I wish I were the Master of Peace,

there'd be no tears of war, no suffering, no grief.

No evil, No corporations, No governments and No Police.

I wish I were the Master of Pain,

For it's such a sweet, pleasurable learning.

No anger, No shame.

I'd teach those who exploit, that our life is not your gain.

I wish I were the Master of Place, 

I'd spread my wings from ag...

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Tired

of taming lions,

of dark, eyeless mileage,

of piloting this wondrous ark,

of you.

of dim-heart-riots

rotting fleshy timber,

of all the cages - rusting through 

and through..

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To lose yourself whilst everyone forges their own image of you,

Conforming to societies norms in order to see life through. 

Do you succumb and forget the part of yourself which you once true?

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Another New Year’s Morning.

Smoked and smooth-whisky aged brain with a stab in the right temple.

Start as you mean to go on.

The primary glee of proverbial blank slates fresh starts new year new me           (new you, hopefully)

Rubbing my hands together and over the smooth cream pages of 2021

Ready to splatter in powder paint blue red yellow black pink pink pink..

A Ne...

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From birth to 53

I was told work set you free

To earn those choices

A house and a car

The girl of my dreams

A pension to stretch far

Work hard for the man

Don’t look for a sham

If you do you might see

Them laughing at me

The crumbs they allow

Because you disavow

Your instinct and soul

You’ve scored an own goal

To please the big boss

He doesn’t give...

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I will

play my harmonica haphazardly.

make a joke with no one to laugh but me.

improv a jazz song to my cat Curry.

take a photo of what’s right in front of me.

I am not a product.
 

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We live in a society of sanitized brutality.

Austerity increasing exponential wealth disparity, despairing for community. 

Who has put a price on life to ration out a tiny slice,

and grip us in their vice, disguised as moral order righteousness? 

Pretenders to the throne, to throw us only scraps and bones. 

The corporations profit all by raised invoice and taxes slashed,

as ...

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Galileo once said the earth was round.
Round and round we go.

Why do we cling to broken things.
Round and round we go.

I had a dream it was truth.
Round and round we go.

One small step for man. One giant leap forward for mankind. Forwards and backwards.
Round and round we go.

The rise and fall of rome. High tides, low tides flow back to the sea
Round and round we go.

This god, ...

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What bid the upper spheres to roll

about our grandly tomb of space,

in wild misanthropic patrol

propelled by some unknown faceless grace,

the same who bids all landless work?

for wage sustaining slavery,

and fashion law that government dirk

to prolong their own sad tyranny,

all this we must endure without tears

upon our once bright aeolian hearts,

where anxieties...

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Pound shops and takeaways,

salons for grooming of

dogs and their owners

sit side by side.

Rancid fat acrid

in back alley junk piles,

settees and Christmas trees

slowly decay.

Damp homes

in damp climate

for cotton mill workers

no longer needed.

The forest of chimneys

now superseded

by new build in miniature,

room sizes shrinking,

l...

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https://youtu.be/68Q0PUSxn2I

Canaries in the mine.

Kids that cut themselves. 

New mums on Prozac, 

Calpol poured down tiny throats.

Twelve year olds try ketamine

(already smoking weed).

Prepubescent boys

ask to drink girl’s pussy juice.

‘Mum, what does he mean?’

A teenage girl has overdosed.

Everybody’s glued to screens.

Can anybody see 

canaries in the ...

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The Making Of A Worker.

The lorry tips its rubble

On the road outside our house,

the privet hedge engulfed

in a primordial cloud of dust,

it drives away in chugging glee

having spilled its heavy load

and we stand and watch it go

as the carbon mountain settles.

The sergeant-major father

barks his orders at the troops

and our little hands clasp tight

the...

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Hit the homes of the less, Hit the SCUM of the projects, Drop a few bombs in the Sub Culture Urban Market, target the future smokers, smoke the future dealers, pull up in them vans, hand out vans and a few packs of cigs, Fact 79 the name of the game, selling the idea of a pack newports, over the idea of packing for cruises to lands on new ports, grandmamas got them, baby cousins watchin', second h...

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I wasn't dead,

just never alive

Turner Prize

gold medal

all for a dive.

A dyspraxic in a speedboat

as I struggled to swim

in shark infested waters

but I won't let them win.

The rewards of success

for creating a mess

an unmade bed

for an economy's left.

People can study

and some even praise

others are starstruck

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