SICK HEART LIMPS

they tell their microphones
that violence 

has no place
in politics

when

it has 

exactly 

the place

they bred for it

~

& the veil

these days

needs no lifting

its full of machine gun holes

& anyone can look & see

the sick heart limping inside

SINCERELY NO REGARDS

to; politics

cc; disaster, capitalism, polycrisis

re; throwing the poor & sick again

    to the payday loanshark wolves 
     

to whom it may concern, 

we 'uneconomic units'

are sorry
you cant
see any worth
in our struggling lives

just know 

we too

can see 

even less

in yours

sincerely no regards whatsofuckingever 

A PERFECT PENCIL

let them have their prams
their toys / their politics

let them cosplay leader
in the swollen twilight

their fingers on the banks
& the button for the bombs

ive given up on the bastards
more times . . . i lost count

i only need
a perfect pencil

& enough quiet
to write a true sentence down

in this hard won bubble
of love & lunch & lexapro

baby birds learning at the feeder
cats making loaves on the lawn

MYTHICAL CHESTNUT

living in the moment

that mythical chestnut

is for kids & animals

got no money

got no politics

  

wonderfully ignorant 

of their skin in the game

SOFT WEIGHT DELIGHTFUL

hes asleep
on my hand
again

i feel his purr throb
i feel his heart bump
on
his
warmest underside

my hand 
is his
pillow & comfort

his presence
is
a
soft weight delightful

& his claws grip
my fingertips
in dreams

like government fuckery
& the end-times bells
are
a
performance art overflow

just mimes gone mad

that
cant
touch
our
soft station lay in

from the cat cat archives

I SAY/COMA POPS

1.

theres lots 
of people 
out there
indignant and 
newly horrified
cos of 
the politics
these days

they stamp
their feet
they use
new words 
they learned
last week

i say
welcome to
the game

where have
you been ?


2.

lots of 
people saying
imagine some 
poor person
waking from 
a coma
and seeing
all THIS 
on the news

i say
i was
in no coma

dont undermine
my shock



3.

talking 
of shock

well im 
in it

i never
took my
eye off
the ball

and i 
float about
in ptsd
these days 

saying we 
survived worse . . .

and still 
not keen
to breed



4.

and whats
comas got
to do
with it ?

its just 
shorthand 
to imply
your/our 
bameless
surprise

i say
wake up
and smell 
the 
black money
the
arms trade
and 
the
superconducter complicity 
charging on 
your nightstand

from moneyinternational.com

FIND MEADOW

where is a great empty space 
a space
where politics is irrelevant 

antarctica ? 

with herzogs aztec king
and lovecrafts 6 foot penguins 

anyway
my mind conveniently left me 

the birds shat onion grass under the apple tree
and that bee big as a golfball that got inside 
well i got him out again

and
i
wrote something 
something good enough
something worthy enough
to read aloud
in a soft english meadow naked all the way to space 
coloured with nodding buttercups and patchwork dairy cows

i called it wire in the glass
i called it the veal and the chicken
i called it the moon men from mars

i put a note in my diary-
find meadow it says

then i count the bruise shades
in the killed grey sky
waiting for the streetlights to come on

theyre new lights theyre white now
and out the front round the sunflower fence
it looks like theres always an oncoming car

from nationalparks.gov.uk

LONDON MEMORIES (AN APRON OF FREEMASONS)

pm isnt it
leicester square 

a raggedy glamorous maybe rentboy
links my arm talking about company
his eyes alight with a morning hit

i rescue my arm dont i
telling myself
he thinks i am a rock star

its the sunglasses isnt it
people always look
at sunglasses without the sun

leicester square
movie remake why hollywood why
still we are curious

red guide ropes
i am trapped 
in red guide ropes 
drunk 
laughing 
a fool arent i

i am only looking for dark
and a story to escape into
inside we could be anywhere

movie is full of mojitos
bad dialogue  
flash cars
and after i am needing another drink bad
my mind dried
like a forgotten potted plant 

so then wooden pubs isnt it 
old as the river
ornate ceilings like art
and i am timeless
and i am strong
and i am accelerated
and i am refueled 
and i speak of my love of wooden pubs 

( wood
  its good
  it feels
  like it should )

so shoot pool isnt it
smoke hangs like mountain cloud 
no air in here
no air moving anyway
everything is on the corner of stagnation
sweat in circles under my arms
short sleeve bad check crinkle shirt
so i hold scotch ice to my forehead dont i

so then we drink our way east
pictures on paper money
as made up as anything

see bob fossil order a beer
no no no not him
who is it who is that
its lucien sanchez 
and hes got an ale

see freemasons leave their hq
silent fat suited secret phalanx
leak out their huge stone monster 
one city block long 
they come in this bar dont they
single file like a field trip
and they go up the backstairs
no eyes on anyone

then we are over the road arent we
laughing at their ornate aprons
arcane books
solid mystery
in their exclusive freemason shop window

and all the pubs 
are all weirdly empty
just us isnt it
and disinterested barmen
nuts for dinner  
and all the streets 
are all weirdly empty
just street cleaning carts
driven buzzing electric
by hi-vis immigrants
city blending and city mundane 
its some side passage
secret london isnt it
painted windows and wedged open doors
record shops that never open

i leave my fingerprints 
on all the brass poles
i leave my dna 
in all the cold back room pissers

and i wonder if we have found heaven

or at least a place outside politics

a drinking bubble isnt it
long may it last
amen

from freemasonrytoday.com

SHAPE WOOD SON

- pa i dont need to go to big school do i ?

- why
  not
  son ?

- cos you said

- what
  did
  i
  say
  son ?

- thats its just consumerist conditioning
  and dumbed down revisionism
  and it kills childrens beautiful spirits
  
- was
  i
  drinking
  son ?

- yes pa
  and you said its lethally reductive . . .

- well
  you
  still
  have
  to
  go . . .

- so i can become a docile sheepman
  led by my innocent nose
  to the trough of obsolescent electronics
  and populist malleable politics ?

- yes . . .
  i'm
  sorry
  son

- will i learn about parental hypocrisy pa ?

- if
  you
  do
  sociology
  son

- but i cant do that till sixth form pa

- then
  learn
  to
  work
  with
  your
  hands
  son

- ok pa

- shape
  wood
  son

  and
  let
  the
  rest
  be

  like
  its
  all
  just
  bad
  weather

- ok pa

- thats
  the
  best
  i
  got
  son

  i'm
  sorry

- thats ok pa
  you dont run the world
  shall i get you a beer pa ?

from journal.neilgaiman.com