like reading thomas love peacock
(worth googling)
don’t understand all the words
but that isn’t a reason to stop

see my poems as
just notes on the poems
I would like
to write but don’t

why should I care, it’s not
as though I know you, I don’t
know what you’re like, for instance,
how you wear your hair, why you’re here, I don’t know
anything about you; I merely hope
you’re alright

london borough of greenwich,
there was a second hand
book shop, not that I
suppose it’s there anymore than I am
hoping
the books found a good home

asked where I’d got those
bruises on my face
I said my face

you’re making it up
beatrice cried
and dante said
yeah, well this stuff
don’t write itself   ..

I’d willingly take you
into my confidence
if I had any

things seldom
occur the way
one expects too much,
of course

easy to be amusing
that you think so
whilst I struggle in my head
with every ****** word

only writing because
like bukowski said
only if you have to
will it be any good

p g wodehouse and
john betjeman made
life seem worth living
just to read them    ..

she said you’re a
bit of a cold fish
I said which bit  ..

and the city
like an older
lover
gives one oh, so much
more
to discover     ..

you get that little puff
of air
as the tube train doors
open

it’s no wonder they
gasp
those ghosts who drag open
the doors

we are
not what
we were
we ever?

have you ever met louis macniece
in his birmingham
dare say you might well have missed him of course
there is so much going on      ..

to the house where samuel johnson
had lived, near the inns of court; leave your
bags down here if you’re going upstairs,
snapped the woman behind the
counter yeah, he’d have loved you       ..

love museums full of stone age
artefacts, the odd roman sandal or two
and victorian pottery, and all
those insects skewered beneath glass cases
not solved by pulling faces
at what our ancestors got up to

want to tell the world your truth?
truth doesn’t belong to anyone
it’s about facts
how you feel is something else

but if nigel farage is a
national treasure I
think we should bury him

met my wife at work
said you forgot your sandwiches  ..

lived in lewisham for a while
it was alright  
but then she grew bored and I grew
bored with her growing bored
and staying out all night
and south east london ain’t the end of the
world

don’t get me wrong
I like trains;
it’s just getting on

when she came to his flat
he said shyly
you’re the first

touched she said that’s nothing to
be embarrassed about

he quickly added
the others will be along
shortly

apparently the geese in russia
are bigger than the pyramids in egypt
now that’s proper gander

she says last night was a bad
    idea
well in that case thank goodness
   it’s over
he says
    and yet, she says, you’re still here      ..

you were crying and shaking as you tried
to explain you’d spent the night
with somebody else
well, as long as he makes you happy    ..

watching you pull up
your tights as I
lie beneath the quilt in the half
light of the morning

old bloke in the pub says
buy me a pint and I’ll be grateful
for ever mate, neither of us
have got that long       ..

what do I want played
at my funeral?
charades

sand inside
my clothes
but oh
your hands    ..

the upstairs window
looks out across the city
a figure peers back    ..

city at night is like myself
as a child
afraid to turn off
the lights

got a kebab on the way home
could tell it was on the way home
it looked knackered

no one believes in objectivity
anymore
but that’s the thing is
the facts

suggested a picnic
she said good idea
I’ll make the sandwiches
I said no, let them
decide for themselves

oswald mosley. nigel,
remember what happened
to him?

try writing about something
other than yourself
who actually cares?

caught a fish in the pond
although it later transpired
it had every right to be there

sitting in a pub writing
a poem but it
wasn’t very good and the
beer was awful

she said
you must hate me
I said
you can’t make me      ..

love to walk alone
through the city
streets are not just for grown
ups a daisy!

she used to complain
that she never knew
what he was thinking

he said I hear what
you’re saying, but isn’t
that rather the point?

he bought
her a ring

but she
didn’t

that you keep on giving me
your opinion suggests you don’t want
it, either

the Charing Cross
Road

a raid
arrayed

around
abound

a bound
first edition

in quite good
condition

considering
his age        ..

a man of letters
who pens
upon
trivial matters in convivial inns
where his life is spent
almost invariably
in tatters       ..

you either see migrants as a
problem, or you don’t
depends where you’re coming from,
I guess

he said I don’t know why
I ever went out with you ..
she said but you didn’t go out
with me, we just happened
to leave at the same time  ..

greedy foreigners keep coming
over here, apparently, whilst
millionaire entrepreneurs are moving abroad
because of taxes, I mean, really   ..