MORNING MADRIGAL

the 

autumn morning sun 

like

by an artists marker

highlights whitely 

the rounded plastic

of 

all the waiting bins 

& the cut-out shape of crows

tolerate our machine parade

from the slanted ridge tiles

of the bungalows

across the way 

THE WAY THIS IS GOING PT 1

 

the way this is going
is -

soon a poem will be 

one word

maybe two
or
a
nekrasov full-stop ripoff

placed just so


~

till then -

theres a red haze
natural but it dont look it
around the solitary cemetery tree

&

the crows there gaze askance

at the laminate stone markers

locking the carrion away

HABIT OF THE BILLS

the morning
RINGS 
with bells & birds

nights sweet undeath

r
e
d
u
c
e
d

to a
sepia wash

before you done your teeth

~

in bandit masks

calling gulls

attend 
the rag & bone man van

& crows
report homicides

too late

on
the
tv
spines

tickling the sky

round the cemeterys
bloodless
basin 

~

sacred pervs & empty reels
land sharks & electric meat

clock in 
freak out  

slow cooked
to collapse

in
the
habit
of the time thief bills

pic from amazon.com

RENNIE DONT CUT IT

britains
bellys
indigestion 
solid

swampy fens ate emerald cities

remedy is crow cake

cos rennie dont cut it

~

snouts in the roast beef
and white pianos
of sepia colonisation

snouts in the bold font
highlight shortcut
of tabloid instruction

~

knee jerk solutions
are
gospel
for the working club
gin drink
echo chamber
conversation

and the real ale beards
pack soybean satchels
for berlin in autumn

from sunshinestatenews.com

FOR CONTRAST AND CONTEXT

( in a dept store cafe )

theres a woman
cackling over 
her grandchild
then
she
lists
items
in a standard xmas dinner

her family are on their phones

theres an old lady
barking
like an asthmatic dog
like an emphysema crow
at
a
flaking pastry

theres her daughter
on crutches
talking
slow
so slow
slow as illness

and quiet as a cloud

theres a silent man
nothing to eat
no tea cup and saucer
a shine of use
on his knees
on his arse
of
his
cheap black asda slacks

theres a man in a cap
eyes invisible
check shirt
tucked in
trousers high
checking out the seed stand 
for 
20 
minutes

before choosing nothing

~

i dont fit in here
thats why i need to be here

( says
  my
  ego )

i make the picture

i represent
the contrast and context

no
one
is
looking for

( says
  my
  ego
  sadly )

~

just another meat puppet

dancing 
strings
pulling
at his arm
at his hand
at his pen
scribing
words
like
spiders legs
in 
a 
small lined
spiral bound
scribble pad

in a stop and start coffee dream

from thompson-morgan.com

CROW BAG

morning is grey and muggy
the sky a clinging old blanket
rough
itchy
sweaty

the road smashed crow is flat
flush with the black top
a 
wing
and
two feathers point up and wave in the traffic breeze
like an indian headdress

but

in the cool grey pm
the sky like a dishrag dripping dirty water
its
a black refuse sack blowing in exhaust gusts
stuck to
the
tarmac
by miserable adhesive waste

but
then

the next morning
sky like gym socks
heavy with the funk of use
i can see the twisted talons
and
a
smashed flash
of
yellow
beak
again