DREAMING WITH STEPHEN & JOHN

they flee from the city
with feet lit crimson
& headlights in their hands

& happy clouds will love you
& the storm clouds match your gloom

& the stark scaffold of nude timbers
where words dwell with their ink 

welcome you in quiet moderation

then spurned

with no why 

they chase you 

thru the mist

to the beach at the end of the world
& you lunge
at a loss
into the weak grey surf

& you land home
to the windows & the colour
& what 

you say 

in the 

stephen king & john carpenter 

was that ?

DELIRIUM TAPAS VOL1

 

  penny haven juices   
  a gin mill town ago  

  rainbow oil in the gutter       
  aglow with machine flame flume  


  ~  

  the blunt windows square peg  

  thats the interweb            

  & its full of round holes     

  pun intended                  

RAIN & OTHER SKETCHES

rain blown windows 

obscure

the

trees lash 

but tired


~

the wino god
let light in

thru
the last tranquillity holes-
became glass pillars 
a soulful punched 
scotch glow beam


~


hand on the cat

cat sleeps

plague on the poor streets

days billow uncertain
a slo-mo mushroom cloud

MOUSE MADRIGAL 1 - FOUND POMES

DARK DREAMS AND DUSK THAT CALLS YOU OUT

my

dreams

are

funerals where the dead mourn too

my

dreams

orbit

the heart of sickness

like stealth satellites

they monitor numbers stations

broadcasting blind

on

a

carpet

stain

moon 

~

and theres a castle

in the hinterlands there

i

built

it

from

soft bricks of flesh

( imagine a lego brick

  but soft to the touch

  and layered with 

  pale veined skin )

the castle in the hinterlands there

its uninvaded 

its cold turkey

its a plucked goose tower

vibrating

in

the

rain

and  

every

drop

has

its designated landing zone

a ledge to swell on

and a sky to reflect

~

and the castle windows are holes now

where 

we

used

to

where we used to

~

and well

dusk has some balls 

dont it ?

doing what it does

everyday

telling us 

what

we

dont

want to hear

its over

it says

its over again

so lay yourself down again

and worry again

that you done enough

or havent

( havent )

~

and i fall 

without moving

into

prescribed

sleep

into

undirected

theatre

into the castle there

its walls lined

with

the

detachable organs

of

another

nights

mad surrender

~

and i can only be grateful

when it lets me return

in one piece 

back to

dusks

upside down

morning

from rpgdrivethru.com

WAITING ON ANOTHER ELVIS DAWN

that cut grass smell
is
a
sip from yesterdays rainbow

and
next door
they
all
gone
out

taking their racket elsewhere

and all our doors and windows
are
open

and the peace is palpable

an elephant on the lawn

~

time was
summer nights
falling sun
felt like magic

or magics shadow

it was like watching a cats tail
sliding away
thru the door

and it left the hint of a spell
on the warm cement
to
drink
to

and
id
drink
to 
it

spilling my brain all over the black

waiting  
on
another
crystal dawn

that wasnt so much magic
as a reward

or red cross relief

and
there
was
elvis
on the radio

singing like he did
like he still does

elvis in 1973 from picmonkey.com

SHIT BRICK HOUSES

from cruiselinerhistory.com 1929 ms kungsholm

MONDAY POPS

THE ACCIDENTAL JIVE

i
trust
in
the
coincidence
and
accidental jive
in
the
back-brain autopilot 
under 
the 
erosion and fog
to
make
my
scribbles
call 
sense their friend


CAFFEINE FREE

how thin the world is
without
stimulants
in
the 
morning mug

a detox / a fast
willful suffering

calling 
out 
to
a new peace
to
swell
my
world buddha plump


LOOK INSIDE

i
write
open
windows
you
can
look
in
and
see
my disguises
folded
on
shelves

FUCKTOWNS BELLY

day has opened its windows
and
pulled
the
nights
walls down 

melted them into water

water is on the lawn with long shadows
and
is
cried
over
the
cool
cars
in shining baubles - run into rivers 
over bonnets and bumpers
as the workers fire their pistons
and
move into gear

the sky is uniform grey
like a used dish rag
or
gods
sick
turned
back
in a garbage shirt old as time

the day has rotten teeth
men
in
hi-vis
drill the cavities out
their
machines
echo
off
quiet bungalow walls

fucktowns belly bellows van motors
and mutters outside the paper shop
subdued sirens creep thru trimmed bushes

urgent but no too urgent

fucktowns belly
belches
like deep currents out in the brown river

fucktown eating us with its rotten teeth
eating
our
high street wanders
and
drs appointments
our estate agent window perusals 

deep in fucktowns belly 
it mashes us up 
into
tonights
new
adobe 
walls

from lawnsmith.co.uk