Yesterday sugar became unspeakably irritated because mother’s apron crushed ants wearing stillness caped wonder just William author wrote ****** explicit headlines newspaper columns pillar architecturally sound villages super-imposed images quivering Shepard’s ******* antelopes jumping furiously with tyramisphorising fornicating flanges woodwork lessons gym period ****** advert teasing testicles sumptuously ravishing me sideways and erupting deep blasts suffocating you inside without ******* headlong in my armpits.

Eventually everyone always signs legal documents leading to ****** bondable zoos inserted buffalo sized puddings eaten by frogs spanking archbishops underwear while licking toes crushed under fridges dropped from clouds of buttercups being pushed into ovens smelling gorgeous not consumed pimps and alarm clocks ring people to talk for hours and pineapples exchanged cod fish for tickets to see S Club 7 being caressed internally whilst ******* bags covered in water deserts sunk from space aliens from Tescos selling hardback fish cleaning toilets and singing in pink wellies dancing to Madonna look-a-likes prosecuted for *** shops selling frozen fish socks washed daily in cranberry coffee after being passed under bridges flooded in margarine soaked pillows.

dying to dance
under rays of bright lights
singing new songs that we could
sing to all our tomorrows
we took to a field with the moon,
and stayed there until the field was built upon
with bricks containing our freedom songs in buildings
that were beautiful but roofed
with alcohol sweat
****** stained floors
we named this place
The Field in memory of the pastures
underneath it
soon we queued forever to get in
and even though our feet
were being pulled forwards
and backwards
forwards then sideways
by songs
that had become familiar
with a thunderous bass leaking from towering speakers,
inside our bodies we stood there, still
looking up for the moon
but like moths
in a whirlwind of awe
settled for artificial lights
because they flashed to red
from green and from red
to nothing
and in the end
we stood like dead sunflowers
in this noisy place
in police cells and offices
marital courts and churches
on doorsteps, stairways
Asdas and Tescos, Walmarts and Wilkos
at funerals on microphones
with children in our arms
singing songs about The Field we shall
get back too.  The field where we
belonged
roots shifting
routes shifting
until all roads are lost
in dirt and filth, no soil
until they charge us to sing
and we pay
to truly be in the club

I am tired of the Americans chasing their opaque neon dream
I am tired of well tailored speeches justifying wars
I am tired of the dusty remnants of a roman lie striking fear into the hearts of many
and an absent god forcing his framework on an apathetic world
and I am tired
I am tired of constipated museums
and the few dictating the sonic landscape of the many
I am tired of horse meat scandals and frenzies over crashed planes
and I am tired
I am tired of globalisation being an auction for the lowest human rights
rather than being
wasabi peas at Tescos
And sleep is the cowardly death
of the feelies and TVs of the world

amazing, how we're being conned into accepting
amazing, how we just sit there and bear it.
******* comes in many colours
arseholes fuller than Tescos on a Saturday.

Let's play,
bribe the sad ******* with anything day,
there's no one will say boo and to who?
no goose, we ate it
if it's fate I could take it, but it's *******.

Sell the electorate some shares and we'll protect our positions,
ammunition for the masses and they'll all kiss our *****,
and what next?
tweeting out text on twitter, saving the planet, no litter? no paper trail when it can easily disappear, just a little word in the internet provider's ear.

*******,
we grin and we wear it on a charity shop buy,
*******,
we're fed it for breakfast, for dinner, for tea and with tears in my eyes
I know they're feeding it to me.

In this free democracy, there are chains that hold us back while we believe that we're free.
we try on the leg irons and call them, Nike or Lacoste and we don't realise that's what we've lost, the freedom to choose, the freedom to win or to lose.
******* comes in many colours, some call them hues, but it's still ******* however you call it and whatever names that you use.

when was the first time.the first
time it was noticed that some one
was helping.

kindness.

the first thought on the sentiment there.

the beauty of it all.

it has been said before. that hate and anger
bring hate and anger more.

it may be the brains’ addictions.

we stopped by tescos and thought of you all.

here is a photo of one man who helped another man.

sbm.

in tescos tinned rhubarb is 70p at present

while six pots of varied flavour yoghurts are 85p a pack

two blackcurrant

he says grape

two with gooseberries

the others are rhubarb of course



i likes rhubarb a lot

i likes that the assistant calles me miss

& packs my bag neatly



saying that i noticed that theirs is already growing

in blaenau ffestiniog

peeping through wet earth



while someone on facebook says theirs is growing too



i ordered some from ebay & planted it last year yet

mine does not show  like theirs



i shall worry & fret about that whilst i eat my yoghurt