And then it slowed to a death rattle

The Bata factory at East Tilbury abandoned Eastern European relic
All the train signs have worn away so that only the outlines of the lettering remain
Heavy industrial on the Thames estuary
Nobody about though, the landscape seems devoid of human life
Piles of bagged gravel
Pit sea
A sea pit
Mock Tudor by the rail side
Neglected buildings covered in ivy
Over the crossing
One hour out of Fenchurch
Either side of the tracks the growth tries to consume the track
It wants to engulf the space
Wild marsh horses
Hard Nature
Chemical plants 

Of Course, A Hearing

broken sentences snap sudden 

sticks will join the soundscape

And  be lost for another day

Another blasted day 

That pours out of the cannon 

green and garish glistening with gloom

as it is exploded over the marsh

Watch as it’s wasted contents

Fold over in a  mushroom cloud of perfect discontent

Hanging in the air, a distended jellyfish

Lifeless and flaccid

Look away from me drug takers and money makers

My bodies own severity will claim whatever reward I have waiting

The rustling of the trees becomes a mesmeric hum

Gentle rattle of the library cart

A squeak from

Down the lift shaft.

Open to awake dream of the crystal eye

Hand drawn under a heavy-lidded eye

The blood is thick and lazy

A heaviness threatens to engulf us

What is this wish business?

It is about engagement with ideas for their own sake that keep us going

Forget the competition we can leave them behind

The less we know about them the better

A large honey bee hive in a cavity wall makes the internet

The story is revealed over several layers of advertising

The creatures don’t care they adapt make the best of a situation

They don’t see a house just a home

Our lives could come to an eradicable halt

A rethinking is the evolutionary thought

The revolutionary thought too, look at what that r brings 

Move towards a better tomorrow that has always been the plan

And in this way the future sustains the past, the past being now

There it goes again

Voices from the street below uncommonly quite today

Recalling the clusters of enormous trout thrashing in the shallow water near

The edge of the canal

The Munt Jack dear glimpsed in hollows of light beams down through the forest canopy slipping in and out of vision

the swifts that scream for joy beyond words cascading in the updraft 

the streak of green parakeet, they too make a lot of noise

in thinking about these friends and relations is there an answer to the oversight

of who made the decision to work against it? 

Maybe I made this decision today this morning

what is predetermined about progress? 

Our actions evolve but not for best survival, they cost us all.

What course of action to take

The aporia of ending

Can you carbon date it the shifting

Watery tidal time span

Exploding molecules organism algal larvae in a microcosm of a tiny pond

What happens down there also happens up here

Looking back up out of the swamp 

Then further a satellite image of the broiling mass

Marvel at it the Whole Earth 

Now this was the shift right?

The wholeness of it right there, knowing this changed it all

A40 M40 01/06/2019

(contracted to return)

Taking a frightening turn over slept on thoughts becoming 

now. Aligned without bizarre face coaxed from blur hazard ahead

slippage in the fast lane resulting in three lanes blocked.

Can we become something new out of this? Is it all there is to

ask. New questions face improbable litany of voices, vices break loose

to hammer back at the facial recognition enhances memory games that sweat the

gravel track back to consciousness. After tired and tested weakness on a local run can 

surmount what thought may be best possible outcomes. Many were engaged in this a quest to go back and find the most satisfying forest dwelling thought possible to entertain uprisings in the body cell.

It’s the time of creak and groan. Swinging out across three lanes overhead Red Kites.

The road now a mass of broiling carriages each its own hot house of coalescing rage and sublime kindness that knows itself only by a definition that is the opposite of death.

Common ground is what we are searching for place mats garbage disposal less plastic these concerns. If it transpires that they were right all along then a solid strata of chicken bones will fulfil a billion-year legacy. Thanks for listening.

Your breaking up the past again

At night after hours smashing it to bits

Plaster boards flailing dust smash gasp thump ridiculous

And the smoke from below hits the back of your throat

Choking half asleep broken in dreams broke awake not one place to escape to but

This rotten imagination that offers an open door saying run from this prison escape now while you’ve got the chance because the body is a prison too and it won’t last long

Other more optimistic people would say I’m wrong but they are just deluded we all know that

the flower analyst responds to accusations of brutality

The pain of life is a reflection of your indifference to death it is special nurture it coax it feed it grow it sow it stow it. Use your blowhole like a spirit guide shove your spume into the world each time you resurface grabbing what you can for the descent back down again into the daily depths of the oceans dark dominion or something like that obviously try to suggest a greater good a spirit leading towards what you might suggest could be a thing that will save your mind from neurological tremors and thought whips that lash and sting the minds horizon with indigenous poisons that roughly unfurl into luxurious purple gasses like the ones in Batman from the 1960’s.

Within the silent second of a breath

Is the thingness of the thing

Shiny enticing glimpses

That make your heart beat faster

Not knowing anything 

Knowing everything about a small nothing

Glad to be on this spot now knowing everything and nothing all at once

Like breathing 

Is a miracle

Like the moth still alive in a pack of spinach

We survive 

But our bodies weakness is the enemy of consciousness

If art puts truth to work then the body is art and the truth is the work of life

But what does that grinding of stone signify?

The need to dwell? To remain in one place, in order to work, is this the truth you were looking for. Sat staring out on the wettest day of the year

The rain tears over the roof.

BREAK HEELS CLOP CLOP

Into a head spring barrow ball of great strong winds and time

Bends into the wind also you know

But what are we communicating here? Who will know this when 

We are gone long for to take time back upset alarmed and furious with

The weather strong like fresh baked bread smells form 

The under pass and where is my copy of Adrienne Rich and

Will it do to just read some Frank this week and will the knees hold out too

And really you shouldn’t start smoking weed again not at this time of life

Ah there she is next to D.T. Suzuki, Marx and Beckett, some party that would be

Hold fast for the arriving birds

Hold fast for your arriving omelette

And hang on to your soupy pulsing brain brow that flickers like a light bulb

Just about gone because as complicated and cultured as it all is

We are just adjusting to death at each microbial twitch of this passing flicker of awake dream called life

Inside the blood soup of molecules cells are jumping

Music makes them swim faster and the red green blue crystal colours that can be seen when they cut you open will spill up into the air when you jump for joy

Or fling yourself of the highest board slithering down 

Into the water the greatest sensation

Of Earth knowledge .