DIAGRAM OF A STREET 1/2

peep hole blinds
show supper
show yellow light
show empty chairs

~

used-up done-over 
CRTs 
loll dumbstruck 
in 
front yard pits

~

rotten timber fence
corrals
home branded
wheelie bin
trash steeds

~

thru a 
rental
front room
bay window

no picture hangs
on the fireplace wall

~

old bungalow
now MOT office

flake paint eyesore
charms me

from imgkid.com

SAME BRANCHES SEASONAL BLOOMS

i dont know what to write
i do know what to write

but
i worry
i wrote it
before

same branches
seasonal blooms

~

i got field experience-

theres paint fragments
imbedded forensic style
in 
my 
fender-bender forehead

from the dense tense years 
of
deep cover
anthropological 
black ops

~

but 
i worry 
i wrote it 
before

same branches
seasonal blooms

still i pick them tho
cos still they still grow

from pixshark.com

GREY DISCO BALL

the 
dawn 
breaks 
itself

monday - still as dust

its a grey disco ball

dancings over
and the weekend dreams 
that seem gone

gestate desperate
between
the
clocks
base markers

from idiotphotographer.wordpress.com

TV FILM BOOK 3

TV FILM BOOK 2

THATS THE WORLD - No ONE

look
up

past the polyester stats
past the franchise police 
past the hatchback parade
past the stacked up
         staked out
         sugar tease

past the coroners
estimated time of death

thats the world

~

so look up

theres 247 sky
clouds like art

best seats in the house

the sun

the sun

dude !
the sun 

that the world - the best seats in the house

no cement yet 
up there 

from wallpapercave.com

( tho no

  twinkle twinkle little star...
  
  night carpet bombed

  by

  urbanisation )

THATS THE WORLD - No TWO

you see
the world
on tv

thats the hard sell 
thru a popcorn prism

go outside
look down at your street

lose your reality cherry

thats the world

from photographyblogger.net

THATS THE WORLD - No THREE

the
bludgeoned grey streets
truck hammered
crumbling mask
leaks green 
out its
creeping cracks

thats the world

from sixo.deviantart.com

DONT FORGET TO SEND ME A POSTCARD

i know you not got time for this

no one got enough time
to nail enough down

before the wind
comes in
for the veil

~

so i will just say this -

i smelt 
the roses
for you

theyre overrated

i told them 
they are
just a wonderful metaphor

but they said
its not their problem

~

now your turn -

go get shitfaced
in some awful
shopping mall bar
just for me

then hit the truck stops
looking for pinball
night breakfast
and the dust
of a sleepless night

stolen cigarettes
in the secrets
of your pockets

~

dont forget
to send me
a postcard

and
thanks 
for 
stopping by

from pinterest.com

THE THOUGHT OF A CLOUD ACROSS THE SUN

theres two states-

the ok oblivion bubble

chat
you know
tv

youre on the case
and everything
is in its box

a comfortable surrender
where everything
matches up
just enough

to sit still and look at the lawn

or-

existential
planet dying
hyper awareness
anxiety jag

curious cackling angles flushed out
and
  nothing 
    is nothing 
      is nothing...

and between-

a cotton thread wriggling
like
happenstance
in
the
wind

the thought of a cloud
across the sun

from lookingtothesky.com

TV FILM BOOKS 1

CAFE MADRIGAL 1 - STOCKHOLM ON TABLE 12

motormouth woman 

her mother & her husband 
held captive

beyond stockholm 

doing their job
they absorb her million words
like soft meat baffles

eating
in 
tolerant 
absent 
silence

saturday morning
table number 12

on number 10
i am in a bubble
with a mug of joe

waiting on something
to explode

from brisbanetimes.com.au

CAFE MADRIGAL 2 - MAUDE MAUDE MAUDE

homewares shop

early / weekday

not busy yet

i sit under a false ceiling
in their corner cafe approximation

and i really dont want to judge
but who 
employed
that
sluggish mouthbreather
ruling
the
checkout till ? 

coffee machine
beyond her
tunnel vision
hamfist
capabilities

who barked
MAUDE MAUDE MAUDE
to
get
me
a
simple cup of joe 

her dull eyes smug
pink and yellow
and judgemental

enthroned in joggers
in
her 
tiniest
of
kingdoms

from stylemann.com

CAFE MADRIGAL 3 - VALIDATION RUSH

and if this place
doesnt feel real

it may be cos its not

like the singer said -

'i am on the moon
 but more so'

~

and i listen
and i try to follow

what
the
people
say

what 
these
mutants 
bark

spayed sanctuary un-wolves
too blinkered 
to see the moon

~

but its all said so quick
all some open sluice rush
( filters long time binned )

just to get it said it seems
( tick that box )
and a need to hear agreement

essential morning validation
over bacon
in the breakfast cafe

~

it
clears
their
day

( i am supposing )

to fish for more 
building resentment

they can escalate

with 
  unconscious 
    silent 
      internal 
        repetition
  unconscious
    silent
      internal
        repetition

during the tv night

ready to blast again
at
the
next
days
yes-man breakfast

from tripadviser.co.uk

BAD CLAY TANGERINE PRESS

buy it and others here -

  Tangerine Press  

  Walking Wounded  

  Bad Clay  

  Ford Dagenham  

  with illustrations by Jase Daniels  

CAFE MADRIGAL 4 - REHAB CHIC

waiting on coffee
at a window table

by the cake stand
rotates slow as me

my
comfort
layers
sag
like rehab chic

and opposite
cars come to get juiced
on the mugwump cement

cost written in the sky

from soundcloud.com

CAFE MADRIGAL 5 - THEY READ PAPERS

they read them
dont they

those yellow papers
left about
in 
the
supermarket cafe

they buy them
dont they

in habit
with a touch of pride

keen for the indignation inside

and they read them
dont they
in
the
supermarket cafe

where everyone can see them

their naked lunch on display

and
their reflux
tomorrows
front page

from pxleyes.com

ROOFS / ROOVES

THE STREETS UNDER THE SKIES

ITS NEVER HERE WHEN I WAKE

eyes shut
i tumble some

and something happens
and i dance inside

kind of - its blurred

like its the past in there

or
a
riddle
of days to come

and theres a book there i read from
thats never here when i wake

POP #1110a & 1110b

the past cold-calls
like its got a hotline

i am bluetooth synced
with yesterdays mire

it 
whispers 
passive aggressive
breaths
of
happenstance and blame

i unplug

i look forward

a whole twelve feet

to supper
and the wind-down warmth
inside our walls

~

autumn burns down
your heart locker

and everything gets out

and everything dances an old dance

in the low swung 
sepia
sunlight