Butter on a Sunday

Anxiety is my wife
and contentment my mistress
Apathy my daily bread
Joy my once a week
Butter on a Sunday
I am Mitcham Eastfields
And you
You're Hyde Park.

The Book of the Film

Wishing and waiting
I will watch from afar
Around the corner is
Where you will find me
Safely ensconced
In my own head
Dreaming of tales
Which could be real
If I dared to step
Out of my book
and into my film
From black and white
to technicolour
I could have it all
But then I always preferred
the Book to the Film

Walls

Rooms and walls,
Some straight, some curved.
Ceilings high and low,
Architraves and skirting boards.
To beam, or not to beam
That is the question.
So many rooms
I have called home.

Swimming

Into the wild, into the wild
Swimming, swimming, swimming
Through my mind,
Thoughts of me, thoughts of her
Spinning, falling, crashing, burning.

Cool, cool water, releases me
The same water flows
Further than the eye can see
Out to sea, see
The salt, cleansing me
I wish, wish to be
Salty, sweaty and free.

On she flows, out to
Bothnia, round, squeezes through Denmark
Over to England, and into the Thames
The glorious dirty Thames,
and now we share the same sea
Salt released, restrained
We swim and swim.

Burning and building
Scything and sawing
Through the ink
toward, far, through, beyond
Back, round, up, down
And home
One day, I will be home
Swimming Swimming.

The Edge

To the edge, edge of exhaustion
Just. Keep. Pushing.
Toe, toe, toe,
GO, GO, GO.
Cold and wet, smog or sweat
Clammy skin, chill creeps in
water and salt, mineral me
Im caked in the very two things
I need to replenish my weary body.
And soul.
The fear begins.
Into the wild, foetal child
Crawl into a tent
And wait for morning
But still no water,
bricks and mortar
Country roads, take me home.
And then
Like a vision from the Gods
A Beautiful House,
Boasts an All You Can Eat Buffet.

day zero

A smile, and smiles returned
Land of the midnight sun
A lost spring, sprung
Over caffeination and re saltification
A wave of panic
and exultation of relief
Blending with the crowd and
A few caught in the eye.
Pink sky at night
Cannot win this fight
Against sleep
It is Still Light

hands/feet

i am a pair of hands
a pair of feet
i am something you see everyday
but never meet
i am polish
i am lithuanian
i am EUROPEAN
i am whatever
you want me to be
but never english
i really am
what you dont want to believe
i am
i am the cleaner
i am the sandwich lady
i am a poet
i will write that song
that you will love
and will always remind you
of that time
i am the hand that feeds you
i am the only smile
who will greet you everyday
i am polite
i am brave
and strong
i am a reminder
you would rather forget
i am the feet
you could still be
i am a sign of the times
i am a postman
i will deliver
i am a pat on the ass
i let you make a pass
i am the cleaner
i am the sandwich lady
i am a musician
i am an artist
i am nothing
i am everything

the new humans

seasons of bitter fruitlessness
of Wild Dogs and Urban Highwaymen
in Mitcham and Morden
the black ice is thawing
a new humanity is dawning
a nasient civilisation
begins it's steady march
into power

a most unlikely alliance
of Sandwich Ladies and Great Apes
clawing at the doors of tesco's
biting through to free the humans caged inside

Poles and Gibbons,
Intellectual Bunnies
bullets in the prams
of Yummy Mummies

the future is clear
total revolution is near
come join us comrades
we are the new humans

we look up, and wait

The Sky is Pregnant
threatening pockets of
silky streams
silent, deadly, dilating

we seek shelter where
there is none
our bodies find warmth
in each other
upside down inside out
all over we seek
solace
in the bottom
of a polystyrene cup
a milky concoction that
sears, scalds and then cools
rapidly, unnatural
like the hot towels
at the indian restaurant
defying the laws of physics

the cup overfloweth not
instead the edge is
crumbling under the weight
of expectation
ambition
the pixels that form the vessel
are spat upon the ground
with my teeth they fall
whoosh
whumph
silence

dead is the night
the day never came
we slithered through the streets
our velociferouswheels
not spinning but sliding
smoothly
over the sheen of ice
that coats our mordant world
we came
we sold
we were conquered

The Sky is Pregnant
and we look up
and wait

a smash up on the river

a filthy gust of wind so strong
it cast me upon the frozen ground
a buckled charge with wheels aspinning
whispered no whimper, no cry, no sound.

half a smile, three fifths a frown

slipping
swaying
and smashing
thro the
afternoon gloom
of our short life
a means to and end
the only way to mend
is to truly break
bash and bruise
to smithereens
squeeze an squash quash
those fears
reduced to tears
a towering man
mouse in his hand
by his side
a loyal friend
i am both these men
something and nothing
twisting and turning

inside out and upside down
half a smile, three fifths a frown

this tall and terrible you

THIS TOXIC DEADLY BLUE
wundercrunch
underfoot
not ice, not
glass
not gems, not grass
is ground to dust
to breathe a must
this toxic deadly blue
this tall and terrible you

unfinished seizure

the lover's lover friedrich sighs
as the whistling willow bows
his arterial strings dip in the mire
of this terrible tale we sew

eutrophicate our sceptred isle
a sulphurous stream of blue
a concrete shell still cracks a smile
where a cerulean monster grew.

somnambulant slurs

into the wild
abort the mild
the weaker willed
the meeker
somnambulant slurs
of jewels and furs
some legacy
what creatures

on dust we raise
our screaming cranes
our moat, our house
our fortress
come carve a trail
to our unholy grail
we'll find solace
in it's sweetness