In a thumbflick

Is the world unfurled

Mine are clumsy unused

Maladapted digits

Insignificant swollen

Leprous pointless digits

One may conclude there’s no point

In this activity

One may so conclude

Rose Garden


fulsome glaucoma moon,


low above charcoal frieze.


sky on a cryptic pole


barked by you and me

A Query Occurs


Soft wild






‘Why must I




Tell it:

‘Do what’s best’


Coffee rashers scraps

skidmark sunshine larks startle

descending Fuji

seasickness overwhelmed me

entered Turin shrouded grey

pollution made me husky

Yeti uttered clumsily

‘Attitude sickness, Nietzsche?’


I smiled like a mad trappist

Remembering who I was


Mass aerologic

Agent puella beehive

Kind as lost kind sculptures

Waving sad eyed drooped

Medicated breasts point

Easy on the shore: tortured

As an impossible embrace

Your face is what it is.


Flensed moonstruck vivid

Carcass oozing midnight oil

A scream breaks within

What Dolores did:

She came

She saw

She lingered

Dawn Curfew

Electric off for new

pole & cable till two pm,

so no internet,

phone, heat, cooker…sun out

though, or at least

simple Silence!


Make coffee eitherway.

The Burial at Thebes on

the cd-player…


…still no poles, thus no cables, thus no grub.

Ate crisps,

slurped cold coffee,

listened to Heaney, trapped.


About tooth-hurty

Power restored thanks to

Kerry & Belgrade

civilisation’s end

is rewired

Sweet Home

Most every dusk

I am obliged

To check

the lobster pots

fourteen crooked


(there are rusted

Wobbly rails)

Most nights zilch



In the lapping

Crouched desperate

Grey as granite

In favoured splash

One is caught,


In time by tide

The Homecoming when…

cows bell on

in vain

we wait in

vain… …



door thuds



a trick

resounds on


rain fun rumble

three sang along

in the rain again,

smirked chortling

dutifully wept

sentimental soapy

tears mourning

for some life

through opaque panes

ill wind crusty gusts

dry blown punchy,

rain splashed,

citron yellow

forsythia endures,

rose hip plumage crests

nascent runner beans

catch a wind whispers

coy callous menace


my stomach flutters,

argent tensions bristle,

angst swallows thrill,

thus I turn granite,

search for quarry


some plumbing rattles,

a rat up a pipe,

a hoopoe head banging

a tin tray…

prospects of shower shrinking,

postponement permitted

till pre-luncheon…




Till he learnt




still alive





suggests the notion

of doing things like jumping

back in the third floor window

of my ground floor bungalow:



Rainy day runaway

wild raspberry soaking wet

sodden eucalyptus

light damp fires

squatting hunkered

grounded primal musk

eyes whitened

scouting dense nature

alert to predator & prey

after the weir

As well you know

Only too well

There are certain things

That it is

Too hard to tell

That’s what surprised me

About technology


Just for example

The mystery of silence

Clever blank guarded

Gruff still responses

From a noisy lathe

When woodbine ash

Melted your cheap nylon shirt

You scowled adult



Big thing found out

Soon swallowed

in a brice instant

like we are more scared

of being found out

than death itself

go take a look around

Thames Dutton


Weather caster

Concerns me


Plausibly gesturing

With ersine feedback




Amos Quito?

So, this is wroot

To derendes epoch

Saline killllls water

Lanbs breed slaughter


She walks in duty


Breaking wind

When no one else is there

Just like the queen does






warm, fed, filthy.

Clean up afternoon

about to commence…


Gas! Gas?

An bumbling of Ecstasy

Gerald the duds!

I.e. –

extraneous clobber, tea-cloths,

spoons, spinakers

& various other

absorbent materials

must be procured!

-Water’s pissing out

the cunning light bulb…

All may perish in electric shocks!


