BAD NEWS ANTIDOTE, SMALL TOWN FLUFF #2

written as antidote 

to the doom faff & paff

coming up the tv pipes 

i present bland events
i call Small Town Fluff

~

the new speed bumps

have a 20 mph speed limit now

its painted in white 

on the road in front of them

it seems maybe they could have used 

the same amount of asphalt 

to plug up the craters there

so its not like driving on the moon

a new hair stylists up the road

has six months in my book

& everyone is sure its another front

run by a gangsters duck lipped wife

the postman is due today

with my 'essential medicine'

i always get a kick out of that

if only he knew !

next doors car been gone a few days

but the window is open

which always indicates he is in

& we lost interest when the car returns

& thump thump thump thump

goes the pile driver at the port

for another berth & more containers

thump thump thump thump 

also i wonder

how the hedgehogs are doing

note to self

must put out the trail cam 

FRAGPOP No1.2

the pressure wave

the walking meat

lay on thick 

is only a cock

in your ear

~

the postman cometh

with glossy photographs

of cooked food

& 

all the numbers

for the approximation

of the above

& he feeds my slot with them

& the hospital letters too

SCENE

weep into
your cold
dishwater

theres rain up the kitchen window

so the postman
wont see

~

& all the difficult forms

& the liars on the phone

lay their traps of madness

sunshine & love

cant see

HEAVEN IN A MORNING NUTSHELL

a slow piano song
with a hook just for you
comes from the postmans radio

& the sun comes out
you didnt expect that
mind on something else

& it casts ghost lines
out the vanishing points
of the bushes gentle spaces

& they flicker
like a movie laser
in the atmospheres dust & vapour

you only sat 

on a simple chair

by an open streetside window

& you didnt expect this

not this heaven 

here in a morning nutshell

STUFF I HEAR NO 2

 

a handbrake yank & screech

& the postmans out & laughing

his radio not on today

the vans sliding door slides open

with a sound hard to describe - 

a latch crunch-clack 

& truncated roller rail wail ? 

anyway -

he ho-hums his round away
pausing for jabber natter

yeah mate

yeah mate

yeah

PLASTIC ZEN & SCHRODINGERS PACKAGE

postman delivers a package
a package is such joy

it could be ANYTHING 
ANYTHING in the world

~

    open it . . .

 
& mystery is exiled 

with the excessive packaging
& the joy recedes 
in a brown paper tide

my residue smiles
in amusing self-knowledge

&

nebulous plastic zen

from retailgazette.co.uk

MAINLY GEOPOLITICAL BUT LOOKING FOR MAGIC

the disadjuster

uber-unmensched

whos hands are these . . . 

world
gone
2d

like a waldo / wally foldout

a quiet crisis
matrix-like
in
its
glitching

~

i take off my glasses

& there it all is

its impressionistic
with drunken clarity
& undeniably real

longshadow me longcasts
across the lawn & cat

& the shrill grunt
of a 
handbrake streetside
wedged 
itself
inside
a
crack in time

postman i thought
or
the stepsons 
who visit
across the road

~

& 
i 
travelled around the world 100 times
in
that
single smudge / one planck unit
of
afternoon sun

mainly geopolitical
but
looking for magic

from bl.uk/events

AN INDOOR SAGA

DIRTY STOPOUT 1

it

was

in

a

blur

of 

exhaustion worry and hasty food

that

i

slid

helpless wilful and unaided

into

the

twilight of exclusion

DIRTY STOPOUT 2

when the phone rang

it was a warning siren

cos

the

whole world wanted in

down the curly wire

i would break out

in a cold sweat

on my bed island

unable to decide anything

at

all

DIRTY STOPOUT 3

it

was

in

a

fools gamble

to

keep time available and mine

that i shut the door fast

after

work

and

mechanically inebriated

my

residue

way

over

the

plimsoll line

DIRTY STOPOUT 4

sunday was a buffer

a condemned ritual

of

baths

and

nothing

and

wine

the emptiest of fields

that my mistakes needed

to

breath

DIRTY STOPOUT 5

and today

well today

i wait for the postman

like

a

child

at

xmas

with only natures hangover

and

the gasman

is coming later

between noon and five

the gasman

is

coming

to

visit

me 

from thenorthernecho.co.uk

MORNING WONDERING

  the 
postman is late

  hes out there
  in
  the
struggling hatchback streets
  
          where
  clots of kids
  eyes down on glass palms
  walk to school in black
    to 
    unlearn wonder

  i write small 
    blab-pops
    of
eurgh & unmurder
    of
whatever & meh

then run a bath

wondering how many of YOU
  regularly
    piss
      in
        yours

and of Time / the rolling-over Sun
and
how
we
locked
it
into a machine we wear
  and
  live our lives
  on 
  its 
  numb47s 

 

ONLINE SHOPPING (EXPLODED HAIKUS)

1. AMAZON


double-click glass world

of 
   cheap plastic rain 
   1p books

   hello
   mr
   postman

2. XMAS


unsure gifts are good ?

   so 
   something else 
   to be sure

   1000
grateful smiles