i wish i were antonio o!
winding the hills so
into and out quilted to
the excited children know

the distant three wheel echo
of imagination -blue and yello
pop ups and quietly through
the sun rising finger drew

across a blinding line anew
a love to page them do
and don´t..lo!
antonio!

in his biblio!
run promises blow
like a wizard´s brew
come all to know..!

i woke to
tomorrow
sorrow´s

little joke
ok
pray..

i woke up in heaven
but fell asleep in hell..
during the meanwhile
my dreams cast a spell..

in your heart was woven
impossible to tell
love as an ancient
coin in a wishing well..

but you had gone!
leaving a tiny bell
that like your smile
began to swell..

in the morning called
a cacophonous knell
that you returned
a sweet kiss to  tell..

ii


i would humbly
ask a favour
if you would be
kind to my mother
i will be eternally
thankful..

i would not have died at 28
though many times i should
there, only felt twice enough
and now being me at 58..

i am on the whole a gladly
person who eventually loved
came to find some odd stuff
and disobeyed future history..

yes,now i think myself lucky
where as previous mad and sad
and time is a little lad
in my heart grows and he say..

i would write a testament to my uncle ron
who only allowed to play the guitar upon
the toilet then

rendered forth with frankie and johhny

a song i love to play
got his revenge by leaving the
door open


i remember going to school
with satchel over my shoulder
stumbling by the door

a tyrant his wife aunt mary


a classical pianist
though a lovely lady
class..

i grabbed some breakfast
uncle ron came downstairs
in his silken dressing gown

and burning the cheroot!

and headed for the bar..

i love that song..

i write my poem,
you write yourn,
you say where,
ill say when!

we have seen!
we have been!
gives a monkeys?!
not you or i..

i

i wrote myself a note yesterday
i have never wrote myself a note actually
that is a lie
it said..

it is ok to lie to others
but not to one´s self..
(and watch them for they
are a bunch of no-goods..!)

this proved excellent advise
which i never gave to anyone
(let alone myself)
and put it on the fridge..

one would soon become confused..
two we had no fridge
three one lie leads to two
and so on..

soon enough-
bad things might occur
not known the difference
between fact and fiction..

ii

i have a job telling truths
it is our job
(not bob)
but when they accrue

back to notes and lies
like i love you
do you love me
i do..

i hate you
i hate you too
(one on
the fridge door..)?

iii

i have lived nearly
all my adult life without
a fridge
well that is a lie-

but there were vast swaths
of time spent
fridge-less
as one gets older

it is hard to say what
the truth was
the lies
the notes..

ix)

the mountain had
opened
and swallowed

them all
and closed
and they were

seen never
again
only

the blind
deaf
and lame

remained..
hamelyn
a synonym

for treachery
and deceit
fell asleep

to dream
and in their
dreams

their children
stood
in supplication

a mute question
in their sadness
and betrayal..

and what became of
the pied piper
and jess..?

there were
rumour
and unsubstantiated

sightings
here and there
the hamlet bridg

held it´s tongue..
love will find
a way

peter married hilda
hooney
mooned

in ibiza and
lived happy
for ever..

joe,you said why
i did nt write a poem about
you

i know that´s not to
say i should but it
is sunday

and i am making falafel
and listening to hawkwind
and i am a bit ******

so here goes..i won´t post it
cause she is the jealous type..
that night in your cardboard box

was nearly the death of me
it began,with you trying to burn
a hole in my cardigan..i held your arm..

and we said hello..we went back to yours
a shanty around the factory
in your cardboard box we had *** and

in the silence laughed and it was cold..
though ok..i nearly died..
it was so cold..

i

just a liitle reminder
there is a bottle of cola
in the freezer..

ii

i have a translucent
ellipitical ball
small
it is what i want..

(excuse my oxymoron
y´ all..)
your heart is not
round..lol..

neither is it small
and i do not stick
pins into it
that would be futile

you do that..
though it is wax
and it is sweet
and knowing
but unknown..

i carress it gently
and keep it safe
sometimes happy
sometimes a stone..

at night before sleep
i tenderely give a kiss
and tap again my teeth
say your name

and fall to dreams
encapsulated
warm and smooth
love´ s silken ways..

to smooth oblivion
when held by your
hand in mine
we walk alone..

when  then summoned to court
to explain some line you writ/wrote
on pain of death or far worse..

would you exhort the moon´s long
travail
(thro' the bars of your heart..to)

curse the rising sun with hopeless
and bitter song..or
see her as just as beautiful

in voice like angel
her love last star
the close well worth

bless the dew
the sweet sparrow
the blue earth

place your pretty
hat
smile
and venture a poet..

last year in the uk
a million millionaires
were created
not very poetic but
an interesting statistic
is it true?
i don´t know
but it cast my mind
back
to when i was a curious
child and a book
entitled something like
odd facts and did you know
that it would take
so many weeks to
count a million
and then i thought of
the moon and how far away
and then if one stacked a million coins
the base would melt
and then i thought in a
bit of a mood swing but quite
characteristic
i wonder how many suicides
there were..

let it be
(old friend)
it is
from me

back to you
as
a steep incline
climbing

all the way
and we
shall
see..

let it be
(or not)
we will
see

a way
a steep
incline
that
climbs

as it is-
an old friend
said
from beginning
to very end..

let it be
as it is
an old
friend
said
to me..

on the way
all
along- a
steep
incline
to climb

all the way..

