indecision and doubt
dogs of creation
what god felt
keeps us living-

pray we never find out..
love can be dissapointing
a bad card dealt
devastation..

woke
opening eyes
we have epithany

when you left me
i realised but
only too late..

when you left me
i felt a weight lifted
care-free and gay
and yet devastated

studied but free
in the days drifted
by and away
but in the night

ate my heart and strayed..
when you left me..
your eyes and smile
all i could see..

so i would say
you missed that bit
out..

sometimes i just thought it
in the silence
they might

ask what my book was
about-tolstoy´s rendition of
the napolionic wars..

or  portrait of an artist as
a youngman- joyce..
(that is a favourite..)

conflict of different kinds
nobody had an idea
what was going on..

the human condition fraught
with misunderstanding and
omission..

ii

any good?
not much..
so where was i
a litany of pointless

violence..without
an ending
faith to blood
hell and small bird..

a)

solitude
woo
chet baker do
almost blue

alone or alien
too
teacher asked-
what are you

kind of red
that goes
ah..

b)

all they ever
wanted
was your heart

to stick little
pins-in and laugh
now is that too

much to ask
for free
of course..

ii

a)

sunday morning and
they even messed
with the time..

b)

what is wrong with
colour
i wish to be

a sunflower or a
bright vermillion
dragon

with a flickering grey
tongue
with eyes

as dead as the ages
one toe raised
and a tail quivering

like a nightmare
before and always
you..

iii

a)

dark lily?
´tis the season to be
the bloodied rose..!

b)

we never celebrated halloween
it came across the ocean..

the vicar said it was sick
we burned revolutionary catholics-

we built effegies
and begged pennies

the nieghbours said o
eff off now-

but ate our baked potatoes
we had fire works and fire so

rockets and catherine wheels
named after crucified martyrs

roman fountains and jumping jacks
and second degree burns

the sirens lit the rainy night
sparkelers bright wrote

we sang,remember, remember
the fifth of november

gunpowder, treason and plot..
and drank hot

soup and that,pyramids
can´t recall what they did..

b)

at school we learned
of guy fawks
who tried to blow up

the houses of parliment
but was grassed up
he was hung drawn and quartered

and his ashes scattered at
the crossroads
his head upon a spike

on westminster bridge
or something
how times change..

i

i was not rich or famous lily
but i experimented with lsd
not knowing-was i  alcoholic
was i depressed or just curious..

when i say experiment, i took
a tab and wanderered in the forest..
after tapping my foot in the bar
it was loose and cosmic

in the moon light or in danger
but mostly there was another way
something new an alternative
from grey there was colour..

ii

moderation was the key
usually a friday and saturday
and spontaneously..well,i don´t know..
what time is it..

i mention with interest
as  the psychedelic element
makes it´s laborious journey
into the medical  mainstream..

i

usual is my name
i say what is expected
before hands

eyes glaze and i stay
a drone in monotone
little do they know

my origins-just as
small a need to explain
loveless children

nod like plod
in trills of pain
some how far


in a fear
in spiked tears
to carry aload

to shrug and grin
in broken glass
a shruken punch line..

ii

nostalgia is not
a box of matches
lily laughs

more stone and
a moon
the toxic vista..

i

time is a pitza
round and cheesy-
a bubble of sound
(einstein say)

i like it simple-
some pimiento-
just for o
eternal

take away
the tomato..
life is onion
tears or happy..

ii

is time a pitza?
if you consider post-war
britain..

my mother was twenty-one
before she saw an orange
(one of those words

for which  nothing rhymes)
and she was aged before
she saw, mozzarella..


iii

we had fish and chips on a
saturday
dandillion and burdock pop

my father had tripe on a
saturday night
our car was green

i knew the engine..
we listened to the radio
just a minute was on..

i

like you know the way
like it stretches
like time

reds and brown
gold like heaven
-less  a pitza

more religious
experience
utopia..

ii

and then we are obese
so we watch tv
things are tedious..

then,we do stuff we´d
rather not-ah..
dystopia..

what is to be
hope-a stick of celery
and a dip..

i-i

i sometimes wonder what
we would do without conformity
or diversity..

take a fizzy drink
we will call horse´s ****-if
we did n´t all want it

then, it would not be..
same with love and belief..
caw!..lily pauses...

ii

some of you are probably
wondering what is she-
a notated anarchist..

revolutionary poet doing
opening a supermarket?
i need the money..lol..

but the way to change
is from with-in-and everyone
must eat-

iii

i do wonder what tennyson
would have made of it all
our consumer society..

there is something comforting
there is order
what is yours is yours

what is mine is mine
how else can it be
render unto caeser..

iv

in times of yore
nomadic man roamed here and
there..

