ANIMALS

well isnt it all 
a meat theatre
of high risk 
audience participation 

where the dogs 
feed the sheep
the shit from the bulls
like the pigs said

all the scenery anyway
has long been sold 
for headlines
and fools gold

and when the 
curtains are down
and when the 
lights are up 
the dogs 
cant look up from the sheep
and the sheep 
cant look up at all

from nydailynews.com

AFTER READING 2 - FIVE POPS ( LEGS )

( after reading bathside i wrote - )


1. MENS LEGS

buckowski
had good legs
big balls

so he said
acne wrapped on a sidewalk
brave for once
on rye

well 
i am 3.1% neanderthal
with model quality feet

and 
my
balls
will
do


2. WOMENS LEGS

theres women gone forever

pulled out
onto paper forever

khol and lippy a masked ball 
of downers 
and wine

smoking thru
their readings

done 
selling 
whitegoods

with their legs


3. WORKING LEGS

men played ball by the river

innocent summer
cold alaska cabin

never spoke of the rain
never spoke of the snow

legs ached at night 
from the woods and the work

one left the other
who is left writing by the woodchipper
of 
all the ropes 
all the ratchets
unhanded
of
the stone mountains of words unsaid


4. EZRAS WORDS GOT LEGS

ezras commitment for words for all

for all 
them mall workers 
them meth truckers
them charity muggers
them banker motherfuckers

east coast west coast
southern hemisphere outpost

was heard was heeded 
by other writingslobs

while he layered himself up and away and down
in the meadows
by the streams
with the peasants 
in the past


5. LEGS TO WALK ON

read what the typingslobs write
in their burnt rug nights
in their hungover hero bottletop dawns

sick and fatally doubtful 
like reformed hams
the real ones
walk the same work and fear
as
any
everyday streetside monster
beside 
you

Ezra Pound at the Home of William Carlos Williams, Rutherford, New Jersey, June 30, 1958

AFTER READING 1 - FOUR POPS ( WHILE ENGLANDS DREAMING )

( after reading poetry bogside i wrote - )


1. DUH

in the fear 
of a down and out doormouse
charity sponsored
by an alley cat

there is poetry

in the fog horn pink dawn
in your winter glove

there is poetry


2. LOVEMEAT

a kind of music gets in the words
its like light thru cracks
dawn thru a bullethole

and i can see beyond 
the rope and the gallows
and i can see outside 
the hammer and the anvil

a kind of foodchain gets in the words
poems are like animals
hot mammals at rest or rage

they can turn a man to stone
lovemeat in their teeth



3. PLUMBING SINGS

i read the rooming house madrigals
in the 6 am bathroom

the cat eats his treats
in the hallway

he lays his lazy arse down

the plumbing sings a song
and while englands dreaming
the plumbing will sing tomorrow
its truer song
just the same


4. CORTISOL AND CREAM

i read hitler painted roses
in my grandmothers old chair
the one dorothy used to perch on
like a tiny bird

and out there
there is lightning 
over the river
beyond the bungalow horizon

and out there
there is a storm horizon
like smudged mascara 
a stripe in the jammed tv sky

and the sails of my drydock argo
are wild with typos and cortisol 
whipped up with wind and cream

MODERN LIFE IS SPERMICIDE

  why would i force a nobody somebody
   out of the nowhere firmament 
 to see the best we could be 
  but to live in the worse that we are 

    when modern life is spermicide ?

   but this does not make me feel 
 like a full stop or period
    but rather an exclamation mark
 with maybe a hint of a question
        strictly rhetorical 

      and i am embarrassed by my world
       or rather by us 
   endlessly digging in her wounds
      and afraid i cannot laugh

   when modern life is spermicide

 it seems to me we are camped out
         in pimped out caravans 
       having a last holiday 
     at the end of the world

      living a euthanasia
   of karaoke and football
        our only heroes on tv

from redbubble.com

I SAY/COMA POPS

1.

theres lots 
of people 
out there
indignant and 
newly horrified
cos of 
the politics
these days

they stamp
their feet
they use
new words 
they learned
last week

i say
welcome to
the game

where have
you been ?


2.

lots of 
people saying
imagine some 
poor person
waking from 
a coma
and seeing
all THIS 
on the news

i say
i was
in no coma

dont undermine
my shock



3.

talking 
of shock

well im 
in it

i never
took my
eye off
the ball

and i 
float about
in ptsd
these days 

saying we 
survived worse . . .

and still 
not keen
to breed



4.

and whats
comas got
to do
with it ?

its just 
shorthand 
to imply
your/our 
bameless
surprise

i say
wake up
and smell 
the 
black money
the
arms trade
and 
the
superconducter complicity 
charging on 
your nightstand

from moneyinternational.com

FICTION POP 7 INSPIRED BY THE LAST KING OF SCOTLAND

FICTION POP 6 PEACE AND BAD TIMING

there is peace on earth
basically achieved thru music
( yes i know ! )

all the nations launch their nukes into space
obviously no one needs them anymore
even israel
( yes i know ! )

for five months the sky is like fireworks
all other weapons are melted down too
everyone builds ambulances with the iron
everyone builds windfarms with the steel

almost by osmosis everyone is sheltered and fed
everyone has water

nasa collects all the gunpowder
nasa collects all the grenades
nasa announces a bulletship to mars
nasa announces mars to be a waystation
to united peaceful and awesome exploration

due to cosmic coincidence
three alien races are approaching

one is the last of its kind
frieghting galactic knowledge
in a container tanker of answers

one is a young pioneer
best described as a multideminsional escapee
in a kind of pimped space hotrod

they are quickly destroyed
in our careless riot of peace
( yes i know ! )

the third alien is best described as a computer
it extrapolates its own destruction
it decides to err on the side of caution
and launches an eye for an eye reaction

tho ignorant of these spaceside events
we do all die happy and hopeful

hal 9000 from 2001 a space odyssey 

FICTION POP 5 GUNNY

FIND MEADOW

where is a great empty space 
a space
where politics is irrelevant 

antarctica ? 

