full of bees
spiders live deep inside

there is no one to look in and see me in the window

or there is

dog walkers
school runners
an anoraked active oldster with a purple plastic bag

no one looks in tho  i would  i do  if i am out

look in in the sweet spot  

early dusk
dark enough for living room lights
light enough out for curtains to be left wide

see the tvs on the chimney breast
blue light on faces

~

so my anxiety finds a target
a limpet on a forgotten carbunkle
act now  it says  or tomorrow is under threat

so today i am worried about battery leaks
its acid you know  alien blood
inside those little magic sealed tubes
inside those flat black slabs with a sticker on and gold teeth

i got a box of old mobile phones down there under those hardbacks  
theres memories of the streets in there

they got batteries

try explaining this tech abundance to an older generation
its upside down economics nan
i dont know what to do about that

the third world mined my superconductors with their hands
i dont know what to do about that either

i open this box
i take the batteries out the phones

i am worried about leaks you see

theres tobacco smoke words and old old plans behind the keypads
yesteryears anxiety on a circuit board

i go round the house taking the batteries out of everything
i put them in a freezer bag in a drawer in the back porch

i am worried about leaks you see

i leave the smoke alarm alone  duh
i leave the tv remote alone too  double duh
i leave them in the stereo remote too  mega duh

i even make it into the loft
dusty shapes of forgotten kipple loom in there

i can see outside thru bad masonry
i can see out the small window
useless and mysterious from the street i can see thru the bathroom extractor
see down to where we bath

i take the battery from an old camcorder
i ignore the tapes
fuck hell yes i ignore the tapes 

i sweat in the dry dust
anxiety has a lot to say

i know there is an old laptop up here
its got a skeletor sticker on it
its got a desert eagle sticker on it
i wrote a bad novel on it

i can picture it but i dont find it

and oh my god theres so much stuff up here !
i put that on the back burner with herculean effort

i sweat more in the dry dust

its like visiting my own back brain up here

~

anyway this box of mobile phones is memories of the streets

i hold one
a wap phone  remember wap phones ?

wap  wap  wap

a quick phone memory  more another time - 

it is the motorola i used when i had absinthe for lunch in hyde park
it was my birthday
we had no food

i remember office workers were coming out for lunch
they were getting their legs out for the sun

~

i remember how when mobiles were new or when i caught up and got one
i remember i would only use mine in a phone box  

ha

i would only use it in the rusty smell of old piss and fags
this made sense to me then
it was like it was some kind of progress protest

i would walk in the street with it ringing . . .

i remember there was that rich kid at college  
red soft top sport car  car phone  1989? 
twat we said twat 

that sentiment was universal then 

i remember my first glastonbury  1992/3?
i remember it was like a mad max barter town
i remember the beastie boys were on the friday night
i remember everyone who had a mobile ring there was RIDICULED  

that sentiment was universal then
  
i remember i left my blackberry at home once  20??
i went into town without it
i thought it would be fine 
it was bullshit  

just bullshit

you dont realise
you dont have the old network 
you dont have the old habits 

phone boxes now got the coin slot welded shut  
phone boxes assume you want to make an international call

just bullshit

~

i remember a burst of new phone boxes
it was like a rash  199?

i remember they appeared outside the macdonalds and seven-eleven
out where that girl bit that other girls ear off
trail of blood there for a week

i remember there was a whole paved square full of them
phone boxes  not ears  

they were all painted different colours  
they were all owned by different companies  
they were all different shapes and sizes
they came up out the high street blockpaving overnight  

some were internet phone boxes  

it was weird 
they all disappeared as quick as they came

it was some kind of deregulation ejaculation
no on else seems to remember this

anyway i done my bit to prevent battery leaks for now

~

loft . . . whispers anxiety 

from btphonecardcollection.co.uk