(now we have asda
progress-can´t stop-)
we fought or effed and

then built a fence and
posession hopped
into our hearts like

an endless summer
and here we are..
of the future..

v

to conform or
grow your hair and
don flairs

a dab of patchouli
behind the ear
a flower in the hair-

am i me lsd
love an alien
have a nice time or

vi

the snack aisle..
the diverse
where i see

vision of the wild
the grass
a dying tree..

vii

at this moment i
stand with scissors
and see your expectant faces-

life is pure profit
or a bargain basement
or short changed

or hauled before the
man to beg and beseech
innocence..

not a word i use lightly
i leave you with this
supermarket..

viii

ginsburg followed walt
around-as he eyed
the pretty boys-

lonely old grubber!
and indeed who has
not fallen head over

trolly wheels-we met by
the meat counter..
romantic tales..

two way mirrors
surveillance and
*****..

look-30 percent off
a machine and well
kept bathrooms..

i

but on the positive
there is belief-
more of interest-

soon to be proved or disproved..
last word..?
o what a world!?

and into the void!
no more pain and no
more me..

ii

no more mornings
and little birds singing
coffee and eggs

no more silence
no wondering what comes
next

no more the tedious washing
up or off to the office
no more music..

iii

or writing..
no more nonsense
indeed-

no more senses
where o where will
they be..

are we afeared
****,we have lived
well..a tree..

try again
you want to share what´s
mine..

how about,
if we share
what´s yourn..

we share our pain
some are good at coping
others not..

i

every time i write i wonder why, (examing
her arm pit
running through the mine pit
like a canary

momentarily ahead with the noxious
fumes gaining..)
if it were love
or money..

ii

god must have wondered too
(that would no doubt be
blasphmy in less enlightened times..
they would have tortured me)

but when he made me and you
the gift of creativity
remains-(and burnt me like
an old tree..)

iii

so,(see how far we have come)
so,we have freedom
(to be used responsibilly)
(neither love nor money)

and who is to say-what will
be..
just to say one thing! that may
be of passing interest to someone..

iv

that is the question
why bother-i distrust our
motive-it´s brevity
is too short

it´s length too long
just say what you mean
and let us leave it at that
beauty?

love and money
again..
inexstrictable pain
and monotony..

which is better than me,
or the same somehow
as you-i won´t say
me..

lily lilts away..
what gives me the right?
you won´t or don´t hear me?
i could give a ****..

i love poetry!
not some ego fight
i do it for the money
and a smile..

to bust up some
moment
slugger!
heil ******..

i thought you might read a
poem-i having nothin
new-given up hoping
i put out my heart

for the love of it but-
but devoured by thankless-
more or less they cried
say hard..

so. we have silence which
is much better
in the flickety-flower
i hear (god etc)...

i

good evening ladies
and one gentleman!-
(caw..)
be careful what we

wish for, it may come
true..when young i
thought to be a millionaire
by thirty-

(the details were sketchy..)
and then through tolstoy
and the ragged trousered philantropist
was more interest..

and to the desert and the
eternal blue skies
love to discovery
i see in your faces

ii

something of the same
or the wisdom of nothing or
the world, chico, and everything in
it..

and if should be-a  faustian
reality
or the best for our children
what then..

do we cry-break out the
rocket launcher or
a biscuit and a cup of tea
and say, i thought so..

iii

man above everything is durable..
and, of course ,what we want most
of all-
is belief..

and this may unite us
(as it might divide-)
and where or how do
we aquire such?

argus..
temple or church
your eyes and heart
an atom in a trillion parts..

and if we knew
our reason
our existance
what then..

iv

if alien were to land and
explain everything-life and
death..
what then..

can´t put the ketchup
back in the bottle..
once pandora´s box is open
when we said don´t know..

v

be careful for what we
wish-fame-
most illogical
most regretable-

you don´t own me-
cored..
rejoice in the unknown
the nameless..

i thought it would be
something else
freedom but more like
a prison or platitude

or an endless donkey
no tail
a cliche..
you don´t know me..

vi

lily is begining to
babble
but ending on high-
when buk said don´t try

he was not whistling dixie--
hey thank you for having me
and may the bird in your hear
never want..t

what do they want from her?
(she wants to know)
her love-her underware-
fame´s crow-

i thought it would be
all different somehow
i don´t know..
an enlightenment

a star´s shadow-
but soon become a
barred window..
-a villa up the river..

ii

and then there is power
every move a micro  scope
but the big picture
fun for a monster

that´s the dope-
do you know what i pay
my lawyer?
you could feed africa..

iii

i want to give it all away!
some plastic surgeon
(look like a gudgeon-)
go beg..

dissilussion(x2)..!and
what ABOUT her
new slim volume and
her address at the woman´s

institute on friday..
she would n´t like to
disappoint them..
'careful what we wish for...'

