ABOUT FAUX PANIC

the 

uncertain electric rush
of 

red & purple anxiety
is 

you coming back online
& 

reconnecting your central nervous system
to
whatever hanging drek
passed
for consciousness before

BEREAVED IN RAGS

 

he saw theyre serving 

lobster bisque & onion soup
up on the ISS tonight

& it reminds him

he says
of Gil Scott-Herons poem
Whitey On The Moon

& he tries to remember

he says

that maybe not everything in the sky

means death all the time

as he waits

out the night

bereaved in rags

CONSISTENTLY PUNCTUAL FESTIVAL MEMORIES

wood smoke / hills of bass

the memories remember themselves

an automatic excavation 

of a layer cake of times

~

heroic turds / a drawstring baggie

& none of it fades

just relentlessly consistently punctual

& pungent

& lurid

& with a colourscape of rot

SMOKE FOR DAYS

you
got
a
rush
of crazy thoughts

in a bottle
in the fridge

but everything
is so of itself
dont you think ?
in these unspooling times 

where towers smoke 

for days & days
on a deconstructed 

hospital plateau 

NEWS WILL EAT

you better

spend some time

looking
somewhere else

you fragile sun of a gun

or that news
will eat

your soft heart 

alive

ABOUT THE MORNING

when it comes

slouching

out of its dark hide

grey with cloud

& pale with glitter

& trojan with potential

i announce the morning

to

be

a 

Gungabean Morning

as i have no other thoughts

& nothing else to say

~

 

a collage of eyes

from magazine paper

sees

more

than

me

ABOUT THE NIGHTSHIFT #1

there was a strange intimacy
in the dark victory
of turning the days 

against their grain

reheated nuggets / big macs / fries 

&

a leg wound sealed with parcel tape

but dawn blared banal 

too soon / too often

over 

the 

dashboard debris

OFFCUT SEGMENTARIES

my bones & brittle ideas

rattle like pills

when i am shook about

out in the porkish gales

~

rainy day opiates

in the kitchen bin now

left in the pocket

of a dead mans 

fleece lined 

winter shirt

~

premium regimental gloss

yes - premium regimental gloss

now the colour got back in

WILDLY & SUDDENLY EXTRA AWARE

this morning

time wasnt 

feeling so sure of itself

& it softly glitched across suburbia

discombobulation for its breakfast 

~

it delivered one of those moments

when 

you

are 

wildly & suddenly Extra Aware 

of the roofless sky to forever

Right There outside your door

above the higgledy driveway 

& the ripe tulips 

& the crawling ivy 

& the dog walkers

& the lunatic opposite

going thru his own bins again

WAR IS LOVER

the graffiti 

on the old rolling stock

in the purfleet sidings

in april or march of 98 

said

'the war is over
 long live the war'

& in mid 2003 or so

a capital L got added

'war is Lover'

& i still think about that

in lifes muted ad breaks

& 

the bathroom space between things

ABOUT RESISTANCE

their resistance
is my relief

& hope got out of bed for once

& went for coffee & cigarettes

a classic breakfast

when youre sick with worry

about the oceans & the sea

ABOUT FREEDOM

freedom
is
like
a 

payday bank balance

looks ok at a glance
but its all spoken for

KNOW YOUR RIGHTS, AN UNPOEM

 

'this is a public service announcement

... with guitar'

i was planning to write
a clever poem pop
rephrasing & updating
joe strummers clash song

know your rights

(all three of 'em)

for the current climate

of fuckery & balls
but i cant see

how i can improve on it

ABOUT THE ESTATE #2

on all the island triangles of grass

on the corners of the t bone streets

wild high until suddenly mowed

& 

on the wide high plateau of green

behind the squat crouching flats

there to mask the bin sheds

& the washing in the courtyard

there were council signs

in a clear beginners font 

that said - No Ball Games

it was just so mean
& i couldnt understand

would the police come ?

it seemed a very hard blow

for all the kids to weather

tho i found out

no one gave a shit

ABOUT THE BATHROOM BASIN

the stubble in the bathroom basin

clumps up into stubborn flotillas 

the strength in its numbers
is how to resist the kettling flow

well i got time . . . 

