Dreaming of a normal day.
A bus ride home without incident,
or a walk of solitude.
Just my thoughts
mingling with the cold,
night air.
Too dark to see where i am.
too loud my music to think.
Peace has broken out
in my head.
Mery,
thank the lord.
M
Your beautiful.
All fur and intrigue.
As i leave this satellite,
to take my own orbit.
You give me inner peace,
and a fresh bag of carefully,
prepared Sandwiches.
My eyes look no further
than you.
The Last Pub in town which serves warm Beer
The lights are orange
No smoking ban will take away
the stains of tobacco and warm hearts
Men standing
Some playing pool
Others messing with the Jukebox
Hoping to find a song that can Cover
the unbearable howl of their own Existence
Raucous laughter as people spill out Into the alleyway
to discuss women
And roll cigarettes.
Each one of them leaves a terrible life At the door
Ex wives
Broken families
Joblessness
The recession
Broken teeth, or unfashionable clothing
But they come together Like they have always done
Great men People who know how to live
Who knew this was waiting for them Later in life.
They will stay too long
Knowing the consequences
Knowing what they will come home to
A prolonged and painful fight with the wife
Or a cold empty home which echoes and amplifies every sound they make.
Here they will stay Until their son’s school lunch money Is drunk
Or until that howl Becomes too much To bear
I always wanted to be a Rap Star
I always wanted to be a Rap star
But i never had cool enough friends.
As soon as i got to the level that i thought was the pinnacle
Someone aloof with better trainers(Creps) would turn up
and id have to start all over again.
But i wrote some tunes.
80% im not proud of,
10% i can recite today,
5% i cant work out my handwriting.
And another 5% hs ben forgotten like my first pair
of Reebok Pumps.
But some of it stayed with me.
A will to create.
An appreciation of a particular beauty.
A hatred of the mainstream and a hatred of
spit in your face manufactured culture.
Who knows
In Ten years i might be cool enough
Lets just wait and see……
The Final Godforsaken Act.
Sometimes the Rain brings with it
A wind that silences traffic.
A breeze that whistles passed your ears
clearing the noise of traffic away into the
Gutters.
Leaves take on a life of their own.
Entangling themselves.
Clipping your ears and generally
Acting the fool.
It proves that nature still has the final hand.
That even our vast structures could not withstand
The forces of the elements if they so choose
To destroy us.
And lets be honest,
I think we all want it to happen.
We save a piece in the back of our psyche.
In the back of our brains.
For the walls to come down.
For us to rush to our loved ones in vain.
We know its coming.
A biblical atrocity
To wipe clean the white board,
To revert back to norm.
To erase the memories.
The Heart has a will of its own
Round the snooker table she walked
Leaving behind her a trail of sex and high spirits
She was the last pure rose I ever saw
And when I followed her out of the building
Down the steps and out into
The cold night air,
even the overwhelming smell of street garbage
Could not take my attention from her wiggling behind
She leapt into the taxi with an assurance that defied her
Early age.
Through the smoked glass of the window
I could see her pull her purple Skirt to cover her
thighs
She didn’t wave with her hands
but her eyes passed over me twice
And I felt more alive then ever.
Life
The Sun Beats down and I sneeze.
The rain comes down and I sneeze.
The daylight rises and I get a headache from being up
too early staring at this screen.
As the daylight fades my head starts to ache from trying to
read a 1979 chapbook from David Barker.
There appears to be only a window of opportunity
just before full solar eclipse and the darkness it throws upon the earth.
Even now the suns glare makes reading what I type on the laptop virtually impossible,
so I will head to the conservatory where there is shade but also the smell of paint,
which gives me a headache.
Maybe God is a critic after all.
Anthony
I’m sorry I did it
You came crawling along my shoe and i flicked
you with my left index finger,
right into the spinney fingers of the hungry spider.
You don’t belong to the same laws, logic or reasoning that I do.
I don’t know if you have a family or if you will be missed or even noticed.
I thought the same thing just the other night at work, this time when I stood on a snail.
My walk to the smoking shelter had indeed been the walk of the executioner
I only realised when I heard the cracking of shell underfoot.
But you Ant, or did you prefer Anthony?
You I flicked because you annoyed me,
it was my house you crawled in to.
It was my dirty Nike trainer that you decided to treat like an assault course.
But if a human did that would i throw him into the cage with the Lions?
Probably.
A surrealist dream
Your face covered in beetles
black and white shells scrabble for flesh
just a mop head full of grey to black hair with a brush of non existent fringe
maggots flick there bodies amongst the foliage
hundred of them cuddle up to me
rotting fruit let of a smell of death mixed with summers gone
and all I can think of is setting you alight to burn away the bad dreams
they feed on my scar tissue they feed on my thoughts
death I everywhere
in my soup
in the bread I rip apart
in the wooden chair that I sit on
and I think of you every night
blank
passed
alone.
Im Sat Here
So I sit here
Smoking these cigarettes that make me ill
Drinking this beer that makes me tired
Watching the world as it creates and digests
on a Sunday afternoon
Everyone seems happy but it cant be true
Because in the back of my mind I know
The weekend is nearly over
Gnawing its way to the forefront like a child
Chewing his comfort blanket
Away from home
Wasting the last hours like I do every weekend
If only we could adjust the scales
Press the pause button
Stop the tape
Like an old C90 with no label
And when you find a tape recorder
And you put it on
All you can hear is feedback
And the fuzz of Saturday vanishing
Monday is looming overhead
I can see his horns in his shadow
