The snake belt

This pill we have to swallow ( and quite right, two does not make a Summer ) the harsh rules we have to follow, no shortages now the hoarders must have enough. I should have wriiten this on blotting paper but it spreads out anyway and will fade away like reflections of a memory changing…

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This one from that one

Welcome home. Civilisation, the last resort and the predator’s report for duty. You want it when you want it and if you don’t it won’t sway you, say, you a predator too? Some sugar is a spice to entice men because men are easily led. We buy what you sell. cross our hearts not to…

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fifteen centimetres

..and when you get old you’ll be told what we are being told now, they will wear us down erode our values until we have nothing left to lose. ..and when they’ve torn down the old town you won’t even know where you came from. This much-vaunted renaissance is in fact a psychiatric hospital and…

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The whistle blower

Avidly following the sword swallower and still wondering where it goes. I used to swallow my words but I haven’t done that in ages, And it’s not that I’m always right more often than not I’ve got it wrong. When I was younger I charmed a snake charmer she was a bit older, the snake…

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Saturday init?

Nothing to do with the alcohol when you wake up feeling dizzy, isit? the world spins too fast and that’s the real cause, Press play and record, pause and rewind I think you’ll find it’s all okay, Life! someone has to live it, so why not me? Still raining here and it seems to be…

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In the diary

Innocence is like the sun going down not knowing the night is dangerous, people like us are the innocents the put upon the shut down the trampled on, tomorrow we should move on the capital lose our innocence fight intolerance shame ignorance and light the way…

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Interruptions

Slouched across the sofa so far, so good and then the doorbell rings. ” Is Jesus in your life?” intoned the witness for Jehovah, I informed him that I was married and the question was irrelevant, he left with a puzzled frown on his face, I went back to my place on the sofa, so…

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Surfacing

Most times when I wake there’s an idea taking shape, a poem in the offing, today there is nothing. but hey I can write about anything, that’s something I know about, and anyway nothing never worried me except for my epic failure back in nineteen eighty-three and I think she’s forgiven me by now. So…

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Sticking down the alphabet

The road down to tomorrow starts on the road we walk today, walk slowly it’s a long way and I only say that because tomorrow’s not really that, tomorrow might be a mile or a million along the road that you walked down.yesterday. Who’s got time for philosophy? mine is the might, said the Lord,…

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Trampoline Tommy

Death is like when you’re looking at a flashing cursor with nothing in mind, word blind and you think you’re worse off than me? the bottle’s nearly empty and I am still sober I don’t want a tomorrow but the night’s nearly over. I’ve lived this moment for a thousand years ten thousand pages soaked…

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Arena

A snooze button and autoplay should be a standard fitting on Thursday, it’s almost where, ‘are we there yet’ begins and ends, but not quite, still got Thursday night to do. Coffee tastes like a false dawn but I wasn’t even born when that broke. Peeling my shadow off the radiator and looking like an…

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Diary entry #31a

I started writing to let some light in and then I became blinded which again reminded me of why I started writing. I see it as a therapy to get me through the darkness…

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Whitewalls

The committeemen committed me the doctors then admitted me the nurses were all nice to me and put me in a padded cell, well I could complain but I never do leaving that up to the likes of you so I sit here with my old friend Fu Manchu waiting for Napoleon to arrive…

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A case of…

When something’s itching at you from somewhere deep inside you and the need to know just what it is is the need that just defied you. It’s there and I will find it ( I played Cluedo as a kid ) but the pen that opens up the word for you to read the mildly…

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Him and I

    Talks in Aramaic paints in acrylic, a mixture of language and time in his hands.   Stands in the corner watches the curvature, the universe he spies never lies.   Building scale models of historical figures from matchsticks he found in the ashtrays of tutors.   And you’ll make a fuss, say that…

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Page

And the old man with arthritis, he can’t half write us some poetry, a gammy leg one gammy knee, but his written words have the kiss of a honey bee and they hit the spot, I’d like a pint of what he’s got, failing that I’ll just read on…

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Alpha waves

I haven’t yet come to the best bit but I’ll write it one day. Monday coming in quick. Sunday was done for what for? I never got to know it another best bit waiting on the wing…

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When you’re trying to write

light distracts me the switch that the night brings cajoles and attracts me, she knows me too well. My cell in hell will have pictures of Bananarama on the walls and I’ll be climbing them, (the walls, not Bananarama) Ideas are like buses in that you wait for one and ten come along at once,…

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Medicine men

I bind the wounds but poetry bleeds out from me and I am dying slow, (slowly) (which makes it rhyme) But I never gave a rats ass if things rhymed or just fell flat, my life was this and though some say cat’s have nine lives I’ve had ninety three and to me that’s certainly…

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Ticking over

No one needs a PhD to write poetry, you just need a pen and sometime you can just use your mind as a notepad. But sometimes when poetry calls and I get in a tizz I just write on the walls, (Banksy you can thank me later)…

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