 

the rush of cold water

will shift them eventually

like cold water 

shifts everything eventually

if its blasted on

a shaved naked skull

ONLINE SHOPPING THRU YOUR LAST MEAL

all the circuses of time 

somehow gone to doom & rusting away

           ray bradbury

terminal kids

beyond-their-years medical knowledge

&

bald-headed
boil-in-the-bag serenity

is

tv
agitprop
to stifle our righteous rage

& they gaslight us
into a consumerist death wish

& i for one
sure feel the need

for some new shit
for when its time to die

ABOUT THE SKY #3

all the world under them
& space machines above

clouds of ivory & alabaster

& silver & slate & lead

are big like mountains

like moons 

like gods
& tell us 

be animal - be weather

scudding east & away
their friends to follow

in the savoy & bluebonnet 

of an opensource sky

ABOUT THE BLACK DOG

nazis & suits
& lockheed martin

& aramco & gazprom

& the leaflets in the door

feed the black dog
panting
in
my
yard

INTELLIGENCE FRAG POP

all the agent report
'...obliterated sources...'

as we watch 

our games shows & stories
in the wifi sop

THE FIRDAY NIGHT BOOKSHOP OF THE MIND

in the friday night

bookshop of the mind

the oversoul
does a reading
just for me

when i am stretched out

debased on the sofas throw

~

& these poems
out the ether

well i can let them go

like throwing back a fish

my hands must remember

they dont need to always

stain the paper blue

ABOUT NUMBERS STATIONS

theres radio
in the netherspace

that plays only songs i know

its like a numbers station
but broadcasts rock n roll

~

its signal strength depends

on

my

alignment of invisible antenna

but the message 

is always clear -

in a gadda da vida honey

yonder stands 

your orphan

with his gun 

ABOUT THE SKY #2

now the uniform pewter lid
of an overcast sky

is troubled & unfinished

is britain !

is flat-roofed pubs

& feels like anything goes

outside the edges

of the snapshots

cropped frame

ABOUT THE SKY #1

blue skies - a palette cleanse

in 

the 

chaos of context tombola

i stand under its painted dust

transfixed like a bug

& think & think

& stop that

& be

its a powerful balm

for the evident weight

of a thinking soul

GIGOT BITUME

who was the poet
who wrote about
the beast slouching towards us all ?

cos i can sense 

its shamanic mandibles

& archaic gait

in the treeline of the woods

&

in the shadows from the walls

its breath hot as fresh bitumen

gripping its aggregate base

~

it will cook & carve & consume us

in celebration of its construction

like the french do
with a leg of lamb

ABOUT THE ESTATE #1

24 karat 

orange brick

like mortared bullion stacks

&

alleyway byways

night mugger dark

from end-terrace monolith loom 

&

spilt oil rainbows

shining & purple & magic

cupped in the pebbled concrete

out !

out in the golden hour

before he knew its name

~

hand-me-down low-tops 

stash of fruit pastilles

oscar mike 

on a bike

after tea

ABOUT DEDICATION

those people who exaggerate
& outright lie thru their teeth
about how wasted they got
about the hell they raised
& the mess they became
to impress a different circle

really devalue the work & effort
the dedicated rest of us made
to get really bent & derelict
after-hours in the fields & marsh
in the fog with the cattle
hysterical & leaping
at the heavy blur of the moon

 

