EMBASSIES ASSEMBLE

the sympathy avenues
are striped blue & gold

& spring bulbs are on hold
for tomorrows gardens

build up the molotov hoards

on the country fair stalls

~

oh 

abstaining / absent / exiled 

lord

how i wish
i was 

Ironman
today

& not 

jabbing fevered 

at the touchscreen
news feed refresh

helpless 

in sanitys

profanity

~

embassies assemble !
bland in tooth & claw

& i joined anonymous

i think

but am not sure

TOIL IN THE DISCONNECT

steel fish
on the
grey top

head upstream
to feed
to breed

to toil in the disconnect

meat destiny outsourced 

in evolved surrender

SAFER THAN TREPANNING

in the heave & low-fro 

of the slow-sick fug-fog
my brain does whine 

its white noise moan

skull boxes it 

it is muddy

i cant even wail

~

i go live in my belly

its simpler 

more animal

roomier 

safer than diy youtube trepanning

THIS IS WHY THERE ARE SEDATIVES

& my brain
is thinking 

about my brain
with my brain

like a ladder trying
to climb itself

a mirror turning its back 

in a mad effort to see

DESPERATE GEORGE

george is desperate
nuclear bomb new york desperate

he was in turkey five minutes ago
& asked about coffee he says

'i popped some stay-awakes on the plane'

hes wearing khakis with dress shoes -
the russian enjoyed pointing that out


~


george is desperate
hotel room egg squishing desperate

'still warm' he says

& in a desperate radio order
to NEST & FBI & NYPD & nicole

he says 

'stop anyone north of 55th with a backpack'

oh desperate desperate george

FAIRY LIQUID BUBBLES

with her 

shoulder-slung ipad

the child

looks like 

a starfleet trainee 

to me

~

i used 

to chase 

fairy liquid bubbles 

around the no-fi kitchen

with its

split-level stove

corner cubby

&

under-stair pantry

~

three channels 

broadcasting 

from lunchtime

night time 

closedown 

anthems

on the 

bulbous 

twist-knob 

tv

OFF-CUT POPS, EGO, TRUTH & CHIMPS

& ego says

sans evidence

that any silence from the earth audience

is
cos
of
mind-blown awe

~

the truest thing 

i saw online 

this week was -

'help me, i'am awake !'

~

the truest thing

i read all week

was -

'...the ever increasing importance

    of my afternoon shit...'

~

if 

its against the rules

in 

the house of commons 

to 

declare someone Liar

then

maybe they should drop 

the 

right honourable prefix

so sick of their faces

hooting like chimps

on the green seats

TAPPED INTO THE MUSHROOM

 

thru pain & desperation
comes slow a realisation

of the genus love

soft round the edges 

but mountain size

~

i have tapped into the mushroom

a neo-acid maybe

or a gibsonesque 

science fiction

information field

~

it doesnt last

i was having a bath

maybe far too hot

THE YES QUADROPHONE

 

insights elusive 

brainpan flatline

need drums / basic rhythm 

two chords enough i reckon

& vocals that frisson 

ramones / micra girls 

yes


~

i question the questions

with a stubborn silence

useless yes but it feels right

in the 

   white rabbits 

      late late late 

         wormhole blues


~


file me under side effects

for the twitches & itches 

& the cool clutter 

fights
the spartan dream

poetry was in the olympics once

naked

yes


~

i cross the junkyard mardyke

& count the cows

grazing on the floodplain 

inside the steel music

of the blacktop rivers 

yes

OFF-CUT DAWN POPS

 

again
birds yell-sing the new day in

horny bastards

they dont second guess this stuff


~

my head goes 

accelerator electric

in the hot water 

inspiration shower


~

dawn wears its golden codpiece

lighting up the houses down the hill

& still its yet not midnight

in  f a n t a s t i c  LA 

WHEN THE DUST IS PROVERBIAL

 

& promise me hollow

a footnote quote typo

on a dry bench plaque

& promise me like ad copy

a lit candle guttering

in a poverty draft

when the dust is proverbial

& the ashes too

~

& i will do 

what i can do 

to deserve it 

this morning

before afternoon auto-sedation

&

evenings anxious riptide suction

saving up my pennies

for a mushroom suit

every careless reset

HID HIS WORDS IN DIRGE

the first time i saw dylan

he was alien to me

DESIRE BOB PLAY DESIRE BOB

yelled the lunatic behind us

pissing off everyone near him

but the travelling mumbleberry
hid his words in dirge

& 

left the stage - 

left us 

with 

a 

p r o l o n g e d

double bass solo

before a mangled watchtower

~

the second time i saw dylan

i thought i was more prepared

but

his rodeo-pimp-chic

his full-on folkabilly barrage -

well i could not stop laughing

& 

i pissed off 

everyone 

near 

me

I WANT TO BE SHOES

when i grow up

i want to be

a humble & revered

old painting

of worn-in shoes

with always a queue of fodder 

for my people-watching pleasure

& long long

quiet quiet

museum peace nights

ALL THE MORNING FARTING

 

just a middle-aged man

eating the only apple he can

in front of the bathroom mirror

hes counting knives in his head
pondering level 2

& the things rock stars said

~

apple skin stick-stuck 

between teeth of course

     

& all the morning hes farting 

     

farting H E L P in morse

OBSERVE THE MOONLIT WOLF

you have coffee / you dont look at news

you know its the same / or worse

you peek / who are you kidding ?

fluid acronyms 

fight in fluid wars

assassinated strawmen 

impossible to mourn

selective famine

puts his choosing cloak on

greenbacks in his bone fist

& you with the full fridge

observe the moonlit wolf

~

the number men say

life expectancy is up

so very broadly speaking  

but i struggle to believe 

its a reliable indicator of progress

amazon yourself 

a same-day 

rain-dance mac

& 

head out to the narcissus ponds 

TO THE THAMES IN FOUR CORNERS

take the first left

then the first right
first left again
then second left 

& stop

you can see the thames from here

that storied history river

conrad dracula pepys
the ss richard montgomery

a thumbnail smudge
between the horizon cranes

BINMEN MY BINMEN

steel shrieks in the sub dawn

hi vis trash fairies 
purge the plastic proof

of our consumer guilt

consumer guilt paused 

like smoke in a photo

of

a

parisian balcony night

~

sometimes i wave to them
if i am up & backlit
in the front window

but i am too old for that

& it dilutes the magic

like a trumpet

in the trees

~


i feel
a tangible absence / a lightness
tugging the empty bins back in

consumer guilt . . . gone ?

no - taken

to foreign beaches 

for brassic foraging 

a plastic bird in the hand

worth two in the toxic bush