After something of a flurry

(containing an ill-timed phone call

about a flat tyre outside a Service Station)

I eat ready salted crisps and listen


to ‘A Night of Bear Mountain’


What’s ‘is face (must Google that);


with the dripping ceased,

I read about mixed bathing in Minehead,

Giggled modestly & boiled

a kettle for more old, new spuds,

As I smoked

chainlessly thinking

poached salmon, solitude,

garden peas and Otium…

Sphinx Gang

Round eleven it burns down

The engines are turning,

churning up

dormant subterranean turtles,

laying flat kerbs for giant cars,

upheaving monitor eggs,

yellow men

coral them in sandpits,

soon they’ll be hatched out

by stray, broody ostriches

weary, careworn nomads,

whose ivory gonads bristle

in brutal

municipal sackcloth

bend to add

another egg to the pyramid


There we are.


Full four waking hours

nothing written again.


I’ve done a bit around the house and person:

read some news,

thought a lot,

disowned a BMW,



no words yet.

Scarified a singing cake?

No, me not neither.

The Runner beans flower lurid,

linctus thick,

sickening dayglow orange.

The Lemon leaved shrub tree fast asleep.

Eat – 08:49.

Postponed (onset catatonia)


Opus Day

I hurt myself


to see if I was real

Beats a day alone

Listening to the trombonist

Waiting on a serenade


Yes, a moon light

serenade plays

Puce sunset sporting

rotating knives

cops my eye

naked colonnades –

 you get the idea?


Under this a small crouched mammal flits

(though one simply

cannot be sure

for certain in

neon septic light);

were I forced.



(yet again!)

to hazard a guess

I would say an

anteater or

a stumpy mule







Sheer Roodness!

they knelt

they pondered


other wordly



he wolfed

down his lunch

sat back


and howled



There’s something better

on the pad, but I can’t be

bothered any more

Thanks for Asking…

My aspiration?

To achieve nil interest

For the sake of it



Just gone noon see what’s

what that?

That’s  Danny’s doing

He turned up,

got stoned and stared, words clipped

staring snarling cleared;

silver crossed palms

spout cautious agreement;

Good, good! Brown

Crumpled squashed, unabashed

Sound tomatoes procured and paid for;

Sometimes later, writing this

Zen in hand

Foreign Lands…

so immediate


Had a dump,

A Byzantine midday documentary

Golf’s showcase drowns…

familiar car doors slam:

‘…another bright idea!’

Too bad to be true:

Fix on object random

memory whiletimes


Pukes on the mobile

Peabody Rides Again!

Wild Turkey Shootfest

Bring a bottle and gourd

Drink yourself good health


Mistah Kurz, he said:

‘Rum red rivervalley

Tongue blue mountain brooks

Sleek creek on the rise.’

Poor man not well in the head

Feed him quorn and alfalfa

Wait for mushroom puff

Stuff all mouths with brutal nectar

In Shinbone we’re all loopy.

Real Skint

Those who write for profit

& those who right for gain

Never had it in the first place

They’re all the fucking same








Not since it coughed thrice

Cleared sick sinister Niles

Gizzards full of bile

Slimy sotto voce

Logo a la mode – but soft!

It is returned (if only

For a little while…)

Stevie Smith

Smith makes a double ton:

not since Bradman in’38

achieved by a floppy green.

The game has evolved.

The song remains the same.

I salute you, sir!

Nestling Down

Everyone is loved

Does the curlew wish sometimes

Eager for regard?

Prima donna nightingales

decimate the yard

Quietly survive

Polishing awkward

Neat facial features


Buff standard pollock

Sneezes mauve breezes

Fleecing carnations

Quiet creeping tunes

Caraway flowers say

Dry cadavers twitch

why should they snitch?


The kettle keeps on


Bloody boiling

Thank God!

It has stopped



At last it has boiled

now appears the clock





I am cognizant

that steam is drifting

wafting lingering

around the funnel



Before it calms down

comes to its senses

condescends to apply



Slam door thud silence

Frantic lunchtime microwaves

Hard working people

Hug, stare, weep

True meant empathy

leaves me quick warm disarmed



Rinsed the duds and ate the eggs,

leaving Saigon was wild.

