i will not eat your fruit, barrow lady,
you must be Eves daughter !
and you must be Adams son  !
she said with a scornful glare
the softest fruit are the devils tastiest

We grew bulbs on the windowsill
Having tasted our marshmallows
and respected our teachers
Like kestrels we waited eagerly to learn
And wore white poppy's the whole of November
We were never defiant
Always standing to attention
Spelling hard words made easy

Gray birds grace us
Tallow was the sky
The sterility of the day
like an ox fat sacrifice
will save the world from sin
and all this obsession to save the heart
The gift of an incandescent rage
born out of the preciousness of redemption

Daisy chains and sheltered coves
Gaze into the turquoise landscape
Coldstreams on the island
Where have you been?
Let us talk of the past
Reinvoke the present
And remember that's how strong my love is
Filed under found

the bracken fields
fill with rainwater
the submerged cartwheel rots
as kale sways
in the outlier fields

After the languid storm
cold against the grass
winter beeches thrive
as the flotsam swirls by
the Riverside
fills their proverbial prose

It's just like a teacher
to suggest 1/125
for street photography
to freeze action
turn people into statutes
Shadows F2
Sky F11
he turned my camera into a light  meter
picking up the prevailing lumiere levels

Whereas I had always used F5.6
to record fleurs
A slight customary bokeh
throwing the background
and generally, 1/60 to stabilize action

Aliens dressed as Americans
eating Wigwams for thanksgiving
and celebrating General  Custer
with their custard

We used to have buttermilk
and Austrian white wine
from Safeways
and used to buy 2nd hand Prog records from Beanos
or see Budgie at the greyhound
The years have sped by
and I'm not recalling any standout shop now
Unless you include the durable Buddist shop
next to the once Hockneys
Toothless gaps in the town square appear
The Whitgift Centre is half empty
Samsung Mobile shop is closed
The years have not been very Kind
The sound of laughter is removed

Come hither
Autumn folly
Lost foible sensations
Return my fate
as I once knew.
I can get no rest
Bring my life back to me!
cause I need a friend.

Brick by Brick
they are taking apart the town,
in their own image
Effortlessly
actioning and conspiring
every speck of green
is their hallowed ground
to lay down the foundations.

Come to Croydon
It's like a ship going down
Some have found their new Nova
a cash cow made of stone

Sadness finite like drizzled rain
longing, banished by a spanish guitar
esperer too distant a word .

Eyes interlocked,
like a M1 car crash
this is the effect you have on me.
Your hips are perfect like a
manquerin,
your moustache like a cad,
but any bad boy behaviour
could lead to a discipline.

Plastic puddles pervade.
Even through the looking glass,
Hearts of darkness.
Trees of madness set me free.

As the calvary of life raises.
Through the climbers rise of parody,
ballast hope,
Realisation of what you did to me.

The Tories  have devalued civility
Even the Met Police cannot escape this calamity
Admonishing channel refugees,
as if they were part of this disorder,
to be rudely awakened on an outbound trip to Rwanda
The aftermouth of Brexit seems to be a byword for a lack of humanity.

Rampant gangs in London.
****** mile in Croydon.
Social Service cuts are unwarranted.
The voluntary sector is the only thing plausible,
to pick up the pieces
when the social fabric
is so wantonly tight

I want you to see the envy in my eyes
Let us go to the hotels of the night
Everything is a hidden rosette
Heaven is a paragraph
Take me to your leader
And then I will transcribe,
unraveling the hotel's lights

come and enjoin in the procession
bear your gifts
and recite with wind chimes
See  the warring parties
scatter roses, inscribe love
youth against the beatniks ,
and lavish at our psychedelic suggestion.

the war sky turns red
its time for cranking up
this disappearing act again

First and last,
don't push me around.
I may have lost my skint.
Caught taking aripiprazole.
My miracles of dimension in recess.
I waved goodbye to all that,
taking my logic for a ride.

All hail the hearty King.
A tyrant in the making.
A wisp of smoke
all driving small.

I espied a monster
and by the bay of the tree, it was me.
Venoms skin, like a delicate leaf
laughed and shook my hand.

A glisten of silver birch
watch your fortune so
like well wished for rice cakes

The Sunrise, son of Jupiter
wordwise, all over the place
with all the beautiful things you are
Is this the love you have bought?
from bow to stern
you reap what you sow

The clown stares at me
he thinks he recognizes me
like our blood coalugates.
I dont have a war face
or hide between shadows
I am fully suited by choice
no psychosis to test.

You are the silted canal,
whose willows have wilted in the quench.
I am the gregarious go getter.
You are the conservative burdened
by change.
I am the railway speculator
you are the bankrupt canal owner .

never let a memory be shed,
or a teardrop be tattooed on your face
bright things comes to those that wait.

outside wild children play in the woods
the lonely girl washes in blue light,
when she is gone
there is much bewilderment,
she offered so much hope in the allurement .

The sea unrolls on itself
by the gaze of a seagull
its mechanical eye
creates ceaseless shutters
mingling with the sound of the waves

The acolyte knew of Isis's reign
He followed the course of the Nile,
chased the shadow of the desert  
made thirst of secrets
he kept as Afro light.

Cynical Town,
knocking houses down
to be made in flats,
except when there's a colony
of crested newts.