letter from spain
i know that you two
have all elation!?
i hope your not
hitting your
head too much
i do
i catch my toe
in my music stand
and yesterday i lost
my glasses
it is good policy
to stay put
bathing is quite
interesting
cockroaches are
becoming abundant
spelling is patchy
i curse days
of excess
thankfully
i cant remember
now i like
moderation
sweet sense
sweet mary jane
on occasion
a cup of tetleys
and love song
bide like the
andalucian
the dear little swallow
circle the agave
the butterflies ******>numerous
no pollution
o the sparrows
the cacti are red
diamond shines
forth
i wake at sparrow
****
with a galloping
heart
soul seekers
feed everyone
i tried a new coffee to
day
i read either
whiskey galore or
the fall of the house
of usher
i keep a poetry
diary
a fine short story
writer john mcgahern
collected stories
and in a napolean
coste state of being
stare at the sea..

i

let´ s be birds
repulsive creatures
though they saved
my bacon i
on a few
occasions

when in the jungle
when there is silence
lily is jane
i liked hairy women..parenthesis..
i found their gossamed armpits
a delight
fine as a bird´ s underbelly
ah yes birds
prophosize the future
so when you hear their
happy little voices in the
morning

ii

excuse me i am trying
not to go into shock
i was bitten by something
my hand is bright red
and pained tingling
runs amok..
in the jungle
there are so many death..parenthesis

iii

a few years i was bitten
by a snake
i was trying to help
and grabbed it´ s pretty tail
you will be happier over there
yonder green..
but the ungrateful little *******
sunk his fangs into my hand..
and i eased the back of his delicate
skull like a miracle from god..
and prised his delicate jaw asunder
i thought that will teach me to interfere
put him in the grass..


iv

birds..
let us be..we have a lot of blackcaps..
quite a lot of jays
though it has been years
since i have seen
then hoopoe
i like them
man bird
who does not
love and fear the
waxen wing..
the sparrows laugh
the blackbird like
some gibbet´ s shadow
outside my window
the pyramid
and golden eye
the seagulls don´ t care..
sometimes what sit of
goldfinches arrive like
gatecrashers and it is
a thunderbird..lol
****..we all panic like
detroit..
i watch the crane
like dinosaur
slide across the sky..
there is a stray parrot
abroad
our ducks were murdered
one windy night..
but the parrot silent
once i thought about a robin
and it appeared
i thought that weird
and it said well
we have some vulture
lily stop that
no
we
don´ t
....

v

two minute poem
not expected to a
amount to much
but full may hap
lacking in stature..
to change universes
one and maybe two
lines..just the sentiment
of a few words set
in steel and verse..


well **** that was it!
two minutes
that have past like
my life....

life is rough
too much love
not enough-
live

too fast
die too young
don´t ask
fun

fun!?
grow old
a setting sun
cold

and alone..
yeah
life is so..
where

is the
corazon,
hope,
understanding..

i don´t know
but if you
do
answers on

a
post
card
por favor..

life´s rough-
but golly is
it not how we
make

it!?
eg, i was
thick as pig
****
but

i read, crime and
punishment
(and this
changed mine..)

(thankyou jane
for hitting me
with it-
it hurt)

dostoyevski
and the russians
game changers
i thought..

like a chick pea
burst in the micro
will terminate
our civilization so

a glance to skyward
that is all we´ ll know
a bit of buzzing
a bell will go

a giant portal open
we will do
the state of
that too but

the end..
great no
deny
cubed through

now later
tomorrow
just a little
lingers..

******* hot
slammed shut
darkness
some growth..

like the child telling tales
teacher regards us and
sniffs the wind-
(ask not for whom the bell
tolls..*)

lily
let me see
let reality
caste the wily
why
from and
away
the way
out this
blinded
lackness
see your beauty
and blast my
old eye free
of pre
concieve
sly habituality
redeem me
let your lack
still
let nothing
pray
let time
be the first time
let me see you
again
without another
to die
to fall
at that exact
let moment
ended
see you a first
time
when you sweetly
smiled and said hello..

lily bitten
her heart smitten
she says boredom
and alienation..

she likes to sink
her teeth in
her aggression
civilisation veneer

thin..disappear her
gentle loving and wild
and grin her fang
witch caved and eyed

red..jungle side dissapates
gentleness and kind waits
some crmson coagulated
sun and moon tied..

she says sorry
a recalcitrant child
pretty and mild
a gentle sigh..

lily considers her play-list
she says,or i will just get ******
a lot of eighties..

creation is born of suppression
the victorians,thatcher..regan..
(we went to the sun)

ii

i had one room
a concrete box with
a large wardrobe-the sole

decor-a concrete floor
and a great piece of wood
for a door

the key to heavy to carry..
the back-door opened to the sea
and there i did my daily ablutions..

and when there was a storm!
it all came down..i sat and watched
the light..

when we had *** the first time r
remember?
the land lady sat in attendance?!

you hid..she said,avrio..mikalis,
you go and i said don´t you worry
about that..

but i did nt..i loved that room
i wonder if it is still there..
i hope so..

iii

bored with it already
she tosses her head
she says music and dance is

her  therapy..spontaneity is a thing..
but that key was a problem..
too heavy to carry and if left

on the table,attracted attention..
i would have to pocket it
if i went to the toilet

and this suggested distrust..
but the door was beautiful
old and creased and green..

iv

and the landlady was ok
she would feed me
tell me not to lose the key..

the room was completely barren
only the sea..
the little rock pool my friend..