Over the snow caps
antlers below
I see
moose on the go.

A light aircraft in shafts of sunlight
musk on the morning breeze.

These are the signatures of wilderness
less than is more than at times

and there are times of freedom,
of *******,
I think that we need them
to
balance things out.

We are picking through the
roots of flowers we have left
to die. Imagining there is
something we can salvage
from the chemical soaked
soil. But we are no experts,
and we cannot tell the
difference between a **** and
a stem. We are blind, hungry
children. Rummaging
through the grains of moon -
rocks that fell to Earth. As
they say that stars can only
shine in darkness, and that
planets steal the oxygen
from human lungs, but -
I am sure we will be able to
breathe somewhere. That
we will find a sparse,
unpopulated land with clear
air that heals, that spreads
through our bodies and sings
that we are home

Hi **
Hi **
It's off to work why go?
Just sit and sun and have some fun
Why go hi ** why go.

Speak as you find
I don't mind if I do.
as unique is to me
so unique is to you.

we are all leaves from the one tree, each leaf being different from another and occasionally, seasonally,
cyclically falling to found a new dynasty,  the same you and me in a different tree, the one tree.

But it's only pie and mash when you ain't got any cash and we should be reading Dickens or poems by Frederick Ogden Nash,
but we've got beans on crusty bread instead and Private Eye beside the bed because we like to think that we're all spies.

eyes down for the full house, the flop house it's never the mansion house is it?


Hi blasted **
I'm going to have a go
but don't know when

have you ever wondered why
men
are like that?

She carried her burden of woe
like the weekend shop,
never stopped her from whistling a tune and
not many women do that nowadays.

in the old days when Auntie Emm was not so old
and bolder than she was later
she had what you'd call today, Swagga,
she'd wag her finger and say,
'follow me, I'm not the pied piper but
I'll do for a start'

Uncle Tony who worked in the shipyards and
did other things to bring the money home
was grey haired
although it may have been jet black
back when Emm was younger.

Hunger they knew and few didn't up on
Tyneside,
but they had neighbours, good friends
and a radar system that could trawl a wreck on the shore before Her Majesty's customs even heard of it.

A moment in time and a peek at the place where a part of my family where points out in space.

There are more memories than pebbles on a beach
just reach in and touch them

In the two up, two down with a tin tub to
bathe in, a cellar to put coal in,
a kitchen and pantry
can't you
be happy?

If his Lordship willed it we'd all live in pigshit,
that's Nobility for you

but
I work in the grounds of the great hall as a groom
for
sixpence a week and a small garrett room
and don't feel hard done by,

still a prison though.

I'll die in service but will need to give
a week's notice
such a shame you can't put a
poultice
on death.

It was the full English breakfast with extras that did it,
Wetherspoons got rid of the evidence, but my gluttony hung like a tyre around my waist,
at last I was sated but I still wondered why I hadn't ordered some potatoes with a hot shepherds pie.

Holidays become me
and the blimp in my tummy
reminds me to go on a diet.

But it's back to earth with a bump
as I jump out of my bed
and instead of the beach
it is work
I must reach before nine.

You can always skip the adverts
better to be converts to reality

I deal in the facts
I do not sell
fantasy

come to me and see
the brutality of
mass media

cruising like
an oedema
black and bruised


we and only we
stand accused,
we become the abused
and get used to being so

track me on the back streets
in the bedsheets
watch me whiten
lighten
in the bio

watch them as they know you will,
still
it beats the hell out of education
init?

Impulse beats
Up, down
Hello. Greet.
Hands do what they do
What they need.
Heed greed far too often

Have I had good times?
A few
Have I made any good rhymes?
Maybe two
Do I believe in signs?
As long as you do

Where did you go
Lines I recognize
Not as my own
How did I become this thing?
This white, solemn bone
Only wanting you to sing
Clearly
Through the haze
Through the black
And the white
There would never be darkness
Without the light.