Writing is difficult.


Is that sun or

am I dreaming?

Ought to shave

Free up the dishes.




Midday hay

Fade away

Cried the day


Child screams

Dog barks

Dull double


Every day


Breakfast with Luxemburg

Boiled eggs, please Comrade!

Some of that nice bread, perhaps

a slither of Black Forest Ham?

Oh…and a coffee.

Milk? Just a sprinkle.

Sugar? Just a slice.

Recycling Day

rainy day bin men

removing green detritus

leaving plastic crates


Head Master

When you think you have

Had enough give out

Give out, give out

Give up

Open your book and look

At that cringeful

Self- indulgent


Yes that is the truth

Your poetry



through motions go…

Unwell comes, visits

Experiencing heart failure

I feel nothing but disdain

Compassion absent

Try at least to make an effort

A semblance of concern

Automatic  niceties

Is anyone for menace?

altogether now…

Unshaven, filthy heap,

Condescends to wake

moping like a slum,

anticipating the worst.

A pained animal wails

Comatose in the garden.

More cloud and damp certified


Bacon butties, washing, sweep floor,

then…yes! There’s the rub.

Yesterday’s exchanges were ominous,

dictat is not assertion.

No plan, just command.

Move me bed upstairs!

Trouble is brewing…


Ten china doves in gloves

Scattered shattered crowd the path…

Showered, swept, washed, cooked,

consumed, answered the phone,

all alone for another day,

masquerading competence,

kidding no one but myself


One man play for the F-Bomb…

ludic, fractious notion.

Fish & chips made from

leftover garden spuds?

And why the hell not?

When forensic finally

Turn up the flies are long gone

After harsh words

evening survives

fractious discommodius

brash plans expounded

ad ultra nausea

bored brow beaten silent

salvage cold drab remnants

glum scrumptious luncheon

weeping olive oil


A Gambuccini:

means false swarmy wanker

in my new language

the vacuous new yorker

false as seddaka

wastes everyone’s time

serving up baloney

to the dying masses

of old grey’s whistles

that no-one ever

gave a shit about

Acute Ward

The gloop got me again

Slogging through deep wet grass

A schizo bombed out

In the giant Odenwald


Tying shoelaces

That are not there

Combing auburn hair

on a freshly shaved pate

waiting for muck on a truck

the mollify monopoly



critical masses

above the above

You alone head zone reveals

Red river valley instead

Blue mountain harbour

Also sprach zarathustra

Cobbler and salmon devour

lolling on smokey grey sill

Morning Greek gifts despoiled

Is business usual?

not on your nelly…


‘What you want’s is a kick shit


Said Sal

‘What you needs is

A cretinous creditor!’

Sal said as

I listened in silence

‘Love me Daddy, do’

Life’s full of compromises.

We smiled.


The Patron Saint of Savages

Derailed Sunday lunch on

Whacko Acapulco juice

Cinnamon sticks

Glum multitudes

Nosey aunties

Hoe are tings on googanbarra?

Hello! Nice to meet me

You too…over and over again

In short, I’m starving

Wrecked & Lazy…


(as god is my judge)

Derelict Cucumberpatch

Appeared in a silver

Killer suit

How could one not swoon?

Tilly asked with oblique reference:

‘Was Ralph Richardson

As thin as that once?’Drunk

Glance sea

sand like time


through my fingers


down chiffon

fifteen golden grains

resting on my

infant toes

Gut Feeling

Sausage, bacon, tomato in a brown bap.

Crucial glider crisis talks underway –

quite a tussle by the sound of it.

Day gone shady grey,

all hangs dangling in the balance.

How to plump?

Pros outweigh cons

and vice versa.

Alternatives to impasse:

half measures, no measures, more measures.

Thorny problem, telling points on both sides.

Sweep floor: time out, pause for thought,

check for rain, wait for a sign, a determinant…

indigestion breeds procrastination


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