BUTTON DOWN POCKET OF HAND-ME-DOWN FLARES

when i was a small me
i read some books about a kid

with a special key & a magic cat

i might be recalling it wrong
i might not be telling it right

but i remember 

being compelled 

to attempt the same 

i acquired an orphan key 

to a long gone mortice lock

& i carried it inside 

a button-down pocket

of my hand-me-down flares

always worried i would lose it 

&

the only cat i knew

was a sack of alley scratch hisses

& 

the magic

is here now

in the rosy gem

of hinterland hindsight

photo - Edward B&W Fade from the Dagenham Archive

POP SALAD VOL1

certainty

what does that feel like ?

is it
a crown of ice water
on a heat wave noon
at you beck & confident call ?

or

never ever needing 

to check your pockets

every 20ft ?


~

its a childhoods greatest hits

polished clean
& neatly packed
in your cv rucksack

a lifelong soft glow backing

photo Sunshine on Easy Street courtesy of the Dagenham Archive

THE COURAGE OF THE FLEA

young man on a silver crutch
leans
up
against
shoeszones laminated blue plastic facade

cocky as a tom cat
greeting
i cant see who

like the worlds his oyster
like the suns out 
like its los angeles
like hes steve freaking mcqueen
with a car accident knee

when all it is is londons cement floptide

but
theres
a
streetside
fog
here
that smells like life smells
that smells like childhood smells

smells like story books 
and adventure tv
where every kid has a torch
in their backpack
and a reason to use it too

and if you shut your eyes
there is almost no armour
there
at
all
and you can almost
see the stars you are
see the clockeye walls
see the courage of the flea

and hes probably ok
whoever the hell he is
mr hopalong by the shoezone
he is facing the day
with his head up
in
another
uk
morning
divided for conquer
and identical to itself

the morning is 
just another 
polaroid vignette
shining
darkly
in
a
market stall puddle

and we are all running
like flood alert rats are running
with 
the courage of the flea
thats
uncommented
unnoticed
every newspaper day

and the headline bile
is autogenerated offshore
and i wonder of the bees
the courage of the bees

and what shall we be
when they
lay
down
their
stripes forever
in one last pollen dusk

and
will
i
be
old
and
gnarly
one day
and tell a grandniece or two
how
i
saw
bees
coming and going that summer
from
the
hive
under
my back step

how i saw them come home
on the magnet lines
when the sun fell
in that long gone summer
when
i
still drank
still ran 
with the courage
of the flea

and i file 
more nothing-almost-something now
into another binary crevice
in
the
dirt online

i write and file
under the frozen birdshit faces
of all those statues
of all those dead men
mounted on dead horses
on
all
those
mighty
plinths 
high
above the fag butt gutters
where plastic bags
fly like art
on groundwind

i write and file posey
in the grime of the mirror world
we made in our unthought image

its pandoras echo chamber
built of wire and fools gold

so i write and file soft reports
disposable and unrushed
like
li po
and
buckowski 
setting fire to their folded posey
by
the
river
sharing a bottle
in their shirtsleeves
watching
the
drains
overspill

li po buckowski  
lazy enough
to
wait
wait
wait

and wonder
how is it people get worked up
enough
to war

or a backstab hashtag

but fail
to see
the courage of the flea
the leaving of the bee

and theyre blindsided easily
by the 
shoezones blue laminated facade
and
they
dig
deeper
into
the
broadband riverways
dense with
fragile ships
flying flags
of
new shoes
and
photoshopped abs

from library--of--babel.blogspot.co.uk

PAPER AND INK NO 6 CHILDHOOD

IN THE ALLEY BETWEEN CHILDHOOD AND BILLS

if the gods are anywhere
theyre
in
the
silence when we stop - at last - for breath / time out
and
a
cigarette / muffin / a walk streetside in notime

maybe theyre 
in
the
back stairwell / under the steps
in
that nowhere corner / that leftover space
with
the abandoned decorators wooden ladder
and
the bike lock locked forever / arrested and undeveloped

hiding 
from 
what
they
did - taping up wounds / retired and ruminating 
in
the
alley
between childhood and bills

 from comixtakoma.wordpress.com

THE PEADO ISLES

who ?
no !
him on the tv all the time ?
but
didnt
he
have
a
knighthood or something ?
how many ?

f u c k i n g  h e l l  . . .

but
he'd
have
all
those kids on his show ?
and
that
charity stuff - a cover ?
he lived where ?
his
own
room
in
a
hospital ?  and in a prison ?

h o l y   m o n k e y  . . .

how long it been going on for ?
and
no
one
said anything ?
oh they did
but no one listened ?

s h i t  . . .

i used to watch him on tv all the time
who else ?
no !
but i used to watch him all the time too
my whole childhood
spent
watching
peados
on 
the
tv !
and the police ?  the BBC ?
perks
of
celebrity you say ?
and MPS ? 
in
a
murder
brothel ?

s h i t  . . .

no one say anything ?
they did ?
missing files ?
oh
of
course

dont tell me anymore -
maybe should get out of here
run
away
to
nice quiet Jersey . . .

hang on - what happened in Jersey ?
for how long?

f 
u 
c 
k 
!

 

 from neogaf.com