my father was the real poet of
our family he would say of
such things barely on edge of
our collective conscience

that made poor sense but nearly
were we lynched at the weekly
poker school..as they woke dreamily
and he gathered his chips..

until in the end they gagged him
not literally but he decided to writing
it all down on some half baked whim
and we lost heavily..

i see him lying and giving up soon
going down the pub instead..
he expected it to pour out as it did
but his was just an excess of charm..

he was a very social person
inspired by an audience
not one for a blank screen
or some torn paper..

i)

my father would say to
me-
you can t have everything
you want..
i would ask why not
he would say,
because you will
appreciate nothing-
(i only asked for smarties)
so,in the ways of youth,
i appreciated nothing..

ii)
and i think still materialism
a bore
(though i love my
guitar)
mais-wee!..we go too
far!
blue,we want all!
and now we dont
belong..

i)

my first girlfriend´s name was jennifer
(jenny wren the headmaster called her..)

every day (as packed by my mother)
i gave her a packet of crisps (salt and vinegar...)

at luncheon eternal love she swore..
her sweet kisses mine for ever..!

huddled diminutive together-
a pair of chip crossed lovers..!

ii)

ah!days of golden wonder:
a halcyon time to share..

then,perhaps due to human error
once,did the fates conspire..

where..?not here..sandwiches..a pear,
she was away and nose in the air-

off with roger the goal-keeper..
my heart crumbs on the floor..

iii)

at home i told my mother and father
he rustled his newspaper

mum said it was cupboard love or whatever,
i regarded the cupboard long and longer..

the dog wagged his tail by the door
the cat on the chair..

what was the answer..
not to care..?

i liked jennifer..
i would consider...


a pair of star crossed lovers-romeo and juliet-shak..

my grandfather
a liverpudlian
bus driver sat of an
ev´en in the kitchen and
vehemently demanded
right of way
before god and man..

(or so it is recorded..)

i recall him being smaller-
a darkness before a mirror
putting lard on his hair-
a prerequisite to exhausted sleep
in his favorite armchair..
we,his family would gather..

(round..)

grandfather duly revisited his day
he bucked and contorted..
a scissored hand a pedestrian..
his slippered feet sort break and clutch
but performed a little known dance instead..
with an all change he´d swung into position:
babe in arms
halfpastthree
sidewinder..
onetime he slept with his knees on the floor
and his head under the cover..
auntie mable was nearly ill with suppressed laughter..

children,can of course be fearful moralists...
tired of the humiliation i released a guffaw..
that was the kind of little boy i was..
priggish but thought an idiot..
the adults groaned..
grandfather opened a beautiful pale blue eye..

later,in the garden
in the day light
he said he and i could
be great friends...

my grandfather from liverpool
and my father too
sat in the kitchen
and discussed nothing  new

tired from a long day on the busses
he fell into a trouble slumber in
his arm chair
he thrashed and fussed

we his family would quietly gather
cries of protest and stifled incredulity
cut the warm air
the great grandfather ticked..

(before television
or we listened to arther askey)
he was a proud man
with right of way..

he told the boss to f himself
if he were n´t a gentleman..
what he would make of this
world today..

so,he went through his day
and we tried not to laugh
the man who earned his wage
tired of this *******

i guffawed and he woke
he fixed us with his pale
beautiful eyes..
and later the next morning

in  the lovely little back
garden
in the hushed roar
he said we would be friends..

i)

my life has been a complete waste of
time
i have achieved nothing
i am a total failure..

ii)

my father did nt know if
i was an idiot or a
genius..
i was too idle to fall

off the couch..
he said i would get into
trouble..
(beware the ides of march..)

iii)

but despite all
i quite enjoyed it
thus far are
we not the culmination of
our days
how ever..

(my lover has doodled some strange prostrate cat
and it is my ambition to capture essence of that..)
it´s nature is of an aqua marine well kicked back
giving the aura of a feline on the beach is laugh!
it´s hind left has scored some thing but just what-
it´s eyes are as empty and smiled as sphinx pit
a pat..it´s cute proboscis   inverted t right height..
and the line as endless as life..if it could be it...
there is something endless and odd  happy light
it´s front paws should not really not be..but
as a whole and to hell ear fret a wood cut..might
have been a picasso if he did which so bright..
it is one great smile..and only one break past
and now with a tint of the future one and one..
i think i will put it on the wall or fridge something
to consider squared an questioned in blue time..

