HOSPITAL TEA BREAK POP #3

home made
bacon muffins

nuked midmorning
in the office microwave

the lemony steam
a damp paper towel

brown sauce surfing
on the melting gold

& nurses comment incredulous
hungry & jealous & smoking

superkings out the fire door

on a monday morning in may

PUTTING ON A SHOW

gimme
a key change
that saddens & elates
&
gimme soft drugs to dream on
like a drone pedal sustain
&
i will mind-paint
interpretive dance & weird pop
in
a
gallery of caged paintings
by the victorian sea

~

artisans scarves 

is the theme
& 

in the sand
theyll be gold on fire
in the footprints
you will follow

SEASONAL POPTART

heres autumn
& johnny goes up the lawn

like an aeroplane
with his arms out

over the rolled gold waves

natures beautiful litter
fragile
small
& crunch

SHORT TERM FORECAST OK FOR NOW

without glasses
i attempt 

to divine
our fortunes
in the blur
of the hallway

coatrack

i see 

a gentle disorder

of earth shades  

smudged

&

edged 

with 
vibrating

sunlight gold

SCARED ENOUGH PT3

they got us
scared enough

to flap plastic flags
in the destitution winds

at the yellow glare
of appropriation gold

under rain & grey
& a war plane display

for yet again

another king

YOU KNEW WHAT YOU WERE ABOUT

his beautiful diadem
was brass not gold

in his cousins eyes

his time-lock steel safe
was a biscuit tin

in his cousins eyes

& i tell you
never second guess
the play you threw
unfinished
into the fireplace

you knew what you were about

MOVING WATER, A PILL PACK POP

JAPANESE GOLD & GLUE

 

& if i am in bits

well reform me then

with japanese gold & glue

~

& tell me

what do i do

when its the rain

that

wants

me

to stop ?

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

SHOWER ROULETTE & MAINTAINING THE MEAT STREAK

clothes wash on in the washer

makes the old pipes conflicted

its shower roulette again -

waters hot then cold

           then gold

           then scald

           old fyodor 

          never had to 

        worry about that


~

my meat streak 

strongly suggests 

hibernation

& exhibits extreme confusion

& manifest limbic protest

at orders to the contrary

  

PERFECT RIPPLES & REAL TERROR

i make perfect ripples

never seen

in the cannonballs splash


~

real terror 

is in the 

naked sunlight

we are tricked by its gold

the shadows are old hat for horror

come on
admit it -

them old shadow horrors 

are old friends

photo - Refuel in Texture from the Dagenham Archive

NEIGHBOUR SAYS

' the streets aint paved wiv gold anymore
  & theyre jumping off boats in the channel
  to make the navy pick them up !

  how do they pay for that ?  eh ?
  lucky they got money . . .

  & i told this dr rashiid
  my arthritis is too bad 
  for me to drive to her clinic
  & i cant pay £18 for a taxi 
  why should i ? '

  he says getting out of his car
  box of fosters under his arm
  

  & painters arrive
  to paint another coat
  on his pristine garage castle 

from royalnavy.mod.uk

CHANCE, GOLD LEAF REDUX

and

theres

a

chance

isnt there

that i might write something

in a shadow of gold leaf

on a gutter hubcap

if i unfold from out of bed

a man shaped cutlery ape

in the supermarket zoo

and

theres

a

chance

isnt there

that someone who may not be born yet

may see it may read it one odd day

on a museum-piece server

under a leaking tin-can megacity dome

and they might halfway feel something

and they might catch a glimpse of something

and maybe then write something themselves

something better

without tricks on loan

in whatever bio-wired plastic AI dream

we

have

left

for

them

under the mercury clouds

from youtube.com

TWO HUMBLE POPLINGS

1. MAYBE I SHOULD DO A SPREADSHEET

i dont know
that
i
could
ever
be
arrogant
enough
to
assume
to
speak
truthfully
on
my
own
dim motivations

best to 
reverse engineer
my
actions

to see whats what

these days

pic from qualcomm.com

2. PREE-APOCAMALYPSE

everiebodie

shitts

gawld

if its commpost yoo need

and soon it wil bee

lawk aheed

and

plann

accawdinglie

pic from blackgold.pz

FACTOR X

he 
climbed
fast

from hooded scally malchick 
sunken fiesta outside the flatblock 
moloko plus in his mozg
to acting capo with remit over weekend bookies 