A thwarted town regeneration,
tombstones of empty shops.
Voting on the 5th May
for a consensual mayor
Goodbye Labour,
you have unnerved Croydon.

He is the faker.
Living by the river.
Cardboard eyes holding your attention.
He has no intention of goodness,
synthetically adorned,
living a lie just by blinking.

Nettles covers his body,
crawls on the ground like a newt,
walks in the greenhouse,
makes for penitence,
always thought he was better than thou.

Your friends decried your darkness
was it just their shadow schemes
that somehow peered  beyond their call

im in heaven
with my black bread and chichory coffee.
All i need are monkey nuts
it takes a man to know his worth.

A country alleyway  for Jennifer
growing buds for spring
and sights of field mice

Enshrined in her smile
dwells an obedient soul
An expected turn
affable and confirmed
surrendering
her mysteries

Once a stray
Now comfy at home
Not a mean bone in his body
You're like porridge with prunes
Indispensable to the body regime
Cool and collected
With an underlined intelligence
I'd happily adopt you myself

where are our heroes?
their bland bleatings we suffer,
this static turn
on Albion street.
Their illicit Lockdown Party's
burn an incense
in our souls,
our gallant sacrifice thwarted.
This luster flathead etched,
upon hoardes of Townies and ruralites memories

nows the time for askance
asking her in good time
understanding the wherewithal

searching in my mind
thoughts swarm like flies
a distant banjo plays

Through the curtain of time
you disappoint me
Love is a cold bitter word
suddenly it turns its own pallor
I don't need the promises you made
yet time it obsessives my heart
Cant you see I'm miserable and blue
Please leave me
I may come home
but can't say when

Chocolate soldiers guard their quarry
Gunners chase their missive
peasants rejoice at the skinless drummer
The grateful dead count their symbols
as Mr Evasion turns to the light the looking glass looks jaded now

Grand Daughter of SDP members
hoisting their own red-letter day
with today's Innere language
Writing in English
they grant empathy
to their penfriends abroad
a long way from Heimat

Practice renders perfection
Writing as a seasoned second language scriber
kindly sharing view's
from Frankfurt am Main

The blazing summer gardens
makes him homesick for London.
Pure yellow daffodils, candescent poppies, sunflowers.
Flowers are essential.
They never have rage or conflict.
They are instinctive.
The National Garden Scheme,
offering carrot cake and coffee
for the followers.

who knows if a smile is really a frawn?
and if a zebra is a striped donkey instead?
who knows of white lies!
and the harm they do,
like a cuss  before the mornings
prayer!

I  just  had  to grow up fast
you were my first girlfriend.
You've turned into a female stranger.
With your wild parties
and church of unforgiveness.
Your ruby lips are for someone else.
and I can't hold your face next to mine.
You're  a big Mamma now,
who can't hold a candle for me.

I with my earnest guitar.
I never slept with you,
but must have made love a 1000 times.
We're young and had no place to go
You gathered flowers,
but could not cry for me

Penelope Tree lived in a house
with servants by the score.
She was already the "it" girl at 16
with luxuriant eyebrows,
for someone like David
who saw her as forbidden fruit.
He made her feel kooky cool
but with the event of teenage acne coming back,
he de- mused her from his company
and now shes zenning her demise
in some fashionable pied a terre

It's difficult being someone
It's hard sleeping
and understanding your dreams
Once I was a contender
presiding over an imaginary foe
I will smile when I find someone
it's almost time I kissed you

You're a southern guy
you've got a heart of gold
and all you got from me
was a tapered window
to espy
Lets try and see the day as a myriad creation

You could afford a pink bathroom
But had a freyed t- shirt
You sapped bitter
And had manacial 1970s whiskers
But I'm interested in your mind
I am quite listenable
I want to taste your Thunderberg wine
And deserve to be sanquinely addressed by you.

The  blueish pond recedes
in the dark shade of the trees
A swan lies dying
A solitary bird mourns alone

i am the raging truth
I've been ruthless for eternity .
i am father to a 1000 children
but  begot 100000 more,
what of all your dignity?
now washed on the shore,
i only safe unbelieving sailors
who one day lay in un- lamented  graves,
that i sanctify as my own

Land and rock slides
are the order of the day
They point to twilight world
Like a speechless old woman
With pitable likeness to a witch
And when she froze
She had flown for five miles
on a broom handle
A little lose on the left bends
Disliked like the anonymous sea

In April somewhere where
sunbeams and Carousels glisten.
He was happy to share in the clover.
The sun was pouring
by way of a morning breeze,
and his plate was full
belly up he floated,
in the shallow water,
where the moon wanders.
His dreams lay sheltered,
against the cove
in the body of another.

High in the sky.
London chimes.
Postcode lottery
Knife crime assures.
Still the Eagle soars,
over Streets with no names
Combustible cladding awaiting.

Hose pipe bans beckons.
A capricious late summer.
Rosemary twigs for sale.
See the gypsies staid,
against the Victoria tube exit.

I spoke to the trees,
but the lectern  would not listen.
I got up in the dark
and the sky tussled with the weeds,
who wrote a poem for me
and with open arms
I applauded it.

I went off together,
through the trees
gained in insight,
and invited them to hear,
to the serenade,
yet being alone,
from dream to dream

Pale Sons move in  electric light
Their yellow hair brittle like straw
Contemptuous of time and place
Such an unceasing guise