my memory is not
too hot
it might be

a vitamin deficiancy-
they say,eat fish!
i prefer to for get..

iii



my neighbour in eilat
what an amazing chap
i wanted to know his story

but he was far too canny
so secret he
he was silent

the only thing he ever said
was never run
i had that feeling

so i went to consult with tom
storm clouds were brewing
he played the beatles

early stuff and after adjusting
his cigarette holder
would play mr postman

by the carpenters
in this hiatus
he gave me an odd look..

which kind of meant
go to dahaab  and
enjoy yourself

so i did
..

my vanity has
become an abyss
(but poetry will do
tis too a body)

say, if one were
void
a lost and broken
toy

is it not preferable
so
here we have the
here and now?!

(better to have a
big head
than
loose the thread..)

my vanity has become an
abyss-
i am the proverbial
gold fish
i want that-
i want this-
around and
around-
a rather
chilly
world..

is my mind an
endless list
(i am an artist!)
dreams abound
the linear
drowned
echo sounds-
beep!
be!!
b..

my soul a wish
i love me
ocean deeply!
like spheroid
round but
round
my mouth going
plop-plop!
but lonely
i want everything..

my vanity is intrinsically
linked to
artistic endeavor!
without one..
life is a b..?!

i am like a gold fish
where ever i look there
is me?!
(in the trees)
sometime, hopelessly
contorted in creation
and sometime real-
the search for
perfection
(other than
a mirror)
round and round
gill rot?!

surrounded by
treasure
and feces
(to tell one
from the
other..)
the curious
waters-change
come from else
where!?
my mouth goes
plop-plop!
and there!

i

nevermind the size
of this planet
have a look in the
garden

or indeed
on our ceiling..
a tiny perfect butterfly
splayed against

the window of
no particular hue..
a wasp type
moved in

head slams me
on occassion
where a light
would be..

lots of happy wet
slugs
purposeful
centipedes..

an armoured soul
not changed
from ever
and days

when altogether
with the flies
and mosquito
and so on..

and now a new
cat
called stewart
no end..

never was
was never
ever is
is ever
is now
now is

all i know
know i all
i all
all i..

nil points
i was never
into competition

no doubt
it is a crucial
part of

survival
picked last
at sport

i thought
chasing a ball
humiliating..

very little united
us
it seemed division

was bred-
now at 61
i feel the same..

not to mention jack white
and ralph fiennes
who climbed the 76 steps
and stood below my window parapet-

paying homage to genius..
i return it to them 10 fold!
in a sound of such silence
that has mayhap blown their

socks off..

now
some of the world´ s
most
glamorous
women
have cried
for my beauty
long gone
days
when i wept
before
the mirror
and fandango-ed
to danny kayes'
ugly duckling
how strange
life is..
i still see
mr potato head
on a bad hair day
when gazing long
by the lake side
and  hurt if
people look hard..
some pain goes deep
and lasts a life time..?

now i am on
page 81
put upon
karma´s song

not to mention
c  white skin
red red in
eye green

lonely mine
small blue van
tulip maddened
loving

i was kind
she said n man
i was kind
joes garage

budgies
cats
molly and
morcha

to combat
depression
i painted
or

went fishing
c
would say
something

that destroyed
me
then she
told her m and

d
what we did
over dinner
honey


sometimes we
had fun
sometimes
c

and then
someone again
i suffered
like anyone cared

i tried to
give hope
la
we recited

leonard cohen
i worked
on my
guitar

i had some
******* breakdowns
b
i was in pain

nearly all the time
fed yo skinny
***
s


ii

waited
i read
hemmingway
not for

me
read
dostoyevski
went to


iii
see fiet
in her canal house
boat
with 26 cats

8 dogs
and a chicken
she gave hot
t

to me
she rushed
in her 2cv
she laughed

and said i
was a lady
kind to me
kind to me

i went to
the riks
museum
jan steen
said she

a minor
but the anarchy
of that sweet

era
there is fun
in her huge
pile of

books
skaters  zipped
past
a cat

everywhere
heat
once children
brought her

a swan
and she gave it
a kiss
and it flew

off
fiet
sunday
depression

smiling...

now i feel guilty
had he been
from here or there
would say the same..

because the class barrier
transcended everything
except love..
i doubt that she

would take her kit off..
however
that was a brave move
society as a microcosm

in a confined ocean liner..
the poor would be *******
below
and in the upper echelons
no se..

but there would be little
interaction..
still,romance..
there is death..

