CLUNKY ANALOGY SHOES

HARBINGES

the elephant cry
of the bin trucks
in a dim grey dawn

harbinges

the existential wordless wail
of
a
breathless 

coughing
uncomprehending 

child

going back to school

in new stiff shoes

LEE MARVINS SHOES

the director
asked the widow
if she 

wanted 

something
of the actors
from any

of his films

the shoes 

she said
from that 

corridor scene
that spoke

of will & intent

in a menacing
metronome echo

TOM WAITS FRAG 1

she told him
when he had
egg on his face

&

his piano

is made of

cigarettes

she let him
take his
shoes off

&

gods away he said 

on business

business !

SCHOOLS OUT

that
legally
required
hormonal clusterfuck
forcibly
shared

well we ran 
at the very last bell

from 
condensation windows
impossible heating

from 
scheduled gore
&
the javelin ambulance

ouija boards & weapons
left in the 
cdt lab

~

the strange bubble burst

( first disappointment -
  polyester ties dont burn )

briefly we were happily bereft

&
its
illegal now
to ever return

rose tint glasses
handed out
with your
first
p45

school shoes kept
for 
the
interview tree

from quotesgram.com

TWO WATER POPS

WATER POP THE 1ST

i decide 
to have 
a good day

the abyss on my heels

does it matter
if the sun shines ?

~

i
am
an
absorbing eye

no snap judgement
no noticeable self
a fish out of water

down-low red alert beeps
silent coded epiphany seeps

before breakfast pills
fill in the space
above my shoes

~

it matters if the sun shines-

it keeps 
the abyss 
in the cistern

subdued by blue scented jelly



WATER POP THE 2ND

steel hulls force waves
to power out
like influence
and decree

diagonal ridges on the run
in
a
riled river 
of oil and ink

racing for the masts
of the sunken
bomb-ship
carcass

~

tanker of fonts
shed its load
out in the estuarys
great grey wedge

shoes off
at dusk
i count the moons in the surf

collect metaphors
bobbing against
storm wall cement 

under the failed outreach
of
all
the
ruined
wharves
sunken sign-off similes

ss richard montgomery from amusingplanet.com

HAT ON HEAD HUG

i wake up in a coffee shop
plastic like a picture menu

the
day
ahead
like
a
runway
on 
some backwoods drugdrop airfield

the familiar potholes
are four winters old

and i can make it
i can make it still

into a low holding pattern

if theres no crosswind
or too much ice

but i need the right shoes
definitely need the right shoes

something 
with 
an elastic waistband too

and a hat for a head hug

its like having a head hug 
all day long
when you got 
a soft hat on

from madeiraislandnews.com

READING THE YELLOW PRESS

cooking-hot 2015 & scientists worry

they always worry
thats what KNOWLEDGE does for ya - ha 

less than 20 yrs 
they say
less than 20 yrs

bleh & meh & netflix . . .
cos thats AGES . . .

eve of destruction ?
we read the yellow press

  i 
sit out there 
see the pm smog 
haze the hills
into shadow mountains

  i 
sit out there
the moons clear eye
turn
to
misty care-home cataracts 

    &
  anyway
if our shoes melt
  we
    can 
      buy 
        more
          cant we ?

reading the yellow press

from www.express.co.uk

LONG DAY

the day was long
like a mile is long
when
you
got
no
shoes
and the air is full of grit

a tear of tiredness
tickles
and
trickles
down
my 
nose 
like the first fat drop
of
an
indian summer downpour

its only 6 pm 
so
i dress carefully in tired optimism
and
put
the tv on quiet

 from en.wikipedia.org

STRANGE LITTER

i
cycle
home
under a sky the colour of a drunken bruise
weeping
a
million
raindrops
the rainbow colour of quartz
as
the
sideways sun from a tear of fire in the thunder black
catches
them
coming
down

and the verdant vibrant verge
is
muddied
with
the
cast of wind in the willows
mown down in the dark wet night
and
tossed
aside
after dawn showed them all
still
and
silent
and
colourless - forever asleep 
among 
the 
abandoned childs shoes

#

unknown artist, west sussex

CINDER WIND

i am Englishman cool in cinder wind 

lurid armless bird beak nodding

in leaf litter on hospital lawn

walking brisk in the hill malaise

cinder wind turn hot 

nervous prickle sweat

and Johnny floorsweep

holds his mop like a flag

like a lance

like victory

outside the toilet

blocked

turd is like an arm

deep in winter heating smell

of hallway

deep upstairs - deep in radiator paint

deep in Last Year

the Kings of Leon Winter

i am English boy

blowing years off in the cinder wind

on the Leukemia farm

where sponsorship child waits on the verge

overweight alone - by the whirl of fast cars

with the same gearbox to share

progress blocked by island trees of wood

always turning right

made by man consumed

and man in circles

island trees of meat - elemental - mental like wood -

theres something about wood . . . 

paper crushed by left hands in yesterdays

blue bus station

a homeless head in hands

sitting where

he came in from rain

and new turf like tiles

squares up to shiny glass

and dust the builders left

the baby grabs my hair

goes for glasses - kisses the mirror cushion

i think of Spain - think of yellow

yellow-

i am English boy - English toy

blown in the cinder wind

talk last year 

last year

last year

'take your coat off/you're staying for the weekend'

lean Leon streets of Bistros and kerbs-

cold and fresh in W1 and Islington

late drink surprised

walk the corners

lost in motion and drink

and parties are mixed blessing

and we text guessing addresses

when its hot and cold

and good and bad

and bottle roll over uneven lino's

and last year held tight fear

gripped little heart and gave a start

at the rock and roll winds

blowing nostalgia

of everyone who was ans wasn't there

like the cinder wind now

blowing cool

on my English shoes