POOR SPROGS

what

were

the salt of the earth

are

now

salting the earth

their poor sprogs
must eat live & die on

PM ZONE OUT VIDDY

men like grandad
die in the blood on the beach
in olive drab nascent denim

~

its odd what tv

we watch to relax

he thought

a reconstructed war

his pm zone-out viddy

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

FRAG 7

you hear stories

of people who die

because they couldnt & wouldnt

cry out for any help



why cant we hit the rooftops

when its raining black inside ?

NERVOUS IN SAVAGE GARDENS

is anything so hard
after all we have done & done ?

all we got to do now
is live till we die

& i seen the world outside
& i seen the world on tv

& i am torn
torn into submission

no - indecision


~

i done that nervous chunder
in the savage garden bin

bile risen in the tower hill 

london wall tunnel spill

& 

the flip side -
twinkle eyed marching 

on a sparking mission 

shirt out & billowing
round the fountains & lions
of the city square stone

i hit an undrunk full stop
outside the museum there

my home grown third eye dried 

& good for blink glimpses only

~

& my age is like a weight now

a mansion house foot scraper

a hand-me-down iron - metal

its a comfort monkey on my back

&

i re-smelt it daily

into

a

morning medal

i award myself 

at lunch

from wikipedia.org

FUNERAL

funeral
next
door
this
PM

this
AM
widower 
tells 
me-

was only 2 months back
dead wife she asked me
husband where will we go
when we die ?

i nod
i listen
i make
sympathy
bleats

widower 
tells 
me-

now thats when i 
started looking 
at the crematoriums
round here

and
i 
THINK
but
dont
SAY

but widower
is that really what she meant ?

from humanist.org

A MONDAY MORNING IN THE WORLD

1. DIDN'T DIE AGAIN

everything 
is an 
ugly pile
to 
retarded morning eyes

we did not die 
in the nights 
short dark surrender

a day is reissued
from 
out the 
backlog queue



2. HICCUPS

left arm aloft
and
three pints of water
makes 
me
sick

water
comes up
still cold

i disgust me

hiccups gone



3. FILIGREE SARCOPHAGI

i sit with the toilet

lid up

not knowing what to do

so we reminisce

good times & bad times

waiting
for dawns
brief heaven
to
light
the
cobwebs into filigree

and the bath
into
sarcophagi 

from britishmuseum.org

ACCIDENTALLY ROYAL

if you dont die
as a kid
you become an adult

suddenly

by default

youre some kind of role model

even
if
youre accidentally royal
or
kill
foxes
at
the
weekend

from buzzfeed.com

SICK BRAIN GO-SLOW POPS

1.

  i wallow in a hot bath
  i dont remember running
and
a
coffee
sits
  long cooled and forgotten 
on
top
of
todays
  to-do list


2.

the 
day 
paints stains on my clothes

  coffee 
  ash 
  miscellaneous 

they
stick
the hours together 
 
  i
  miss some out


3.

if i must
i would die
on
a
sunny
day
  
  in some animal meadow 
  of trembling grass
  or 
  in forest hinterland 
  of broken sun and english magic

but
only
if
i
must 

 from fauna-flora.org

QUEEN MOTHER

oh 
man !

i remember saying
filled with relief
in march '02

i
thought
she
would
never 
die 

 from pinterest.com