ABOUT A BEACH HOLIDAY

the cool night
& hobo dawn
prest a promise
the day mulls on

& in comes the naos of august

petrol spilt

on the services

yellow grid

concrete sea

~

then gulls cry in the ratine blue

&

now motorboats smoke their diesel

& we take lunch
in foil & in tupperware
to the beach

jellyfish & seaweed

tangled like warriors

in the wormholed sand

MOON WALLPAPER 1

when the dogs of war want walking
it is 

always 

only 

old men

far away who say aok

& loosed they go
playing drone fetch now
in the concrete parks
low-rise arenas

its hard to see
such carnivores
waste all
that young
fruit & veg

MIDNIGHT LANES

lighters changed hands

  with the theft as a game

kebab dregs spilled

  on the taxi rank concrete

cigarette smoke hung 

  in the bus stop rain

king skins folded

  into a marlboro soft pack

flat bottle nectar

  helped bogart the pain

& delirium shone
  on us / in jeans / back then

a sticky eighth tucked 

  in a rothschild pocket

electric moons lighting 

  our midnight lanes

  

TO A CRITICAL MASS

but too tho the silence

the dense & concrete silence

well it makes gains up around your chair

like its building to a critical mass

& it 

could be
what some
would use
the word
g r a c e 

about

just not me not yet

i call it a screaming pause

IN THE NIGHT WINDS AHOY

1.

the wood fence panels fidget
irritated
in their concrete hold-poles
behind the
wheelie bins hollow flap
&
in the night winds ahoy

grace gone
like the trees they were
are gone

& theres a to & fro about it all
out there

a forced system
a reduced symphony
out there

in the night winds ahoy


2.

& voices that might not be voices
faintly row out there
muddy aggro samples
buried in the techno
of structure & maintenance

plastic gutters
tremble & thrust
baby weak
in their cupping brackets
& against the small screws

in the dark winter of the world
& the night winds ahoy

HOSPITAL MORNING PT1

the hospital 

admin tower
is made of
pre-moulded concrete

on the site

of a gone

monastery

& 

its plastic smothered glass

catches

the echo of dawn in gold

& the salt of the earth

they toil in the soil there

thats barren & sterile

from government neglect

THIS IS OF COURSE . . .

feel anxious
dont fit here

how long can i hide
in the toilets ?

i
am
isolated 
in a state forced
peer compilation

please please please
let it never be my turn . . .

i
am
marooned 
in this cement block
on this cement apron

white lines
outline
accepted play

fields a tease
of 
invisibly
organised
thuggery

must i write down the date
at the top of every page ?

this is
of course
at school

from periscope.co.uk

POPS AGAINST THE GRAIN

HOLIDAZE

from brown surf froth

under developed 
eggshell heads
suicidally naive 

wash
up
on

single use 
holiday towels

all our names now
dragged thru
the
plastic mud



TUCK TUCK

burnt-out hatchback
on
the
cement shore

lard cube fat clots
bob round gone tires

from clinic exhaust-

theyre having
a
bogof sale

live-in nurses
never leave
the
concrete plaza



POLITICIANS

if i could believe them

then i could sleep

in denial
of the 
nuclear breeze

but i been ripped
across the grain

hatchet cleaved
the
kitchen trapdoor

from tumblr.com

ORWELLIAN RIPTIDE

what if its the clouds
that
are metal 
and concrete

the sky that is polished glass

and the ground under our boots
that
is nebulous

like
soup
like
steam

a swamp of passive inaction
        
        of the dormant anger
        of inherited guilt
        
        of decades 
        of distraction and denial

sucking and writhing
with
dangerous
deep
orwellian riptides

from forum.davidicke.com

CONCRETE OR BIRDSONG

would be easy to say

that
the
day
was dead

and 
that i sat there dead 

  like concrete

and
that
day is a naked and sober stale crust
dead
in
black water

but
instead
i listened and i heard
the
hum and cough of the fridge 
and
the 
whoosh of the pilot light
and
the
tiny splashes of the cat 
  drinking his water

all coming together 
pretty
as
birdsong

 from flutetunes.com