Saturday, 30 October 2010


Passed into middle age verses of smoke
Twisting in a soap shower
Pulling at what could of been white wings

Possibly this whole facade dies in a spotlight
Of Suburban cancer
(It's in our inheritance)
Possibly oven baked suicide

For what you'll make of it
I still decide
To pass on soft offers
I keep pushing shields
To protect a future present

Keep guessing

Friday, 29 October 2010

Missed Rehearsal

To the honeymooners

V and J pull it off
To see
Between skulls either Greek
Swiss or
Irish does fill
The eyes

Some petals he spread
On proposal
Dry on marble
And inside a bag
Their love’s undoubtable

Mine's a piss stain
Chipped glass outdated
A punctured tire

Will this bruised brain
Still stutter
On careful conversation
In Quarters?

Thursday, 28 October 2010

The Invented

On a balcony’s mouth
I told you about a change

But how unoriginal
I’m stuck with same
Insufficient cajonas
And a weak guard

There’s much fucking worse
On your rue’s
Than my soft curse

Crowd’s booed Bizet when he
Ripped out Carmen
Animals got gutted
And bashed at Porte de la Villette

Beckett was shanked
By a pimp

In comparison
I’ve just invented
My letdowns.

Monday, 25 October 2010

Fat Chance

Checking my payload
And getting the bus from Old St
To the crossroads to fall
Asleep and end up
Past wood green
To some suburban stop

And I remember some young
Chick whose brother had been shanked
Showed us her tits and then bummed
A smoke off me as I sat at the bar
Of the Hoxton Hotel limning
On truth and beer on tab

Stuffed of hot beef
And slow cooked eggs
I ran away from morning breaking
Shaved and showered
And now....

Monday, 18 October 2010


I preserve dark pets in
Sterilised bottles and jars

Next to marmalade and damson
Are guilty night jam
Sex hangover extracts

Once opened use within
Six weeks and refrigerate

Sunday, 17 October 2010

Pillow Talk

Tattooed toes blue
Birthmarks in tribute
To Crawford

What I’d give
To push
My face
Against wet net

This floating mind

MaƮtre d' on my wishful d
What a mother dream

Thursday, 14 October 2010

Easy come, easy go.

This particular broad
Had the wholesome look
Spaghetti thick hair
Clear water skin
Bodacious boobs.

Powerful fatless legs
A cunt with the smell
Of baked bread.

She was born to model lingerie
Or swimwear

Not to hang with an insensate
Irish bollocks
Not to support a talent
No one has patience for.

Tuesday, 12 October 2010

Stunt Cunt

A lady’s hand finds my proud
Cock in darkness without
A pause the balls stop
Sagging she presses tongue tip
Oh my
On my
Open eye practice
Is known to make perfect
And boy We practice
Dress rehearsal run throughs
Script readings but
Not after lunch or
During menu planning
In tradition:

Kids asleep, door closed,
Washed and curtains drawn.

Monday, 11 October 2010

She Did/Did She

My dog Argus sniffs and snuffs
Upstairs by this thin door

She can't believe I don't have curtains
And we keep the window open

Hearing my name being called

Bear and drunk
Constant in a goal
We squeak bedsprings
As my maternal figure

Smokes asleep
As if there was someone

Paying tame regard
To soap

Saturday, 9 October 2010

Who Did You See?

The picturesque lunatic
Scratching his balls and still finding
It hard
To spell Naomi

Is in a bad way

Not clitoral ablation or
Nasal septum deviation

While working the forehand
And serve
He saw Hitler buying a book
In Northern France

And Bobby Fischer drinking
Cans of Dr Brown’s Cel Ray Soda

Tuesday, 5 October 2010

The Magic of the Internet

Your Google homepage
Search engine bar blank
Easy instant
And free

Porn tiny boxes
Flashes of videoed panties on
Off fingers tongue
A new arrival
Nude panties on again
And the arrow glides over
One suitable by
Now your ballbags tightened up
Cock is pointing play
You watch and tug she’s
Rubbing her cunt against a mirror
There’s no music or magic
Just the reverberation of a blue
maybe it’s her house

The ubiquitous dildo
Appears in almost all these
Clips usually pink
Metal or see through
And with one halfway in her butt
She grimaces and reminds you of
Someone real but let get away so
You try tidy up
Both working
Towards finishing the past and
To come

Saturday, 2 October 2010

They Say

I was in the room

Straining to catch
They say your ears burn
When someone talks about you

My left ear to the wall
My hands pressed with balance

It hurt
To hear this name being
Fucked &
Pissed on

It hurt
To hear her say...