It wasn’t a real place and that wasn’t her real face,heybut we all wear a maskuntil they askwho you areand thenthe dream flies out of thewindowwhen you awaken and knowyou’re a no show, Awolfrom your own reality…
Category Archives: 2020
Another pickle jar
Me, meaning my, said the Lancashire guy,me or my as inI won me bet or these are me mates,my is seldom used and I don’t know why. it all seems a bit slapdash to meand I mean me not my and that’swhy it’s confusing using me, hahanot using me, you understand,just using the lingo of…
Economics #101
Poverty is the ready reckonerthe finger that beckons yawhenyou count all your blessings andcome up a bit short,it’sa dis-ease thrust upon youwhere the richer do not trust youand only the poor will assist youand they can’t even help themselves…
Small
I bet when we get there it’s limboand if so, then why would we go?…
Making the point
I do not have a lien on lunacythat bastard Boris got thereahead of meand Pfizer wants to put thingsinside of me,nope,I do not have the lien on lunacy…
Cue music
There are lions at the pillars of Herculesand clowns on the road down belowthere’s a marching band playing at Yellowstonewaiting for the geysers to blow, but we know what it’s like to feel all aloneto sit and remember the noiseand what I wouldn’t give to go backand to live my time again with all the…
The interruption
relics from a bygoneantiques on a road show,the only thing I do knowis that I’m not one of those she hands me the tea-towelI dry the dishes, life goes on…
Tuesday in Tooting
This is far too earlyandnope, no and, it’s just too early, Lockdownitus is getting to memy ears are twitchingsomeone’s talking about meand it’s onlytwenty-five past three,far too fukin early for me. But the moment passes into obsidian,oblivion, word constipation? seems like Lockdown’s a cure for everysituation that arises for this governmentof the day, did I…
Automatic spin
It’s all a repeatI lostgot beatbeat a retreatit’s all a repeat. but how things come back to taunt you,those you loved, their faces haunt you I forget them now and thenand realise it only whenI remember again, but wanting to will never do,and never doing, but wanting too,and face ityou love the haunting of your…
Iffy
..and then I didn’t feel like writingit was dark in my soul and so I popped out an eye to let a little light in,still didn’t feel like writing. and the blood congealing feltlike a healing handandthe hand pushed me onand the feeling of not wanting to writehad goneleaving only an inkblot where an eyeused…
Light sleeper
The rain woke me at threeI listened for a whileand then I made tea. It’s not raining between the raindropsand yetit’s not dry but wet. SorryI got sidetracked by the expansion and contraction of time and space which threw a spanner in the works which probably works like time and space, see what I mean?…
The breaking of Baxter
Sometimes the phonograph thinks it’s an old photograph and the man in the cape on the bridge is me and sometimes I can be quite obscure like when I’m leaning on the railings blowing kisses at all my failings as I watch them fall away,the wax disc revolves as my own life dissolves into sepia…
Coins in the fountain
‘Christmas is comingthe goose is getting fat’I’m always hungrysoI’m having some of that. I could survive onhot mince pies orcurried turkey on Boxing day anda tot or two ofKaty Daley’s mountain dewwould blow me clean away…
Last night
I read myself to sleepletters turned into sheepand the words turned into little Bo-Peeplast nightI read myself to sleep…
In a town out East
Do you want to give everything you live for, love for, to die for what you’re sure about? It’s already been doneby the son of Man, seethere’s nothing newandnothing you can dothat alters the truthof who you are,butwhat you can becomeis something far greaterthan the sum. I’m busy trying to work this out,there’s something about…
Just this
Dear Santa,For this Christmas of 2020I’d like some spaceand I’d really like plentyandif there’s room in your sackI’d like to go backto Christmas,1964…
Break a leg
What a pantomimeor will kids askwhat’s a pantomime? he’s behind you!he’s behind you!but Zoom blinds youto the obvious…
Period
WellI’m thinkingthat of an ageis all the ragewhenyou’re of an age. and if younger is de rigueurdon’t forget thatrigor mortis meets us all inthe endwhich is only fair, fuk it’s Friday nightnot a soul in sightI might just go to bed…
Half-pint harp
The central heating pipes play me a merry tune as I stare out of the window with my eyes set on the moon and I know she knows that I think of her wondering where she goes when the sun decides to show its face. getting up is such a palaverwhen I’d rather stay in…
Do it now
Is there life on Sars,not Bowie, but you know hecould have sung it, we’re all fuckin superstars now. Ned Kelly?well hewould bebut shegot there first, ask to be maskedattend the balls,socially distanced waltzesinornate chandeliered halls. you couldn’t make it upbutthey could have faked it uplike the Moon landing oops…
