PRESSURE ROSE

i have become age

& my head feels beetlejuice small

& i used to be a child

but i ate him

when the pressure rose

on a hair gel

bus stop

morning

CATCHING A WEAK THERMAL

i sat down with my notes
to write about modern england
& see if its england still

i was going to start with the trains
& the fat metaphor potential there

but i slid into reminiscing
about hair gel & untethered pop

~

this is how i fail as a poet -

i am so firehosed by the yesterdays 

i will catch a weak thermal to anywhere

& this is how i succeed as a poet -

by answering the trades entrance bell

& catching weak thermals to anywhere

INXS KICK PLAYING

 

& from out there
i hear a train

station skipping

in its backfence furrow

down where hatchbacks

wreck themselves now

in the name of weekend joy 

its hiss-whine-hoot

is a throwback comfort

to when stations had staff

& 

i would go southend

in the hair gel days

with the misfit crew

inxs kick playing

in my bbc radio head

RITICULATED NOSTALGIA

DAWN FLASHBACKS

dawn
was hot boiled eggs
was an ersatz citrus shower*

dawn
was all the flashbacks
the above entail

& they would crowd me
like inside a kaleidoscope
on my way to work
hangover in my backpack
wheels in the wet
memories on tap

on tap ? dam burst !

~

*SHOWER PRODUCT FLASHBACK

the school organised
work experience
bus journey
to
the
dead dead office**
of drawing boards
& resentment
& nose hair
& silence the radio could not cut
& that ammonia copier
in the windowless room
downstairs away from them

(& lunch in the murky mall
 bench outside Our Price
 everyone buying
 Superdrug hair gels

 & Pet Shop Boys lps
 & shrieking at fashion)

~

**DEAD OFFICE FLASHBACK

sat on the carpet
after spam & beans

& kids lunchtime TV
shows Playschool

going thru the round window

or thru the square window

to
show
me
the factories & the working farms
&
the
grey grey grey
of it all
when i was four

PART ONE OF A FUNERAL TRILOGY

YOUNG ?!

i
was

' young '

( what a LOADED word
  i almost cannot use it )

i
was
unformed

functioning mush
on 
the
fila
farah
ivan lendle
xr3i cabriolet streets

~

and i couldnt 
tell you now 
what i wore then 

for
the
funeral
this pome is about

probably some 
poorly applied 
hair gel
from 
a screw top jar
from
superdrug in eastgate

and
an
air
of
the jagged inbetween




HERE BE DRAGONS

i was full
with
empty things

i felt uncharted

no
i felt unchartable

here be dragons
like on an old map

and if there were dragons
well they were mute
wings clipped

i was 
beyond and underneath

i was
inside the outside
outside the inside

of
my
12 yr old
1985




A FRENCHMAN PHILOSOPHER

like
a
frenchman
philosopher
i knew
nothing
was
nothing
was
nothing
but
ennui black
and
cigarettes
in the 
bath tub

ash volcanic
on the holiday surf
and
blood
in
the
beach hut home

bill cosby sweater from pinterest