TIMES BACK THEN

there on the cricket crease 

where we pooled our pennies

for the bottleshop & chippy
inside a long summer afternoon

& the warm dusk elation

& the nights secrets ours

smoking on the hill bench

smoking on the hill bench

the bell for last orders 

far & off & away

BLUE LIGHT WEEKEND (A MULTIPLE CHOICE POP)

my 

memories

are vignetted 

with encroaching brown

like 

a; park bench dusk

b; cataract smears

c; a dirty protest

or

d; the smoke damaged

   field trip

   polaroids

   we found in the geography room

   after all the school arson

   that blue light weekend

JUST SO MUCH PAPER

 

my 

cardboard folder of poems

was 

suddenly just so much paper

& i took my hand 

to the train station home

in the tunnel vision

of october dusk

the 

city laughing

in 

alfresco clots

DUSK GONE CINNAMON

grief

the gravedigger said
under a dusk gone cinnamon

with sudanese sand

is the alarm bell
of homeless love

we loose it

dont we ?

when the meats gone

INDIFFERENCE TO SPLENDID BIRTH

the new dawn fades into day

& the day is unremarkable


it acts like it was never born 

in such horizon fire

~

& the pie flat noons indifferent too

to the coming booty
of
the magic dusk prism

that exploration of purple & orange

with bathroom bin clouds

FIRE PITS CRACKED TUMBLE

when afternoon touches evening

four fox cubs play rough & fleet

on our lawn & chairs

& still as a post behind the fir trunk

one parent watches

blended in shadow & brown 

& as the dusk crowds the skys vignette 

she returns to bury 

the food our cat rejected

in
our
fire
pits
cracked tumble

& in the wild wild corner 

kept abandoned

in hope

for bees

CAT POP 112

      was

   raised by foxes

   in the foraging dawn  

  

  now he throws bipolar jags 

     on 

      the 

       dusk window sill

        

          &

    disco naps at noon

 blocking wardrobe access

~

  he hams it up on the rug

    prayer paws

        &

     big eyes

     like he read up on wikihow

   we let him off -

      he was holy chosen

         with a black cat nod

  

SOUND FILE VOL 6

 

shower gel smell

& bbq smoke

summer / people are coming

the pavement holds on

to the days infra red

& neighbours 

  overlong 

  goodbye 

  shouting

  taints 

  my

  pre-dusk reverie 

~

smell of hot metal

oven been on for hours

that was sunday at nans

laughter & a chair short

clock chimes church bell tune

on the mantlepiece tile

for one hundred years

DELIRIUM TAPAS VOL3

i called hello to you all
on the back path jailway

in new dawns rude abundance
&
in tired dusks delirium parade

i wonder
are you dead now ?

no longer cherished
in the phone box glow


~


love drops cargo
from
tumultuous heights

&
we fell
fell out
out the dreaming trees
& jogged amok

nature wonder
attenborough stoked
inside the moving glass

dereliction rioting out the window

TWO DUSK CHORDS

been zoned off
in
a 
medicine box pharma cage

my ivory tachycardia 
learnt two dusk chords

i am
moodily
pleased

day release concerts
soundcheck at dawn

doors tba

from remodelista.com

OILLESS - TUESDAY POPS

1.

i woke up

& most of it all
was a dream

&
i
cancelled
all
my
plans

that werent bars

deep in 
dusks hug



2. 


like
an
unbaked
potato

sitting on a chair

one lego
two lego

got no hair



3. 


thru
the
keyholes

theres sparse
electric sparks

keyhole glimpses
all
i
got  

big picture
too vast

survival puts blinkers on
&
pulls shut the shutters




4.

if
only
we
were
only monkeys

with our genius grip
ethically tempered

oilless
with eyes that see

we
would
know
the dolphins by now

& 
all
the 
whale kings

from wwf.panda.org

OWL ( HOWL - ECOLOGY REMIX )

from king-animal.blogspot.com

i saw the best pines of deforestation
destroyed by madness
carved heretical splintered
logging illegal on a low-loader at dusk
looking for a payday fix

wooden flower hipsters
burning at the 
ancient financial connection
stalk starry eyed with a go-pro
sabotaging machinery at night

from greenpeace.org

ADAPTABILITY

A DUBSTAR IN THE ROCKPOOL

in
the
daylight corners anarchist court jesters
dance like dads in the laws blue hand

and 
im 
wedged in its nico-drone wheeze and grab
my plastic zen a gluten-free tai chi

and the normal fall of dusk
and the ordinary break of dawn
should be 
twice daily
heavyweight 
title bouts
when theyre just ying yang yawns

its
all
an
unstoppable
moan
and
march

isnt it ?

hurry up and wait
computer says no

you know ?

a rolling 
repetition
                   o  
that Music  e x  l   d   s
                p      e

from covermyfb.com

MOANOLOGY 1

yes we got TONNES of free porn now.
on the pcs and phones.
portable porn.  

