Where's all this rain they keep talking about?
It not fell for awhile
But it's hardly a drought
Weatherman don't know what he's talking about
Where's all this rain?

You don't feel it yourself
What others think of you
And they rarely say it
Not within your earshot
Till its too late
Standing over your box
You don't feel it yourself

Some day a real rain will come
Like Travis said to the candidate
Been thinking of Firearms and Mohicans of late
The time has passed for scholarly debate
Some day a real rain will come.

Is the nature of expression
Just a collective
Jumping off point
A result of tickling
Our unconsciousness
From sullen back to noisy front
Ejected
Deep within
To without
After Previous
Shoving its way in
As we went
Ambling
Through the cloud?

When scientists get poetic
They knock this place into
A cocked hat
Cos they deal
With real truth
And proper ambiguity
Now
What you think
About that?

Sam and Dianne
Tony and Carmela
Vera and Jack
Bobby and Shiela
Boston
Jersey
Weatherfield
Liverpool.

Is that thin gravy
Or black coffee
That half empties my cup?
It's been there awhile
It's looking a bit rough
Don't give it a sniff
Grasp the handle
Take it up
Drain it down
I'll know soon enough.

I've started to fuse iron within my core
It won't be long now
I can feel innards roar
I read the sign that says exit
Atop the fuzzy door
Just passed
The point that tips
I'll metabolise
And grow no more

Switch off my chromosomes
Like Hisashi Ouchi
It won't be horrific though
Like with that poor *******
Might as well
Dive off of the wagon
C'mon let's get plastered
Swim in the pool
It was fun while it lasted

But you can change
Anytime that you want
It just a choice
Wether to drink
And from which font
Was it the script
Or performance
Made you a useless savant?
Better ask Tom Cruise.

The Mars Opportunity Rover
Conked out in 2018
After fourteen years a wandering
Across the dusty plains
Over fifty times
It's life expectancy
The plucky little *******
Rolled on
Finally succumbing
To a massive dust storm
Separated from the sun
Of course
It never uttered
It's famous last words
They were gleaned
From the final data dump
But the internet got hold of it
And in its throat
It had a lump

Oppy didn't
Self anthropomorphise
She did not know what that was
She just died
Scared cold and lonely
In service to her god's

Everyone stinks of something
But not all can smell it
Dependant on your olfactory frequency
Is what gives the odour credit


Pitched above or below them
And they inhale in ignorance
But tuned
Right on the money
And they will look at you
Askance.

When you strike down
A ***** in Egypt
The Earth it feels alive
Reconnected
To the wellspring
So many questions inspired
You don't know how they did it
The carving
Transport
And placement
Shafts Driven
Arrow straight through the bedrock
To open technology's basement.

We don't want to be small
Even compared to one another
Cos it's better
Generally speaking
To be tall rather
Than little
That don't take long to discover
Then you turn
To the trees
The mountains
And the continents
You imagine yourself
Traipsing round the world
Just how many steps
Would that take?
The solar system
The Milky Way
The local groups
The endless days
They move away
And loop round to the beginning
To every point in time
And each place
Along the line
In the vacuum
You are aware of
Creation singing
It Sits on
The cosmic fence
Of this bubble universe
Mixed with the countless
In an eternal
Glass of beer
That sits upon a table
In a bar
That is quite able
To hold infinity
And it's the smallest
Gaff in town.

Will the days
All fall away
Or is it
Just this one
Here to stay?

When your awake
Against your will
It's an encomposing thing
It seems as if
It will not end
Like last orders will not ring
And then the sun comes up
And realise you've slept
Self absorption
Is the crack
Into which
You have crept.

To be called a murderer
In some fields
Is the highest
Compliment
Comedy
Philosophy
With no
Personal intent
Like Bill Hicks
Talented beyond belief
With a selfish bent
It comes home
If you listen enough
It's a big tent.

Llandudno is one **** town
Everyone I've talked to
Felt the need to throw it
Down.

A recently viewed headline
It made  you giggle
But imagine
If it went down the line
By Grand Moth Tarkin
He felt undermined.