i

she has a stalker?
i don´t know when does
romantic interest become

alighting a passing tree
cawing and writing love
epistles..

for a court to decide?
we live in a litigious society-
half the world is mad

and wants to be called mad
so they can sue..
what to do..

ii

words lily-life
or death
simple or not..

the first put to the sword
and replace by the
same again..

i

what are we?
(that is what she wants
to know..)

identity,is the crisis,
can´t you see?
-we are the past

and future..
don´t cry,lily,
(all crimes are paid..)

are you afraid?
-dying is hard
when the sun shines

and the birds sing
happily in
the trees..

ii

there is the major
and minor
the micro and
hows your father..

eat the hamburger
and take care of each other
o officer dibble-
mandible..

iii

she is spaced as cake
(no time for hate)
running around in her
docs alone..

a knock upon the door
stops her dead
who is there
fear unkown..

i


the dreaded white!
cold as gold
bold as betrayal
miserable ..!

expectant and silent
nowwhat..?
some miserable diatribe
on unrequited love?

how much better is
pea-*******..
the cat poe
who knows..?

ii

the life of the poet
(take off the t)
if a women lies naked
at your feet..

if the rain and wind
break your heart
if a song is only part-
a wart..

the witch and her
proboscis-the mosh pit,
o try to forget!
the way she´d hold her

pint..glance back at the dew
on the spider´s web
o the way.. the way..
the way young lover´s do..

iii

if i played a tune
perhaps i might sleep
but i am musical as
an incontinent sheep-

the way she sung in
the bath..identity, is the crisis
can´t you see-
little things like sledgehammers..

iv

she turns a page-
wolfe like a memory
or dream
paris and monmarte

generosity..
fun all the rage..
hey,what are we
that´s what i want to know..

i
i wish i could write
like the little bird
that hovers in my face
between wire
and glass..

i

´do scientists´ have feelings
fish still have no idea-!'
can´t see where you´re going
with this one

lily says, it is the continuing saga
of man´s suppossed
superiorty and his inabillity
to ask pertinent questions-

let´s assume they do-will we stop
doing all the awful things
we do to them..?
chemical weapons etc..

ii

it read-do fish have feelings?
scientists are getting closer..etc
they attach electrodes-
can you feel that..

how do you feel about pollution?
what do think,harris over trump?
will you flourish long after we
have destroyed ourselves..?

iii

(your glib attitude wins you
no friends)-hey,i am only a
fish..a fish in a bowl..
all alone...

a small circle what i
want in mind
not much future and
a ****-trail behind..

iv

in search of treasure
and happy times
back to the fore
shiny bubbles..

what was or were
just demented dreams
to the very core
deprogrammed fish..

i

between a lion and a camel
i woke in the night
with the roar of the jungle
(i set off for italy but..)

they were my role model
(i mean small cage rights)
freedom can be hell
they said, alright-

you know the knell-
time´s a sweet blight
clowns and artists fell
from the earth height

to only a cheap sell-
the audiance tight
arrived one two well!
all together,right..

i

what were you doing between
a lion and a camel
just passing time
i had set off for italy..

i worked for some irish
on the black stuff-swinging a
pick..and then i went to
berlin..

ii

thirty years ago lily
where has the time gone
i feel like a different person
soon be ninety..

i feel younger now
then when i was twenty though
then i was all pain
and disdain..

we like to laugh
though it is indescribably
sad..

you don´t see the joke?
me..?
that´s it!

ii

at a boot sale i got
a little book of laughter
on the cover

a group of pentioners play
a game of stretch over assorted
colour-

one man cries cheat
as a woman uses her *******
as they reach the floor.

iii

humour differentiates us
from fauna
so they say..

on the whole, i´d rather
be-a bat or a giraffe
or a lion..

iv

one time lily
i was between a lion and
a camel..

i got to know them
quite well
surprising enough

they were quite happy
they seem to say
how awful it was in the jungle..

i))

a delayed write about a
monster-how often have you heard
it-?
we create our own monsters..

like we dig up graves by night
and by day fit
ill-assorted brains into
huge bodies...!?

but there is the lonely laughter
there is a corner
a brother,a sister
a mother, a father

my friend igor..
a creator
a destroyer
an idea

a notion
an obsession
complexion-
a god likened

ii

and around the mountain
come the locals
torches and cries..!-

once we have done
never to be undone!
rises the sun..

ketchup as in the
blood
some mojo sealed
impossible and red

from a negative to a
could-
more felt
less angst-be

possibly..
i mean if i tried
god would love me..
why not

from tepid to hot
from to too
from two
to trot

so donne my wings
and cloud
be proud-
be a part

have a heart
swoon above
find some sort of
love..