with herzogs aztec king
and lovecrafts 6 foot penguins 

anyway
my mind conveniently left me 

the birds shat onion grass under the apple tree
and that bee big as a golfball that got inside 
well i got him out again

and
i
wrote something 
something good enough
something worthy enough
to read aloud
in a soft english meadow naked all the way to space 
coloured with nodding buttercups and patchwork dairy cows

i called it wire in the glass
i called it the veal and the chicken
i called it the moon men from mars

i put a note in my diary-
find meadow it says

then i count the bruise shades
in the killed grey sky
waiting for the streetlights to come on

theyre new lights theyre white now
and out the front round the sunflower fence
it looks like theres always an oncoming car

from nationalparks.gov.uk

FICTION POP 4 HANK SAYS

I TOOK PICS OF THE TV ( LAZYTOGRAPHY)

PLANTS, TREES, ME

FICTION POP 3 ANGELS

OUT THERE ( A DECREASING POP )

and out there 
in the jammed world
open-carry cleopatra
and the central banker
wear camo hats
and apple mouse mats
to visit the coffee shop santa

and out there
on our forbidden planet
bodiceas in a stab vest
cleaning graffiti for george best
and the greens
cant be seen
cos of bbc bias

and out there
in the city canyons
freeze dried aunt bessie
gets oil-spill messy
housing bees
and saving trees
so it all looks like yesterday

and out there
in a blinkered dream
the pastors daughter is stuck
dreaming and scheming  
for an imagined 5 mins
of rosey 50s living
thats as likely 
as colonel sanders selling duck

FICTION POP 2, ANGELS UNICORNS BOWIE

NEWS IS A BLACK DOG HUMPING MY LEG

   8.30 AM
 the cat pads across the quilt
   he puts a paw of claws
 gently into my cheek
  like its my  ON  button

 tick tock its injection o clock

       i say 
     i'm on it fella 
  it comes out as a morning growl
   he is patient
  he is used to waiting  for me 
      as i slowly 
     fall out 
    of my dreams

  i fold myself out the bed
 like a collapsing deckchair 
    i walk to the kitchen
  my legs like dry wood

     i puncture his scruff 
 with a needle again
      he is very good
     he is completely still
 and in the smudge of sun on the lino
  he is a wonderful black-brown today

      i realise he is part of me
       those kitten eyes at 17
          his neat paws
    part of our life and day

 i manage to brew a coffee
     i manage to check the news . . . 

 . . . i am back under the quilt
    wondering why the govt this
      and why the govt that
       and why i even looked
     and what did i exactly expect to find
            in the 
           phone screen
         poptart 
           headlines ?

    the black-brown cat
  has had a drink of filtered water
   had eaten his renal biscuits
       is padding up the quilt
        curling into a circle
    resting his back and warmth
     against the pain in my hips

 i rest a hand on his miniature shoulders

        i still find it a wonder
    that this little naked animal
       likes me so much
      
         soon he is snoring
  like apnea like asthma like a tractor
    no news needed

FICTION POP 1 THEY CAME FROM OUTER SPACE

B&W GARDEN

SPRINGS

LONDON MEMORIES (AN APRON OF FREEMASONS)

pm isnt it
leicester square 

a raggedy glamorous maybe rentboy
links my arm talking about company
his eyes alight with a morning hit

i rescue my arm dont i
telling myself
he thinks i am a rock star

its the sunglasses isnt it
people always look
at sunglasses without the sun

leicester square
movie remake why hollywood why
still we are curious

red guide ropes
i am trapped 
in red guide ropes 
drunk 
laughing 
a fool arent i

i am only looking for dark
and a story to escape into
inside we could be anywhere

movie is full of mojitos
bad dialogue  
flash cars
and after i am needing another drink bad
my mind dried
like a forgotten potted plant 

so then wooden pubs isnt it 
old as the river
ornate ceilings like art
and i am timeless
and i am strong
and i am accelerated
and i am refueled 
and i speak of my love of wooden pubs 

( wood
  its good
  it feels
  like it should )

so shoot pool isnt it
smoke hangs like mountain cloud 
no air in here
no air moving anyway
everything is on the corner of stagnation
sweat in circles under my arms
short sleeve bad check crinkle shirt
so i hold scotch ice to my forehead dont i

so then we drink our way east
pictures on paper money
as made up as anything

see bob fossil order a beer
no no no not him
who is it who is that
its lucien sanchez 
and hes got an ale

see freemasons leave their hq
silent fat suited secret phalanx
leak out their huge stone monster 
one city block long 
they come in this bar dont they
single file like a field trip
and they go up the backstairs
no eyes on anyone

then we are over the road arent we
laughing at their ornate aprons
arcane books
solid mystery
in their exclusive freemason shop window

and all the pubs 
are all weirdly empty
just us isnt it
and disinterested barmen
nuts for dinner  
and all the streets 
are all weirdly empty
just street cleaning carts
driven buzzing electric
by hi-vis immigrants
city blending and city mundane 
its some side passage
secret london isnt it
painted windows and wedged open doors
record shops that never open

i leave my fingerprints 
on all the brass poles
i leave my dna 
in all the cold back room pissers

and i wonder if we have found heaven

or at least a place outside politics

a drinking bubble isnt it
long may it last
amen

from freemasonrytoday.com