( cheltenam
  the national
  real horrorshow days )

and the lunchtime groody strip trade

( pound nuggets in pint glasses
  surprised accidental tourists 
  total pain in the rectal )

he had smarts enough to grok he was being tested
now a friday nochy supper-up 
with the big boss
under the luna in his home-county mesto

orange brick
roman pillars
gold taps
help in starched white
dorogoy chinese rugs

a heated pool with a small waterfall
underneath the entrance way stairs

he chumbled thru the fish soup starter 
dreaming of a kfc zinger
but gobcast over the gressingham duck

he said 
if it hadnt been for my ded droog timmy fingers
getting me away from the night football
getting me off the art & craft nights at the y
getting me off the yoofy club chess team
if it hadnt been for timmy fingers . . .

he stopped with gen-yoo-iyne tears in his glazzies

. . . timmy fingers he said
helped me pawn my trombone 
to pay for my first zip gun
if it hadnt been for my ded droog timmy fingers . . .

he said choking up on self blubber

. . . i could have ended up in a boy band 
or the leytonstone under 21s
loveted in a straight and narrow flat jeezny
with a very taxable income

and not here
crooked and wide 
a goblet of firegold
and a subaru outside

all my cutter-squids my own

from uk.complex.com

BOOKS

the paperbacks
in the queue

hold their breath

theyre meditating
before hands

time is spider leg lines
in their bent broken spines

and i dreamed
the trees outside
were
the
cheap 
gold
of a glam rock jumpsuit

~

the pages of a hardback
thrown
open
onto
the thick clover lawn

turn unsure in the wind

 h e s i t a t e

then
wave to the marching clouds
between the conversation of birds

~

in the sentry silence
of the patio pots 
theres rain spots
on ampersands now
and 
on
chapter ones cliff hanger ending

from killicomainlibrary.wordpress.com

OLD GUYS AND THE TRUTH LAWNS - POPTASMS

1.

  we are past 

    Truth 

the rags yell-

completely 
   forgetting 
  their job

and i am only trying 
to 
get 
my first coffee down

and
it
tastes
like
boiled stone



3.


out the window -

no shitehawks on my lawn

its 
all 
clean out there

  the
leaves laid out by an artist

no headlines
  for
broken
  eggs
   in 
   the 
 young starling trees


3.

and the old guys
from the old times
who fought the old wars
still
go
up the shop  
             s l o w l y

for
their
8 am
rags

every single bad news day


4.

and
our
forever
queen 

wrinkled gin puppet
 empire fresh
  on her 
 golden potty
calls for lavendar

picking
a
castle
for
the
weekend

from www.onceuponatimeabc.wikia

BARKING IN THE STREET

1. ISMUTH

in 
the 
empty distance of sky

planes punch 
angel shapes
thru the cloud

ripped ragged 
crucifix shapes

that
dissolve into ismuths 

when
i
blink


2. TRAFFIC COP

thought-pops appear
with chrome and fins

in
the dust and tumble weeds
    traffic and white-noise

    of
  my
spaghetti junction mind

i kiss them
i keep them 
pull them over
on the hard shoulder

   sighing
   
   thanking feck
   
   that
   i 
   made 
   something today

3. DIVERSIFY !

it is not all gold out there

there is third-place bronze -

restored campers
or 
alien beasts
with 
coca-cola lines

but 
is it not all gold 

all the hatchbacks
are 
generic -
tax-pods repeating approved lines

and
i want ALL gold
       ALL the time on
       ALL the streets

       dazzle me blind
       with
       an
       imagination riot

       to help me dream

from www.dailymail.co.uk

BEHIND GODS BALLS

dawn's sun is Gods Yellow Anus
he
shows
like
a
cat
would

and
tho
now

all the Tired Torn Trees
glow like Delicate Naked Gold
and
all the Crushed Tins and Ripped Foil
shine like Left Treasure
we
need
not
hunt
for
anymore

when

he tugs back up his Dusk Sky Strides 
and 
extinguishes his Rectal Laser
the
trees
once more appear Harsh Woven Nightmares
and
the Free Glittering Treasure
just
a
trail
of
tramps
or
drunks

lifesucksandthenyoudie blogspot 

MINI SUMMATION POP

buckowski bought german

gold comes from space

rulers are blind and corrupt

thats 
it