Whatever you've done today

It doesn't matter now, the sign states

its time for a parade 

for the tiny tippy tappers to escapade

You've seen the sights

Blinded by all the flashing lights

You've filled the senses with a pungent repulse

Tollerated the tube and the intolerance

Now you're back to the place of dreams

Where walls and ceilings go bump in the night

H...

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Commuters pirouette,

and trade positions, in

dance off thousands

on London stations.

Tourists saunter in

markets and shops,

while busy workers

improv, move,

and never stop.

Mamils hygge

in Lycra clothes,

aim their bikes

to rumba

right over your toes

and samba,

swing, and jive, to

skim potholes and

the slow shuffle

of the c...

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Rolling down to london on a train,

the taught and shining buds

of Spring are bursting on the trees.

Wharfedale’s misted in a bluish haze,

but heaps of plastic refuse in the woods

on the drab periphery of Leeds

descend my mood from buoyancy to pain.

Rolling forwards now, the rape fields blaze

and blackthorns bloom with pearls,

resplendent in the boundary hedges

we...

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South on the map 

Google maps app 

A city were royalty base

Big Ben the clock 

10 downing Street mob

Fast living then this is your place

The rarest of sounds  

They got underground 

They busk to the beat of the trains

Night foxes roam 

The streets are now home

Upon primrose hill daisy chains

Rappers and chanters 

Camden stall banters 

A plate full the hung...

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And why are you still in my head? 

In my chest,

In my soul?

Engulfed by disdain, disgust and love.

And I am so lone.

In the middle of Oxford Street crowds

I want your advice that never helped

I want your forehead kisses that I rejected.

Longing for you on dark silent nights.

To debate: am I ever truly alone?

Or does your phantomlike presence ignite and guide...

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A billion light years away from now

Seems to be our last mutual smile

A billion more miles away

Is were we could stay

In a kiss 

So missed

For which I pray

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We circle as sharks
on the Hyde Park winter rink
our eyes like lasers
I audibly bleep when they meet

We both go forwards
not getting anywhere
we pass with differing intervals
I only breathe when we pass

Some laps are flawless
some laps are clumsy
some laps I nearly take some sucker down
some laps I kiss the ice

I feel your eyes lift me to my feet
I feel them brush the slush from...

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Mr Reel-Fogg came home exhausted after a hard day of talking. Those green leather benches were so confoundedly uncomfortable and one could never recline in peace.

After a brief attempt to assist Mrs. Reel-Fogg to achieve her ambition of having twelve children he fell into a deep sleep.

Around one thirty in the morning there was a confounded noise outside. He sent Mrs. Reel-Fogg to investigat...

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London

means Abandon

No inibition

No frustration

No coalition

You wake up one day and without any sense

you're not sure if you love it or you're tense

Could be addiction

to the city's emission

if you're lucky, tuition

but oveall a sort of contrition

You want to be in that rollercoaster because it is actually a damn ride

but after that you won't be able to hide.

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At dream’s end 
we let the water flow
accepting
resolved

At dream’s end
loosening our grip
hold the best bits
release the scenes that never came

I imagined endless parties
some intangible heart that I could puncture
I imagined so much more
turns out it’s just another place 
moving at a heightened pace

Now I sit quietly
by the chequered flag
grateful to have run
chest heaving
...

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There is a time

channel mists behind, we sit at anchor for the tide

then in the early hours the Thames pilots board

and - slowly for the mist still lingers close to land -

we move up river reaches, take tugs and find our lock

to gently nudge our way between the barges

until we are tied up again in Albert's dock,

derricks swung and hatches open -

and I am free

Again,...

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Black steel

curling wrought iron

balustrade

Beneath me

coffee steam

and noise

rise

and a poet

sits talking

animatedly

his foot jiggling

as he gesticulates

outside

autumn sun

shines on wet roofs

and casts

tree shadows

on house walls

outside

the sea is rising

while

London sinks

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no talk
i was with my mate going to work
when i saw the couple on the bus
they were young and in their 20s
he had mousey hair and she was blond
they were taking time out

and travelling in the philippines
she was finishing her teacher training
and he was a soldier between deployments
while i was commuting to work 

in the city to my bpo job
we talked in my head
not in the real world

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I casually looked up 
from flicking through some book
and saw the way you stood
hell, we'd better look alive
while we've got the time

You met me by The Globe
the whole world waiting with bated breath
"are you in?" you purred
o, I'm in...

For one night only, we blew along the Southbank
I kissed you by the wheel
kissed you deep within the shadows
a thousand lights tied in the trees

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Air Worthiness

The Harris hawk is sleek and fast; fine-boned,

she swoops free from an armoured glove

towards some distant, perfect perch,

only then to see and hear the falconer's call; to search,

then sweep down to the hand that feeds and nurtures.

A hooded hostage; in restless freedom she presents a bleeding dove.

