Showing posts with label castle. Show all posts
Showing posts with label castle. Show all posts

Friday, 23 October 2020

DIAGRAM OF THE LANE 1




sunday
after dinner
we would walk up the lane

farmhouse 
mad house 
boarded-up house

the horse on the gas land meadow

pigs to look at
& we wedged our toes 
in the stone walls crumble


~


abandoned
chalk pit 
rail tunnels 
& 
a castle gone
 
wars iron 
leftovers-
in a 
bramble tangle 
they rust in peace


~


grandad 
collected 
footy pools

a win for him
would have meant
legoland for me









from pinterest.co.uk



Friday, 26 April 2019

JELLY CASTLE DOES BAD DREAM




my
only bone bowl jelly castle
thinks its thinking it thinks

on
top
a
stick
of
calcium matrix & cartilage 

no good
blackdreams
are
autopilot default

end in cashgasm
weird new house
with 
ablution ceramics enormous
& too sensitive 
to dream side piss





Huge Toilet Paper Roll | Atcsagacity.com

from atcsagacity.com

Wednesday, 10 April 2019

2 MORE HOME POPS




SPRINGWINTER

bare foot
on the
back lawn
the energy
feels
weird
in this springwinter

outdoors
is
like
under 
the thunder carpet

all waiting
for a boom




RIND IN A KITCHEN SINK

poem came
last night

a puffer fish ether mumble

inflatable castle
back brain inaccessible 

too milky weak
for
this
pragmatic & robust
grey 
wall
dawn




Puffer Fish | The Life of Animals

from thelife-animal.blogspot.com

Friday, 21 March 2014

INSIDE JOE RIDGWELLS HEAD




is an undead London land 
of 
forever social clubs - tall white castles 
of 
hot old diamonds
cheap cold beer
free salty seafood 
where 
mirrorballs turn evil-eyes 
and 
hypnotic disco dots
on high artex ceilings 
and 
tall black windows 
and
dozens of black rollneck joes scitter on overdrive in there
saying
FUCK SHIT WHATEVER and I AINT GOT A PEN 
and
another dozen black rollneck joes 
recite sad poems in there 
of 
local hero boxers and dead corner boozers 
gone 
to 
eternal early doors and unknown graves 
on 
dark red stages of decks and wireless mics 
and
a simple table oasis in the eye of the storm 
holds fine artisan pages 
of 
joes hopes dreams memories 
scribbled and stabbed home and abroad 
in
motorised beer fuelled mashup 
and
dozens of black stocking dancers 
from old gone Hollywood - from Fante's dusty LA
throw elegant retro shapes 
with
impeccable held posture and cool knowing faces

like the hotel california - you can checkout anytime you like
but
you
can
never
leave






zorita burlesque dancer 1940’s from sloth unleashed