ABOUT THE FUTURE

the androgynous
& softly beige

intergenerational crowd

gather at the seasons change
around the dry monolith

of the last standing tree

~

they murmur the old rumours again

about the old god Cloud

& how he caught the whole world one time

& bade them worship glass

ABOUT HEADPHONES

the day has not been roses
&

it is hard 

to think about 

what it was like before
the corruption & misfires & spiders

& god is in the headphones
if anywhere

under asbestos sky 

on a sheetrock hill
flossing with a bass string

LAMPS TRIMMED & BURNING

some
of
us
always pull lamp duty
on the cold windowsill

clamps left on
the
glued wood topper
of
the venetian blinds

ABOUT PIERCE BROSNAN

in an experimental jet boat
on & under 

the surface of the thames

you chase down an assassin

& you roll it

& in a halo of bubbles & white water

of course

thats 

when you straighten your tie knot

ABOUT DAMASCUS

age & its rising descent

play at profundity today

like a road to damascus moment

if damascus is the corner shop

& the moment 

a rest at the corner

on a low brick wall

under strung cables 

buzzing from signals 

caught from the sky

WEAK TEA VISION

it is an overcast
& room temperature day

a day that tried for more
& turned out like weak tea

there is a sense of something 

forgotten / lost / gone

& a feeling of something

missed / wrong / skewed 

& then there comes a moment 

when i think / feel / know 

that if i turned round now
my grandparents would be there
 
a reassuring perfection

of themselves

maybe even hand in hand

in beige & smiling

ABOUT FLAGS

when 

i 

saw 

them

i called my red flags
wine overflow

& necessary blood

& green flags
just more ego juice
for the hero gravy

FAR FROM THE TUCKSHOP QUEUE

us kids numbed & agog

who unzipped their coats 
to catch the blow & sail

of parkside autumn wind

are accidentally now adults

in a rush of penumbra

& the jumping blur of it

far from the tuckshop queue

GARDENERS VAN

 

time has become . . . tactile

like a sensory toy

in a drs wating room

patinaed with irremovable gunk

~

& next door - the gardener

his van is evident

in the patent street

NEVER HAVE GONE

theres a tape in me
that plays back 

old friends voices

with such timing 

that its like

they never
have gone 

~

this conjured backing

is flowers that bloom

out the stomped dust 

IF THE RAIN, A FRAGPOP

& next year

i will be older

like a tree is taller

if the rain & sun

KEEL OF CRUMBS

& rain came
perpendicular & small
& i listened to the rain
& i thought a thought
& the thought thunk me

in
a
sunday mornings
keel of crumbs

soul itching
like a microdose tease

feet up

chow down

& wonder

THE GIVING BOX

i put the tv on

& its not a show hes famous for

& i never knew he was in this show

or even knew of this show at all

but 

it was very very nice 

to see that avid urgent fireball

that is rik mayall again

PUT LITTLE TRUST IN TOMORROW

whoever said
seize the day
must have been high

it comes at you like a ramrod
like a haymaker of light
like a newspaper taxi ramraid
thru a pawn shop window

youd need hands
like andre the giant
or a glove
like thanos

not my mere mortal mitts

of meds & meat & mistakes

SOME MAD SCIENCE

i know we CAN touch
& how important touching is

but i keep thinking
about how we CANT touch

how touch 

is resistance

is pushback 

from the atoms & forces

in our own reaching fingers

& upturned faces

& small animal palms

& cold night time feet

& i love me some mad science
but i cannot forgive it this

THE FACE OF DEATHGLO FEAR

well 

youre a person
just a person
like an everyday person
of meat & appetites & deathglo fear 

well
youre just collateral damage

everyday collateral damage
in the culture wars

bullshit timewaste

of impetus & ignorance & fear

& i am happy to see you 

lighting the grey retrograde streets

of the plumb citys boar

with your optimist flags
of freedom & future & fandango 

in the face of everyones deathglo fear

HOW WE BLEW IT

all 

the
WE did this
&
WE did that

how WE failed mother earth &
how WE squandered paradise &
how WE cut down all the trees &
how WE poisoned the rivers &

how WE melted the glaciers 
how WE blew it &
all that

well i dont feel 

i should be included
as i didnt do any of that

& neither i bet did you

LIKE BUTCH & SUNDANCE, A TV POP

born strange & shared

in a corporate world

so 

they 

run 

then

hand in hand

toward the camera

together together

& into 

a film grain 

freeze frame

like butch & sundance

before

the

credits

crawl