Trimmed hawks hunt in packs on Argentine pampas...

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Veering through Northern valleys
Nocturnal nomad chasing lights
Squinting through misty glass at
Solitude
Rural black
Hills rising raucously
Perfidious silhouettes whispering
Shadows looming
GPS. Reroute. M1. 
Settings were fucked - avoid motorways? 
No wonder

Back to the linear path
Diving towards the sprawling metropolis
Hours to go.
Adjusting frequencies -
The Wind Cries Mary.
...

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I have a fear of fire.

I have a fear of height.

I have a fear of being trapped alone

On my life's very last night.

I have a fear of towers.

I fear the way they sway.

The way the wind's wicked whispers

whistle past with far too much to say.

I fear some in high places.

I fear they do not care.

I fear they lack compassion

I can smell it in the air.

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Life's a game of take & give 
Just tell me how did it come to this? 
They walked their way into the abyss 
But I see no flowers, on the bridge? 

The laughs, the screams  
The night, far from your dreams 
A city bows as it continues to live 
But I see no flowers, on the bridge?

The sirens call and the thunders rolls
In a stranger, solace unfolds
How can your story ever be told?
But n...

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In 'our land', 
which retains its leafiness, 
despite how unseasonably 
a fine few are fallen.

Just beneath fury's fierce flame;
our city's many bridges
a metaphor for so much more
defiantly stand still.

I pray today, it's not just me
who hears them screaming silently
'To join together is our fate
we will not hate, we will not hate.'

4.06.17

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Villiers Path: Scalloped Time is the second chapbook published on my Seethingography imprint, part of Sampson Low Publishers Ltd. I will be reading from this, for the first time, next Saturday, 20th May, at The Flying Horse Cellar Bar, 6 Oxford Street, London. The event is FREE and runs from 7pm - 8.30pm.

This is as part of an event to launch David Russamano's first chapbook, (Reasons for) Movi...

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When day falls down

be mine

for the night

passes by.

You choose which

way we run

I can't choose more than one.

You got no sleep but I found my belief,

I found my belief.

The Westway's dark.

Please stay, don't fade away

Save us,

lone stars.

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Why you should come to Four London Poets on Saturday Dec 3rd.

Number 1). Deryl Walsh. Deryl has long been one of my favourite poets. She makes the occasional excursion into surrealism, but most of her work is observational, succinct and often very witty. I would be well pleased if she were to include the poem about dining alone in a hotel, and the one concerning a visit to the Festival Hall. Sh...

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Circling the water
one final evening
I catch sight of my reflection
see those lines forming
writ across my brow
so I roll my head in ink
kiss the page…

Soon, we’ll be quietly leaving
no longer anchored in Zone Two
swaddled by the Thames
for an unknown pause we’re going now
The shapeless mess of time approaches
with me, desperately
clawing at relief lines
to understand what gradient
...

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Riding the night train home
you fall asleep, head on my shoulder
I watch our reflection in the glass
watching our reflection
age
improve
converge
expand
as you sleep
on the night train home…

It’s a short walk on a summer evening
a short walk to our place
my arm around your shoulder
pulling you in close
I look up into the sky
deeply
drunken
grateful
expansive
but I see no stars...

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We all hate the government
but what can you do 
just drink in the evening sun
talking with old friends

A little place I know
when our graft is done
we go…

Cobbled streets, thin passageways
snaking pipes embrace the buildings
in the shadow cast by evening sun
standing with good friends

A little place I know
let’s grab a bus
and go…

Who voted 'leave', not one man here
I'll sta...

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In all the world there's nowhere quite

Like London on a soft spring night

When saffron sunset sends its grace

To linger on a much loved face.

 And all around the very air

Thrills with time as if aware

That this great city is the stage

For this and every other age.

So much history...so much done:

So much to tell the setting sun.

.................................

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It’s the final burial ground –

the place where they go to die;

lapping dirt-brown waves;

tourist couples bidding goodbye.

Ships slicing through soundlessly,

as smog adorns the sky.

A pigeon hobbles by on its stump,

while a gull lets out a mournful cry;

beside benches, an old man holds out his cup;

on the cobblestones stands a solitary bride.

A homeless girl leans agai...

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Excavating Aldgate Tube Station (1876)

Underneath the rat infested streets
dead bodies were piled high, row on row.
Enshrouded in their grimy, night-soiled sheets.
- thrown to the devils down below.

Dead bodies were piled high, row on row.
Plague pits rampant all around Aldgate.
Thrown to the waiting devils down below -
unmarked graves meant no one knew their fate.

Plague pits rampa...

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~~The Quiet Compere Tour is 'Supported using public funding by the National Lottery through Arts Council England'

~~Quiet Compere National Tour 2015 – Confirmed Schedule 

Date    City  Venue

Thursday 5th March  Halifax  Bar Up –
(co-host Spoken Weird)
Address: Princess Street, 5 Union Cross Yard, Halifax, West Yorkshire, HX1 1TS

Friday 27th March  Durham The Old Cinema Laundrette

...

