FRET-JAG DUH

fret-jagging about endtimes

& everything to forever lose

i purposefully patronise waterstones

between a glut of used electronics

& the muted hues of west ham merch

empty of customers

 duh

i inhale the paper air

the unbent luxury gloss of spines

well this might not be 

a bad place 

to hole up

when the sewage 

hits the turbine

& all the hills shed their trees

CONSISTENTLY PUNCTUAL FESTIVAL MEMORIES

wood smoke / hills of bass

the memories remember themselves

an automatic excavation 

of a layer cake of times

~

heroic turds / a drawstring baggie

& none of it fades

just relentlessly consistently punctual

& pungent

& lurid

& with a colourscape of rot

BLESSING ON THE LEDGE

its all kill kill kill

out there 

on the earths red meadows 

& behind the meat of hills

but

remember
all the times
we didnt nuke ourselves ?

slim comfort 

in marigolds

punk blessings 

on the ledge

MOSTLY BULLDOZED NOW

& the hills
i would have died on
are
mostly bulldozed now

&
bent in the light bulb light

my articulated arguments
               gone uv brittle

are shattered into sea spray

               invisible

in

the
bognor regis mist

& 

any hills left standing
i struggle to hike at all

GOLD FORD CORTINA - A CHILDHOOD HOLIDAY POP

we stole ourselves

like fugitives

into a gold ford cortina

early start still dark

roof rack all roped up

on top a gold ford cortina

buckets & spades

waiting on the innocent trade

of sand & seashells

in the suitcase boot

 

~

dawn bloom & diesel fume 

over 

the 

service stations carpark stretch 

& 

devons hills 

devons wonderful hills

roll by 

outside 

a gold ford cortina

WITH A SIMPLER MIND

to be once again
a kid on a bike

moving always moving

or always ready to

with traffic to dodge

&

alley corners to risk

looking for something

looking for anything

from the wooded hills

to

the flat estuary marsh

~

motion made a trouble-mind simple

thru kinesis or thru taxis

i dont which -

i had sweets down my sock

for eating under hedges

waiting out the rain

photo - Outdoors Remembered from the Dagenham Archive 

NOT ENOUGH DAY IN THE HOURS

 

   

  migraine 

like possession

brain a madmans mnemonic salad 

      raining now

   on the greenland cap

      & even in its last hours

       precious yesterday

    is near sacred for me

~

    stretched out

   in rainbow halos

angry lion handpainted

  on copper-green brick divider

not enough day in the hours

      for this shit

  tv hills are six weeks old

 seeds & trees 

    mysterious to me

 

LANDFILL HILL (AFTER LISTENING TO BOB FORREST)

most 

everythings 

in landfill hill *

apart from love & fear

these jeans 

this hat

1000 unceremonied burials

we went mad with stuff

~

impossible / unlikely / crazy

as it feels / is / sounds

one day i may be 

blown dust & smoke drift 

loose in the bird cloud sky

except for my love & my fear
theyre the hills

the mountain valleys

timeless maybe & almost music

tomorrows uncut songs

blunt mineral  

potential in the stone

~

i hope they keep you up

or you find others that do

on the streaming dial

i hope they save your life 

save your love & your fear 

i hope you give 

my vintage denim 

a good home

pockets mad with stuff

above landfill hill

* in spirit at least-

  dont look in the loft

from the guardian.co,uk

the matterhorn reflected in riffelsee, zermatt, swiss alps. frank fischbach