WHY do we need that ?  

and i seen it all.  
seen all the porn.  
all of it.  
but without really looking.  

i never inhaled the porn.

~

and more TV than we can watch.  
black boxes know our favourite shows.
like a realworld friend would. 

tv -
it really exploded didnt it ?  

KABOOM !  

all the shows a sensation.
another thing you HAVE to see.  
only it isnt.
theyre not.
and you dont.  

~

contrived voyeuristic dramas wearing a mirrored reality hat.  
like walking out at dusk.
looking in all the front windows before the curtains are pulled.  

yeah right - 
in David Lynch land.

~

some shows tho have balls.  
analgesic balls of newmyth and apocryphal truth.  
shows i'd like to live in.  
such sweet safe worlds.  
insulated from danger.  
lightning wands.  
cancelled shows that i'd save that last episode unwatched. 

just so there would be one more.

~

and where do we go to breath like the animals do ?  
the gym ?
our breath is a vehicle for the relentless moanology.  
we all got Firsts in that one.

maybe we all need dogs to walk US.

come mute animals - 
reteach us instinct on the raw soil ground.

from www.tasteofcinema.com

BUSHES AND THREE FRIENDS

the bushes

they
dont
try
to sell me 
anything at all

~

the rubbish trucks
on friday morning
sing a dinosaur song
of
man
and
machine

~

the tide mark
on
the bath tub
is
some concrete proof
some surprise relief
that
i
am
made 
of 
something

~

ordinary madness
comes
up
with
the
sun
but wont leave at dusk

no mind what assassinated sewage
passes
for
tv
and
downtime

from pnglmg.com

STRANGE DUCKLINGS ( A PROCESS TRIPUPLET )

1.  I SAW -

i see 
the strange ducklings
from my stool
at
the
cafe
counter

they follow invisible trails
in the silent 10 AM

its a world of routine
mugs of tea all round

tin of broken biscuits
from the market stall

some blinkered browsing
in the library thrillers

and
god knows what
in
their
carrier
bags

walking in a line
like baby ducks
in 
  order 
    of 
      descending 
        social 
          ability

or so it looks to me

and
always home for the soaps


2. I THOUGHT -

thinking

h
m
m
m

with coffee / concentrating

a
a
a
h
!

and 

euuuurgh !  then . . .


3. I WROTE -

strange ducklings 
shuffle 
their 
baggage souls
in 
the 
pound shop crevices
of
the
pale jobless spaces

zipped up in anoraks 

bobbled trousers
pulled
too
high

out 
in 
the 
weekday daytime light
theyre cautious animals

all gone to ground
by
dusk

from quotesgram

FESTIVAL POP

SHE COMES HOME

i
looked the dusk
dead
in
its
flat leaves and golden eye
and
i
announced to its nostalgia tones
that
if
she
didnt
come 
home
id be drinking again

if she didnt come home
id
be
out in the fields with a bottle
announcing
to
the
dusk
and its hints of doom
that
creep
in
round the sides of our eyes
that
she didnt come home
and
that
im drinking again

  but
  she
  does
  come
  home
with that rail station smile
and that rail station skip
that clean musk
and 
those soft paws
and
so
i put the kettle on for brews
and
eat 
my greens
  happy
    relieved 
      and
      alive

THE COLD BITCH OF BETWEEN TIMES

  park -
the inbetween time of late PM
  i
see
its tall grass
and
torn cricket crease
have
forgotten me / forgotten my memories

  park 
  is
indifferent in winter dusk
empty / insolent with space

  i
was
always
a
friend 
in the dog-walking kite-flying days
and
in the beer-popping ludicrous midnights

and
the
port 
lights the river mist
into
a future glow
like
a
sci-fi disaster
low
over
the
the broken fingers of trees

  i
stick
my
gum
on
a
traffic
post
to prove that i am here

from phys.org