Don't won't to sound
Like George Formby
But there's no other way
Lest you ignore me
Cos the reverse is true
When I'm drinking whisky
It not Through others lives
It's the **** ****
Within me.

Went yesterday
To the funeral
Of an old friends mother
To a new ancient church
That morning discovered
The fine cut sandstone
Fogged in incense
To its core
It's sacred symmetry
Unnoticeable worn
When Eddie's dad
Took the lectern
To emote
The previous
Spirituality
Somehow
Seem mute
He spoke of their meeting
The birth and growth
Of their son
The break in his voice
But the strength to go on
The depth of the love
So unpretentiously spun
When you think
Of false sentiment
So readily spent
The decades of devotion
Is surely what the lord meant.

How does love work?
The mechanics
The chemistry
Then the circumstances
The chances
The mystery
How does it maintain
When time lays down
It's sophistry
But then again
Look at all
Those
Whom
Are
Not into
Me.

Yer qwerty keyboard
Was arranged
Cos of the mechanical nature
And the way fingers catch
But its not the most efficient
Now that everything is flat
But they haven't changed it
Cos the benefits are minimal
Compared to reconstitution
And all of that retraining
Liminal.

There's a glass in my cupboard
That's seventy two years old
Sometimes I drink ***** out of it
To see what might unfold
It belonged to my grandma
It's a coronation relic
I've checked
It's not collectible
It's fate
Is rather hectic.

People talk of
Comparing apples to oranges
Like its some pointless exercise
But Apples are boss
And oranges ****
I wouldn't tell you any lies.

Feels like it hasn't rained in weeks
But there was
A spritzing just now
Lasted but a few minutes
All the clouds would allow
So there is that fragrance
That's hard to describe
Wet dust
Doesn't quite cover it
But it makes me feel alive.
It makes you remember.

America passes
Mother's Day
Just over
A month after
But we
Celebrate the dads
On the
Same day
Without laughter
Allowing
For the worlds turn
Against
All
Disaster
The
Weird
Thing
Is
The
Mas
Are
Still
*******
Plastered.

I think I've seen
AI videos
About how much
Sleep you need
But
Good lord
I'd feel terrible
If I've
Human relieved.

A system that bends the truth
As well as the lies
Would provide
Quicker communion
On which
Most rely
But we can't do it
Like interstellar travel
So it's increasing
Space junk
As capacity
Unravels.

It's the Badminton horse trials today
Seems an exercise in futility
How are they going to
Toss up the shuttlecock?

You ever get that sudden surge?
You  Don't know where it came from
A salty pulse behind the eyes
That swells
Then leaves your skull
A smell
A taste
A tune
A movie
A wave from those
That have gone on
A hail from heart to brain
From where
They now belong.

Klopp out,Slot in.Title won.

Brevity is the essence of wit
Also grotesque laziness.

I'm lining em up
Urologist
Proctologist
Phlebotomist
Clinician
Radiologist
Encologist
Anaesthesiologist
Mortician.

Computer!
Make that 7% more convincing
No more than that
Don't want to raise suspicions
If we are to manoeuvre them
It's quite the subtle dance
Through the sun dappled forest
Where memory gets enhanced
I want to see
If you can make them cry
Or perhaps nostalgic
The biggest of the lies
Goosebumps
And
Raised neck hair
Is what your after
Maybe the feel
Of sand twixst toes
Upon the ancient shore
Enhance two twenty four
To one seventy six
Consolidate image
Centre in and stop.

If Alan Latchley
Were still alive you could ask him
Like he said
She can bring a tear to your eye
She can bring the blood to your shoulder
She can bring the kettle to the boil
Cos football is about nothing
Unless it is about something
And what it is about
Is football
He tossed a coin into the air
He let it fall
He knew not where
But at least
He could look himself
In the mirror
In the morning and say
There is a man!

Roald Dahl's unexpected tales
Was inhabited
Mostly by fails
115 episodes
They put up on the clock
The vast majority though
Just made you scoff
Poorly written
With lacklustre pay offs

Of course there were fine exceptions

The Irish pickpocket
Lot's wife
And the lamb of slaughter
Showed how it could be
Just what it ought to
And then there was the sharpest of all
Spark a lighter ten times
Or lose a finger
As i recall

But on the whole
The lack of quality
Made the mind boggle
I much preferred the gory
Hammer house of horrors.

