California by day,

Las Vegas by night,

with flat caps, deckchairs,

and other English sensibilities,

once dying, maybe still,

while trams rattle declaring

sealife promises,

to stargate pleasures,

to Cher and her 'life after love',

entwined with the pulse of a rollercoaster.

Sounds of Saturday football matches,

played hard on soft sand,

menace resting seagull...

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I miss the little things.

My schoolyard friends,

The summer's end,

My childish dreams.

And fear this too

Of tomorrow's day.

When I will say,

Today was full.

If Hope lies ahead

And happiness back,

It can only track

That now is dead.

The present is skiewed,

By what was then,

The future's when,

And how they're viewed.

,

...

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When I started freelance piano

London pubs were my salvation

I cut my teeth on lonely bars

in decrepit streets or bland estates.

Those hesitant efforts of mine rang out

to frame the lager and the stout

with familiar figures in leatherette chairs.

cardigans and flares with afro hairs.

Sleeves rolled up and braced for action

the working man and his satisfaction.

The sti...

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The railway carriage, a lurching labyrinth

of doors corridors people crabbed in passing

had stopped with its locomotive up front

fuming with rage

held back by down signal  on our cage

of viaduct leaning into a curve.

The day boiled, the rails hissed in waiting.

I looked at the street below active

and unaware of us.

Up close the racks and maps, smiling hills in paste...

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Look close, look far

too far?

(too far)

Cars come, cars go

tortured, metal boxes, smudged colours

on tattered tarmac.

Pneumatic drill sounds, distant

hammering, dry clatter

on summer paving.

A man, newspaper

folds and departs kiosk

shimmered in sun.

The calls from traders

I heard them, then

did not hear them

(refused to hear them).

Stepped inside a p...

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Once Upon A Time

Pop wagons
rattling and clinking
with their gaudy shades
of potions slopping.

Coal lorries
groaning up the hill
breathing their dragons breath
of carbon dust.

The aged magik
of a ramshackle
cobblers hut
and the clanging of the last.

The shout of
“Rag and Bone”
echoing down
a Monday morning.

Tobacconist 
selling chocolate cigars
to little mimics
of the...

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Drowse

When there are no mirrors
I am young again
Sitting in the warming glow
of distant years
The aches and pains
will all be gone tomorrow
The days are long
and never seem to grey.
Parents are in another room
just out of hearing
The T.V has three channels
all black and white
Three meals a day
are sitting on the table
The bonfire smoke
creates the evening dusk.

Another time I...

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A sheet of ice on black pavement gleaming

As frost, settled on shrubs, illuminates

A white powder morning and activates

The sound of grass, underneath feet, crunching.

I with my twin brother wander, beaming

Along the path untouched, to what fascinates

The mind of two children and resonates,

Bridging the gap between awake and dreaming.

For brief moments the world was fr...

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