SWEET JAM TO SWEETEN

 

seize the jewelled dawn
with whatever hands
the night leaves you

its sweet jam 

to sweeten
the steamrolled bullshit

of another 

flattened 

pancaking day

BLOGGING / WRITERS WAY / A RHYME ?!

its thirteen years 

since i decided stoned
to write a poem a day 

until i die or dont

& i havent died 

& i mostly do
weekends off

some weekdays too

& typing up the meat weather
& the cracked prism shine

i showed me i was more 

than a sponge for wine

& tho i write enough 

to post something daily
my blog is tired 

& needs a redux badly

& sober now

as a coffin nail

i have evolved i think

from the cocktail wail

& it keeps me honest 

like they say
this discipline

this writers way

& like Bad Clay

i now have books aired

so very many thanks

to the publishers who dared

OR BUBBLEGUM

but was a baby
like we all were

before 

being

s t r e t c h e d 

on

the 

rack of the world

like a dali clock

or bubblegum

& pumped full of filler

& cheap grout that stains

~

always 

wondering

what day 

today is

& 

how it was

that we used to know

OBSOLESCENCE FURY

its wednesday
or thursday
or friday
or whatever

& tho acid blemished 

in the threadbare patches

with pink shapes of sun
morning is a folded stack
of over-washed towels
gone no colour at all

& up in the tv skies
bent wires tremble
with obsolescence fury
in the wifi wind

& the sentinel shingles

& the bitten pointing

who have seen it all

EMPTY AS A TYRE IS EMPTY

theres a moment after we wake

a glimpse out of time
empty as a tyre is empty

before we remember It All

& the day
never does
recover

from this absence 

we had 

no chance

to prod

SANATORIUM OF THE MIND

 

what a beautiful day 
to draw the curtains on

& retire again at noon

into the sanatorium of the mind

sun on the pillows 

the pillows a fort 

the evenings falldown

still 1000 dreams away

CREATIVITY WILL SET US FREE

if i see 

even halfway thru
the veil of you

if i put my fist
in the face 

of the fuckery of you

if theres Something
there NOW

that wasnt there
before

then that
was a day was a day 

yes indeed

& deserving of
animal sleep

from bbc.co.uk

POUNDSHOP HEADSPACE, A PILL PACK POP

SOME WEDNESDAY POPS

INTRINSIC NAME ROMANCE

andalusia
corpus christi
&
the milk mountains

bear creek
moses peak
&
the silverlink service
to gospel oak

~

maps make order
make dreams

&
its ok with me
if the same 7 11s there
open
late

in a 
heart warming rendition
of different evening air



GENERATION NEXT

hes sure 
theres hope
floundering up
out the undertow

a dovetail of brains & balls
fingers crossed
touch wood

in
the
tech
heavy
hearts
of 
Generation Next 

~

bluetooth babies
shall OWN
the collateral circles

but he feels like a dinosaur still

his 50s gut
his rabbits foot

every day 
expecting to see

a
motivated
comet
replace
his
dial-up 
sun

or disease like an asteroid
come & mock
the 
pool table rules
mid-game


MAGIC & MIRACLES

magic & miracles

well they always happening 

just
in 
the 
margins

& you need drink-talk in your guts
a mad edge fenestration
satellite objectivity

to
get
you
off the beaten busted road
of hummed drummed material witness

& see
the glitch-clicker

count 
     on 
       up



WAIL

so wail yes wail
wail the blinkers off
at
the
salami asylum slices
of 
miscellaneous fuckery