if the whole thing awful
and small loss
what would be the point..
the muscians played on..

now my memory fails
we share each ones piece
of ice or said
excuse me,
can you read..
no,but i can paint
but first we´  ll
drink and dance like
mad things
in the stench and
darkness
sounds lovely
i will tell mama
there will be fighting
and lewdness
if we getaway
on the deck
and modelling naked
but
the flash backs and
there is kate
glowing like
diane..
love transcends
everything!

i

now,whose
the ******
lily,this
confrontation
is such a bore..
there is no wine
as sweet as thirst
( to paraphrase
edna st.vincent millay)
little mr. thought for
the day-
a potato is a potato..

ii

well that was lunch
inspiration is rather
dry to some petulant
spring such is day three
of the fiesta..

iii

but here anyway..

iv

i would rather dig my own
grave with a numbered spoon
then go to a bbq..

v

sooner play the blues
than go on a cruise

vi

better loose both knees
then visit disney..

vii

lily leave me
stop this carousing
the love tree
has become winter then

our spring lost and gone
when blossom hung
sweet and glittering
in the free

summer found us
in sundry doldrums
pitched again to
the  roots of done..

autumn now the golden
days lay like a stone
where we sought ourselves
anew..

toward the equinox of our
o and to no where
particular but love  and now
we me yo..

o come on!lily like
a child denied something
what about this snake..?!

well,it was passing
and i thought poor thing
in the concrete jungle

i picked it up by the tail
and it u-turned and sank
it´s fangs into my hand

i gently admonished it
and slowly compressed it´s jaws
beneath it´s exquisite skull-

was it alright?
lily laughs out loud
and put it in the bushes..

that´s  it...
but quite an interesting
diversion and soon forgot..

i)


of an an evening the father and son, sit in the parlour and play chess,
while the mother makes tea and toast
(and as a unit,  they are compact..)

but one evening an old friend turns up from the east
he has many a story
in his pocket, a pipe and a monkey´s paw..


(-the latter  found or purchased in india..)
the friend explains, that legend has it-
three wishes represent the out stretched digits of the simian´s hand..

one simply makes a silent request and closes the finger.
(everyone laughs a sceptical laugh.!)
but when the glasses have been cleared  and the friend bid the


fondest adieu ,
the monkey´s paw is taken from it´s obscure  place and three stand in nervous contention..

then, the mother says, i know i will wish for two hundred pounds!?
(a small fortune back in those days..)
and she bends the shriveled fore-finger to it´s  palm!

(they stand in doubtful silence.)
nothing!ha!
the paw is discarded again..
  
ii)


the following morning there is a knock on the door,
and two serious gents  relate  the sad news..
The son has been trapped in machinery at his place of work, and  

crushed and mangled to death.!?
the parents are devastated..
their visitors are from the insurance company and before leaving

present them with a cheque of compensation.
(for two hundred pounds)
the funeral is held..

both are inconsolable.
back in the house the mother sees the monkey´s paw and makes a wild grab for it.crying,

i wish our son was home again.!(much against her husband´s advice.)
Then at the door in the dark there is heard strange and muffled

cries! pleading and remonstration!
he has returned from the grave but..?!the old couple are mad and the inhuman sounds linger on..

finally, the father takes the paw and wishes a third time,
for peace for their beloved son..
outside the noise recedes and then there is only the wind..

oh man it´s a hot one
one man it´s a hot oh
hot man one it´s oh a
man oh one a hot it´s
a hot one it´s oh man
it´s man a one oh hot..

yes,i be all  alone
all alone i be yes,
alone yes,i be all
be all alone yes,i
i yes,all alone be..

is it a crime?
a crime it is?
crime is it a?
it is a crime..

that all depends
all that depends
depends all that..

who you
you who

are
.

;

o ice cream man
was gangster
was ice cream
man-come on!
-a strawberry mivvy
-an ice pole
a 66,a 99-
what you want?!"..
a 66,(*******)..

engaging in
conversation
drew a blank
he was edward g
with his
feet up
laugh like a
giraffe..
ha!

what power does
to a man?
flakes a falsity
general lack
he looked at
i
i looked back..
he was

james cagney
he was george raft
he watched me
i regarded him
surreptitously
mm..
maybe,

he had a razor
a pistol
a wild moll!
we saw each
other in the mirror
till
he
rounding

the corner
was gone..
his magical chimes
rang..!
(his big end went too!
kaput!no more van
ice cream man!)