i

o crow
you are a sweet-heart so
when i come across a dead bird

on the pavement
i have a broken heart
it has gone but to pardise..

meanwhile we have become
hustlers-a pitza or a book of poems
by crow called tomorrow..

but fall with love-to die
in love..perhaps a cat..
a suitable epithat-

ii

just like that..

thankyou for your honesty
sleeping on a crust and
aa is not for me, i need money..

i would sell my poetry
but they are so effing cheap
probably waiting for me to die..

which might not be far off
feathers and feet
in a neat little pile

my eyes open in a final vinelle
goodbye cruel world
with love i fell..

atmosphere
i burned my ******* finger
did nt look any better
on paper..
but no crow,
you´re not getting any money..

a dim epicurean
fat and lazy..
(you will only want more)
no longer my window but
a closed door-
a vista innocent but a blank cheque..
not hope but to let..

yes,you will soon cease to be real
you won´t know how you feel
hello,my name is crow..
a nameless jackdaw
with plenty but no soul
25 and old..
i was once a diamond..

lily ***** up-your face
i want money to waste
howl at the dogs, go!
called tomorrow..

all the days
flittered away
i will buy that though
i don´t want it
call it tomorrow..

yeah..what is now
i don´t know-yesterday was
poo-could n´t give it away
i want money
call tomorrow..

what for-big house
new car cruise-
nothing to lose
plenty to lose o
you and i we know..

she scratches an itch
and says man must have chaos with-
in
to give birth to a dancing star-
(thursday is a day for nietzsche..)

creation is the residue of war
between passion and reason
so you can call names and point

a finger or create a masterpiece
all depending..someone at the door..!
disembodied voices:

god is in your heart
technology and nuclear war..
keep your family safe..

lily counters with did you know
a shark has the same intelligence
as a rabbit-why..?

what to say-she invites them
for a cup of tea but they are
to press on..

she returns with man petting
lions and another poem from crow
called tomorrow..

i did nt like mykonos
i knew the islands or some
and this was my least favourite

it was a police state with windmills
flamboyant gays
back in the eighties there was paradise

and superparadise beaches..
like living in a wind-tunnel
woken by police dogs and my bags

stolen-not like anyone cared for the
merchandise waste of time..
i liked crete..

and so we turned to television
blue peter followed by the news
and the war in vietnam..was on..
nothing new..

atrocity..followed by the weather..
dixon of dock green where the bad man
was brought to justice..we had faith in
the policeman..

i had no possessions apart from a bike
and a bell-no telephone or lap-top..
there were fields to play, like
we sold apples door to door, so..