ring the grief
out the 
singing bells

in the obscene nothing
of 
wednesday 11 AM
blank wall rebar 

that
takes
you
down

& kills dead 

even the home scent
of your plug-ins

from televisius at flickr.com

PICASA MADRIGALS, DAY & DO

THAT LAUGH

come get me
says the day
in latin

i take a deep breath 
i nod ok yes ok 

but 
glance 
behind 
me

like you do you know

&
realise
its 
not 
talking to me

& then i hear that laugh

from cafepress.com

AS DAY NOW

MORNING PEARL

the day goes
where the day goes

where all the days 
have always gone

i know i cannot 
hold it down
hold it up
hold it still

for a pinch of salty understanding 

but
my
insomnia
tries
anyway

a small watcher in the big shadow

3D grit
in
the quantum hologram  

waiting on the
morning pearl

from futurism.com

SLOW LAP OF PLENTY

in the clock dust
of
dawns hinterland
the
hours hiccup 
and 
the 
minutes twerk

my recliner is a monks throne
and
i wonder about language
till 
the
words
they     d      s        e
            i       l  v   
               s   o 

i wonder about fashions autism
and vow to wear only ever black
( again )

such drama

lounging here
on pause
wrong inside

in the slow lap of plenty

from warosu.org

VERSES OF THE DAY

well
if
the
verses
of
the
day

they vary on a theme

just enough
to cheat stagnation

then
its
the
terrible
chorus
that
gets us

gets us bleeding 
before we are wounded

~

its a hook
and 
pressure drone
of
eat
shit
and
fall down

riding out
flat daylights
gimp fondling
in
heroic toleration

paying bills
and
dreaming 
of batman
of jesus

and measuring
the difference
between the two
in
sleeping pills
and
double cream

bucket toilet from wikipedia.org

THE DAYS WATCHING

the day 
all the days
i dont know what to do with them
theyre like tambourines 
in the snow

i got my colour tv 
and my dylan lps
i grind up fresh coffee beans
breathing new stainless 
electric vapour
up at the same ceiling whirls
where my grandfather
blew his yellow pipe smoke

the days well theyre like
one of those portraits 
in a gallery
or on a wood paneled wall 
in a horror films 
creaking mansion
where the painted eyes 
seem to follow you
which ever chair arm
you perch on dubious
and sipping at a drink

the days well theyre like 
i been flagged up
and all the teachers
and all the policeman know
and now theyre ready
to bear down
and bite at my ear
angry with agendas
angry with the writing
and the unmowed lawn

from wikipedia.org

FIND ME A MANTRA 1/3

what to write
when you want to write
but
all
your
notes
are 
like 
from 
a lunatics 
therapy diary

heavy on 
toilet 
observations
and the 
deliberate 
slide of the sun

~

i
need
a
mantra
that
steams
like
harmonies 
from out the compost

that
inspires
like
the daisies
losing
themselves
in
the
school
yards
melting
tarmac

still blinding white
and egg yolk yellow

under a simple
childish
sun

from recycleforlewisham.com

WROTE TO MY MP

wrote a letter to my mp

for my sanity

out of desperation

simple questions
important to me

i got a reply
and i read it down on the front door mat

i read it twice

he said
he 'welcomes' this
he 'believes' that

it was bland and automated

he didnt engage 

it was a blank wall
and
he really didnt say anything at all

i tore it quickly into strips
and
binned
it

so it couldnt ruin my day

from the echo

my mps voting record below - 

https://www.theyworkforyou.com/mp/24749/stephen_metcalfe/south_basildon_and_east_thurrock/votes

SOME UNVELVET MORNING

      & some days

   

    i will wake up

     or  segue really 

  from  naked high street dreams

   into an unvelvet morning

    where  i find time & myself

     in

    a kind of prism

         where

   the air is abrasive

       with 

        the 

 long summer shadows of english gin

      &  vicarious with

    war & news  & gritty fatigue

  &  going for coffee

   i have to go for coffee carefully

          because 

 i can see that the night

    has 

     left

   the  nowhere hatch

      wide

     open

       again

   

  &  the  day &  the house  
       are already

     falling down
        &  thru   -  
   s t r e t c h e d 
         like  
         a star trek 
       anomaly 

from forsmallhands.com

RESIDUE

dreams lay an edge
on
us
waking

  a 
  phantom 
  who
  fades
in the face of day things 

but
is
still
there
for
breakfast

ghosts before breakfast

from

www.designcatwalk.com