WHAT IT WAS I DID

i wonder
what it was
i ( a slow dive / a pensive peacock ) 

did to time
to make time ( a real geek & goofball ) 

do whats its done to me

~

well thats peeled ego & old grapes

washing machine fluff 

too keen again

on the trouser weave

&

a sand grains fury with the rock face

ENAMEL CAMPING MUG

it was muggy 

& smelt of gutter nettles
the air heavy 

with empty threats 

of a storm that wouldnt come
like fists in your face 

after last orders
the accompanying feet 

not able to ground a hook
& i am reminded 

of all the festivals long ago
the slippery bacon 

in processed rolls
after a morning zoot 

as a mild primer
& night-chilled white pinot 

in an enamel camping mug
infinite techno 

in the head shop haze
& a rock tune-up 

somewhere over a dusty low rise
but this was 

homebase carpark
streatery food truck 

firing up for lunch

CEMETERY DRINKING 2

there is a special peace

it is a crowded emptiness

they are filed under rock

~

& no disrespect was meant
to the soil town ghosts 

( i like how theyre done with waiting )

but a bottle 

& a bench in there
was night out enough for me

& wet work done

dead soldiers waited 

in the flower bin

for the dawn & dew

SHIFT RUN STOP

the morning is still

like a single-use heirloom

like an alligator

like a rock

like its waiting 

for me to press

shift+run/stop

like we used to

before phones

ALIVE LIKE A GUN IS ALIVE

to be
an electric guitar
raw
from the last show
keen

for the next

alive like a gun is alive

wating

backstage
in the calm

before the rock

almost not even needing any hands

TIMELESS DOWNER GROUND

&
the
repeating repeating repeating
pop & rock songs in my headpan
they recede recede & leave

their earworm hooks
taken on the bayou swell
of the luna tugged tide

its
the 

gothic country duets 

soft frisson elevation
that gently hold their 

timeless downer ground

MORE OR LESS

 

meat ritual
on the rolling rock

under
a
moon
eye

for three score & ten

more or less

photo by Adi Ulici on Unsplash

FILING REPORTS - SOME KIND OF CV

EXPERIENCE

recipe for a competent report -

  writing
  is 

sculpture-like

but must mind-find & make 

    Own Rock

from the quarry 

of the hesitant-calling past

  &

  tvs new flat tube

  

HOBBIES


  one day 

  i want to wash my face
  in
  a
  parisian history sink

& file a report

WHERE DO YOU 

SEE YOURSELF

IN FIVE YEARS

toy town

interzone 

early learning centre

bug powder

weird interaction

judgement free

&

a nearly hint of an almost frown

on my open-book abandoned face

still filing reports

with pizza on standing-order

picture window of a tree

confusion a given

with hugs on hand

Photo by Thibault Penin on Unsplash

MUSIC POP

& the jazz rock fusionators
touching up the funk

& the mentholated hiphop metalers
pillaging the cinema

hose me down
at half time

& fill me up again

from kleptones.bandcamp.com

MONDAY POPS, LOCKDOWN DIAGRAMS

we
wander
half-fucked now

in a fatalistic hue

&
theres
a
gulf
waiting
nightly
to
cross
quietly 

in the grayest shade 
of boat there is

~

the hard seats
in
the
soft gallerys
penny
peon
arcade

rock full & waiting

~

the highstreet
is panic blown 
& sunday'd

dropped shutters
rattle impatient 

in the dry wind
of
englands
still
hatchback garden

from walthomstowforest.gov.uk

GOTTA LAUGH

you gotta laugh

you gotta try to laugh
when
you
feel
the awful fingers
of
mad bad truth

climbing their bitten nails
inside your exhaust port

not rock
not paper
not scissors

beats a real laugh

~

look at our heinous fuckpile 

as if from space
as if from history

and
you
will
find
which teachers
only repeat the sea

and which
surf the moons tide 
as home

jj moon

BREAKING MAN

  on a bus with a number
 in a town with a name
    on a street called something like
  sycamore avenue
   chestnut close
      or
  butchers bridge

    sits a man with an age 
 shaking with breakdown
       hunched on the high seats 
      up near the back

 and a girl who is a daughter 
     holds his arm with a kind of pride
  smiles a youth-confident smile
      maybe 
    just pleased 
       hes out

  in clothes called polyester-chic 
i slouch behind them 
     my knees are shiny
  going to a place called work
     listening to rock from the past
 on a tapeplayer with auto reverse 
   and headphones with megabass

    its a year with a number 
   that starts 19

 there is booze in my morning sweat
    there is fag ash in my suede coat
  i wear black nike airs called pegasus
   
  one punctured hisses like a snake 
  
    and i wonder
   that 
    we
   dont
 all shake like that

  in fear and panic and impotence
   in a gut-balls reaction called instinct

   at the world
  that has become

from andysbusblog.blogspot.co.uk

MO' WORLD POPS

DYSTOPIA

dystopia oh dystopia

spank
me
in
the
town
square

for my disbelief
and
download
deficit


SOME OUTSIDE

my
morning
mercy
mission
in
the
murky mist

is a few steps
for
that fresh air 
on
real soil thats our home
in
space



ARSE ABOUT TIT

they paved our garden

cut it with
malls and motorways

now they plan
to
plant  nuture  grow

new gardens

on
dead
space
rocks



ARSE ABOUT TIT AGAIN

white coats in money labs
race
to
create
a
new 
people

more machines 

without fucking

 ( why ?  when we are legion
   and
   paddleless
   in
   shit creek )

from decadesofhorror.com