Wednesday, 30 August 2017

L

writers block 
she's telling tales
in her own way
this morning 
sucking my cock
that sweet smile 
bitter coffee 
the mountains above 
frightful cyclists below
a glance between the seats 
the tongues of other life forms
strong scent emanating
Scotland on his airm
another stop 
the Black Bitch 
apple cores
unsettled scores
trips to Vegas
winning big 
through these streets 
down the steps 
like many before 
silentdisco dancing  
coffee man missing
the mark 
stilted conversation 
praised food stuffs 
100 pounds in 100 seconds 
just keep                                                                 holding on 
tickets for tomorrow 
no refunds
please
animal charities
no
thank you 
it was how much? 
time to think
while we wait
John Carpenter and
Devotchka  
a good show
squeeze her hand
part the crowd
explosions above the castle  
shameful masses
take a seat 
yet darkened now  
the sun still beats 
the heart still beats
the beat of the drum 
finger in the bum!

Wednesday, 19 April 2017

L

big blue sun
beating it's meat
down on our heads,
battering the tops
and slowly killing the
inhabitants
as it jumps back up
in their faces

short time sculpture,
growing grass between
toes -
admiring the obscenity
all the while taking advantage
of those too
rich to notice
and too bloody
important to
care

Monday, 13 February 2017

L


imagine if there was no more time
you could live a life of freedom
like a silver pool to dive in and out of,
a mountain top screaming,
lovers forever in passion
and all the events an audience
and you'd not move a muscle,
no un-opulent moments,
never a hideous chasm torn up
only delicate bridges and
flowing sounds of a heaven. maybe
could save you
yet, despite this      
its amazing how a life
can amount to something
like nothing