put yourself outside the real

feel the ebb and flow

of the unusual

its great

outsider you are

Who Binds The Spirits ?



thoughts  scorching around the bend
 an abandoned apple
 a thousand milligrams
a paper plane with broken nose cone

great chasm lie dormant

without expectations of bliss to make it to the poetry museum
 reflected in two or three chance meetings
deepish sleep
no shocks
oh what joys
Borges to my left
bananas to my right

the comedy of bones the laughter of skeletons

intangible forms rely on light
to cast shadows
 then force it
somewhere out the back it's there
hidden in a mildewed box
of piled ephemera
cast your gaze more closely
an old image some  pristine vision

a pastoral scene something pre industrial
a romantic evocation of toil with a full cast and crew  waiting to be appointed
the  parish beadle chatting with the dowager over instant coffee
and here comes young master Pip, costumes ready, location and sound.
somewhere else floats a popinjay, a spectre and a escaped convict with rusty manacles.

if it won't come force it roast it fry it then boil and bake it
chance meetings won't occur without physical actions
stack highbrow visionaries so they can be closer to their gods
bring up the miners scrub the whites of their eyes
take fresh offerings to the base of the shrine
wrap shiny stones in vine leaves something purple perhaps
take extra special care over the crevasse
throw wide your net to increase chances of capturing escapees
light up a pyre for Jupiter strike drums introduce intoxication
encourage wildness embrace your enemy warmly
now they are no longer your enemy
the drums increase the atmosphere is changing, stars hang heavy like ripe fruits
you pluck one and the sky collapses  multi coloured
gushes through the ritual
instinct to run
but you stay and accept your fate
a boat appears from the jungle manned by the local shaman

Wake in fright

 too soon

the eyes  open

but inside

not caught up

thoughts still

scrambling around

to catch up

in the spotlight thrown

 immobile

toss a life line

to the dreaming self

fuck where am i

haul him in they say

hands flailing

broiling unconscious ocean

just caught it

what / lost at sea, last seen heading for the beach

or unexplained , we moved the picture book section

that was the last….

bodies clambering

the sounds the quest

the russet hues
the  gods that  ruled the land
let me lead you

take my hand take my hand

unroll your flag unfurl your lust you ungainly beast
lay out your comely bounty
demented we folly in the long summers grass
 dissolve into nothingness
  the hearts exlposions

sunlight breaks the  trance

The Modern Silhouette 

Is in the barbeque position

Flight vouchers cannot be used for alcohols

That is a shame mate

Of course I’ll gladly be your enemy

The storm eaters write an ‘omage to Poe

Course they did course they did……

A poetic voyage a flight of fancy

Opal vision crusty spaghetti house a last resort brokered just before closing time

Borges is on the phone he wants his ideas back

All of them

So does Pessoa come on hand em over

Storm eater fleet and mercurial does one

‘Is all that we see or seem but a ….’

The quasi mythological versus the semi-skilled that’s what we have in this country right now.

write an epic in the style of Swinburne a worthy goal

Square chap reading a book called ‘Utopia for realists’, falls asleep straight away, microcosm of drool, the merest spectre forms, corner of the mouth

The English

As hapless as ale.

As helpless as cake

Temporary residence outside star bucks advertising vapour

All I wanted to do was get my feet under the payroll somewhere

Semi-skilled at living

Adepts at dying

Barely living

Women’s hour

Hot smoke colluding with cold breath

In and out

Eroding the heart that smells the trigger

“A bee flew into my mouth”

Now has been rung

Now has been sung the morning bell

The pastry economy is up our experts say

Fuelled by increased anxiety over Brexit and the prospect of summer in particular croissants are flourishing

Hot sugary money

Fuelling our hearts disaster

Cut Up In Ivegill

Put on the brakes

                   Come let us begin

                          Blue ish

Pleistocene                          balls

                          epoch                             and that became of

                                        death of starlight

All is not lost to lucid dreaming                all things coincidental

Would be able to cope much better

                                        And exploit liminal vicissitudes

Metempsychosis

                        Orubus crustacians

Blue bell working class Marxist, an angular high priest

Comes along brings with it a molten fortune

                                

 News just in from Pyongyang

Industrial wine convert

The most carefree rhythms wildest native canticles

                                                  Broken infested

An alchemical elegy to the very tip of her riposte

Sweat the carcass cairns and lichen

This opportunity for revenge to fleece the knowledge of grief

It is a robust proposition of that which there is no doubt.

Lay down the lead sceptre of the art worlds upward thrust  

It was at this moment in time that we met up with the celebrated art thief in that

Underground ossuary

Time bore gorse and the wolves were dancing.      

distilled entropy

a lunar eclipse

your dirty soul in a bandage

half an aqusition

thoughts overflow and tumble out


          all wrong

hands can't keep up with

the exqusite watchmaker

the mechanisms that allow free chocolate egg  movement

borders without

crazy

wind em up watch em go

overhead an  ensign in the shape of a fist

saxaphone flair up loop in an adjacent room

sounds like Coltrane in a spin

 take 25mg twice a day

 discarded liminal wrappings

Classical tourism today is flourishing

take Kallipolis for example



not much going on here

some old tundra nut
gambling on an outside punt

A Tray Of Egrets Like A Selection Box

stumbling forwards breathless 

(Mark Edward Smith donates graciously with thanks mate)

 intention

 life rushes in 

surges straight  out 

boys can smell the lightning

they don't admit fear yet

all is game

let us take a  voyage

a peptic ramble past the  reed beds

newly  flavoured books

 & looks that taint and tease 

0utward bound  fluid thoughts

 frantic islands

boundless

shrouded

in pellucid green azure 

around the rocks base

smashing in Atlantic rollers

what toxic swill is this 

broiling at the back

 of my mind

oyster catcher and skylark breakfast together

stones layer upon stones bracket a skyway a ramp upwards

if it dies now and rolls of this cliff 

a tragic accident but not a tragedy?