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…

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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…

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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?…

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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…

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Last night

I read myself to sleepletters turned into sheepand the words turned into little Bo-Peeplast nightI read myself to sleep…

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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…

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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…

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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…

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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…

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Sometime when

Astound with your remediesthe cure for all my maladies. and you thought I meantmi’ ladies. I am teetering on the outer edgeof the universe, but as the universe expandsso shall I stand, teetering on the brinkof what thoughts taught me to think, the inevitability of it all mocks meeven as she rocks the cradleI am…

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More from misery guts

Leave out a drink for Santa?yeah!that’s about as likely as chestnutsroasting by an open fireand it does seem to be the seasonfor an open fire,big guns on a no-deal from those who don’t feel as if they’re quite the ticket and it is anyway a bit leg before wicket init?no ballsare balls, but they don’t…

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Money markets

They’re still talking in billionsand we’re almost bankrupt,physicallymorallytomorrow we’ll betotally shot,butback to the run-upmaybetomorrow at sun-upwe’ll think of the weekendwondering how it will all end, abruptlylike this…

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Nil points

Scarsnot angry anymorebut mutedas if they want to hide,become thepale reminders ofhaunted bladesin the all-night diners, Living with them becausewho would I be without them?…

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Lighting the burner

Wednesday,a day for lovers and leftovers,bubble and squeak halfway throughthe week is what makes me, me. As for the loving,it’s never too late. Look, he said,a fortune cookie,she saves it for a rainy day. Enough of this frivolitymust get up, shower and shaveand make some tea,seeya later…

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Half past fifteen o-clock

Everything’s out of kilterlife has lost its balance wheelthe mainspring’s gone all slinkythe escapement’s screwed, he thinks she is to blameshe thinks his excuses are lame, I think that skydiving’s a viableoption and a parachute is in myopinionnecessaryshe packs it happily for meI get worriedtoo easily, perhaps I’ll go sailing instead…

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Roaming

An eye for an eye?Polyphemus blinkedand it was game over. winner takes all. Tuesday andsomeone has to pay, it’sbloody cold out on the balconyRomeo can take a hike,Shakespeare, ‘get on your bike’something Tebbit wouldn’t saywellnot on Tuesday anyway…

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The broker

Racing against it and running out of it,raving at strangersraging injusticesrivers of refugeesbegging forsomeone to help usplease. Are we just bubbles that poporbubbles that stop, oreven bubbles that neverrise up to the top? who’s blowing themthat’s what I want to know. Christmas and what?there are those who have andthose who have not,life is truly becoming…

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Pinocchio nose

At least four Mondays in a monthand at least four ways to look at themlove ’em or loathe ’em it seemsthat we’re stuck with ’emI don’t mind themin factI find themquite refreshing…

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Kings and cutthroats

Elijah tell me,who will rise andbeckon to me?andElijah calls outAhab,broken, bound byharpoon trail will indeedrise without failand though we listened we still set sailin search ofel dorado…

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Mills and men

It was suddenly Sunday and I shuddered awake, then I wound up my gears and took off the brake, need oilingbutI’ll do,not too oldnot too newbutI’ll do…

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