My girl thought
We had an infestation
Cos she saw the odd earwig
But then she slung her hook
And I haven't seen one since.

We the five percent
Demand the rest
Of you mysterious *******
Stand up and be counted.

My auld fellah
Had a boss way
Of pricking pomposity
With his prong
He'd simply listen to them bloviate
Then
Get their name slightly wrong.

If I keep eating
Pies pasties and puddings
Would gravity's weak force
Be countermanded
So I could slip these
Surly bonds?

The provision of suicide booths
Would be like free air travel
For those who say
They'll leave the country
Should the other side prevail.

Just enough arseholes
To keep things interesting
Yin pushes yang
You know
That kind of thing
Like the outer spinning arms
Of a spiral galaxy
They are on all edges
Seeking calamity.

In the high heat of Persia
The land of off milk
And tainted honey
You can't tell as the feast begins
Your palate unsuspecting
You think it exoticness

They keep feeding you
Way past the bursting
With a funnel jammed down your throat
Then trap you between
Two hollowed out logs
With holes for your arms to poke through

Trapped in surreal crucifixion
You **** and you puke
Laid befouled in a traumatised haze
Then of course the insects and small animals come
After a couple of days

To begin the meal of a lifetime

The end has begun
Think of the torment to come
Laying there in the reek
Helpless as beasties creep
In darkness you weep
For there shall be no relief
As your devoured
Over a matter of weeks.

When I was a kid
The TarMac
Used to slowly weep
Bubbled up in the summer
Like it was seeking relief
We'd gather it up
On the end of lollipop sticks
Smear it on the arms and legs
Of all of our friends
Pretended it torture
Like it was searing the skin
Instead of pleasantly warm
Sweet smelling
Soft resin
The aroma of Cypress
And Cedar
And Myrrh
On those hot seventies days
Without a care.

No 1:Blessed are the lonely
For they shall have their hands held

No 2:Blessed are the foolish
For they shall see the world spinning round

No 3:Blessed are the cuckolded
For they shall be helped in their revival

No 4:Blessed are the tired
For they shall not live in denial

No 5:Blessed are the afraid
For the movement they need is on their shoulder

No 6:Blessed art the meek
Cos they've had a hell of a time

No 7:Blessed are the Ringos
With their daily six bottles of wine

No 8:Blessed are the places
They shall be remembered well

No 9: Number9,number9,number9,number9.

When the wind gets all Omen like
When Gregory Peck
Takes Lee  Remick
For his wife
Then the jackels
Offer an way out
David Warner
Takes the lead
Until
He gets his head cut off
And the press proclaim that
That was
The video nasty
Funny
Till we
Go all normioplasty.

The throb you feel or you don't
Bounces off of some of
The things
That you want
But then again
There's the general malaise
That imagines
With no evidence
The things that you crave.

You say it was unbearable
But you bore it
Every minute
You were in it

Like a cave diver
Turned around
In silty water
You felt that this was it
Soaked lamb to the intrinsic slaughter

But look at you now
It's like it didn't even happen
When you emerged
At the caves mouth
Those that loved you
All were clapping.

A properly shuffled deck
Has never been dealt the same twice
And will not be either
Till all the humans lose their lives
It wrings the mind
The scale to vast
To infinity's edge
Yer noodle gets cast
But there's levels to all games
So to madness it leads
When you play the one
Where the tree has three seeds.

When even our core becomes sand
After its followed the crust
Mantle
And land
Then vibrates
To the far reaches
Would we be the first to go?
Do we phase up or below?
We'll be grains
So what would that teach us?

The relative temperature of light
Is apparent to those that
Got arseholed in Spain
Fell asleep doubled over naked on the balcony
And thus exposed their fruit baskets
To the blistering morning
Takes awhile
But
The burn it keeps coming.

How Duth thou
Go forth
Wence from ere
Thou did came
Thence thy sallied by
Twixst the lullaby
''Twas to blame.