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I’m sat in Nero
My mac is absent
But I have tortoise shell specs 
Coffee cups
A pen and pad
Filled with nothing but endless to do lists
Productivity promises
And I’ve just finished a tub of hummus
I think I qualify right?

A wispy voiced limp haired Lolita soundtracks this cliche 
As overpriced
Over spiced
Panini, chai’s and muffin tops
Plonk and plop
On marble topped tables 

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Poem for Bob Crow (cheers W.H. Auden)

Stop all the docks, cut off the trains, 
Start the mariners striking, be still the cranes, 
Silence the busses and with muffled bullhorn 
Bring out the coffin, let the workers come. 

Let politicians circle, moaning overhead 
confessing on the airwaves, He Is RED, 
Put nooses round the white necks of the bosses, 
Let the riot policemen carry their o...

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Her face was peppered with white powder,
The prouder part of her slender frame
Lay still, a weary head on a pillow
By an open window four floors away.
Eyes of glass catch hazed reflections
From the direction of London lamps
Lighting themselves one by one,
But she does not smile at their amber gleam
Whilst the seams of her soul come undone.

Vague melt solidifies natures crime scene.
Unh...

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It started at 100 with a Kiss

and then, at the dial’s heart, another,

with a hissier signal that was easier to miss.

Suddenly those in London who loved a black voice

started to get spoilt by the concept that was Choice!

Djs previously at the mercy of the DTI

were now legal broadcasters to you and I.

It was such a unique and exciting time for us as group,

...

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Stay with me boy we gonna

run tonight

like flies do run

burning after touching the light bulb

stay with me, 'cause  it's an empty and sad little century

i might have tears in my eyes

but i don't wanna see

just don't want to see

Right on time

pain arrived

why would we

stroll apart?

Walk with me now we never

had any time

it...

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The breath had left her, not long ago.
Her face, pressed into the pillow
Drained black tears onto white linen.
Her fight had been lost; the long battle had ravaged her
And her iconic war paint scrawled ironic defeat in tracks
Down her pale skin onto paler sheets.

A motionless husk; as she lays there;
Her raven hair, unravelled from familiarity,
Fall's delicately on her back,
...

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With my acuminous arm
I saved her wretched soul, like the others,
I drew the blood through clotted veins
And lay her down upon the blackness.

I cleaved the meats from her ivory.
He knelt with me and watched her filth, her poison
Pour through the cobbled streets
Into welcoming drains.

Plucked from the cadaver,
Her vessels of virility are no more;
The erroneous allocatio...

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ATOP NELSON’S COLUMN

Windy, cold and grey is the sky. The clouds amass on the horizon,

laden with rain, while a bitter wind drives them towards me.

I have never been so scared here above the earth; I don’t know how I got here,

I only want to get down.

Smoke blackened stone is cold and so alien to my touch, while the ground is far below.

I see people staring a...

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First time he'd ever been,

First time he'd ever seen

imaginations running wild brother,

see it to believe it.

As British as fish and chips

on a sunny London afternoon.

3 way dance or triple threat,

call it what you like but never forget

the joy,

the elation

the anticipation.

As Ligero drives the crowd wild,

the show stealer got robbed

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They dwell in strange rooms
the murky recesses of affordability
barely buildings, bedrooms with sinks
chair pushed up against the door
flakes of lives flung everywhere
A curtain, a quilt - who can really say?

A bare bulb hangs in an open window
no shade inside from day or night
Still lives go on; the rudimentary,
ramshackle, clutching at homeliness
the need for shelter unites us all
...

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In all the world, there's nowhere quite

Like London in the evening light,

When saffron sunset lends its grace

To linger on a much-loved face.

And all around the very air

Thrills with time as if aware

That my great city is the stage

For this and every other age.

So much history, so much done,

So much to tell the setting sun.

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I am hosting and have some great features, Anthony Anaxagorou and HKB FiNN.

Get a chance to discuss the work with the poets, intimately!

Open mic available

https://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=245456218837616

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This is the trailer for Captain of the Rant's Basement Sedition - a series of spoken word and poetry events eevery Friday in October. The line ups are absoloutely fantastic - sixteen brilliant performances over four events in the cosy venue of the Railroad Cafe. Check it out.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MDE2qn5nOg8

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2011 One Love Reggae Festival

A Truthful Dishonor Not about the Reggae

Looking at the future with a smile! Indeed, life is filled with so many struggles so to smile is one of the only options we have as to not go totally insane. The UK 2011 One Love Reggae Festival was held in the location of Hainault Forest County Park, an area in the London Borough of Redbridge in Northeast London. Fo...

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On the 18th of January 1981, 13 young people died in a fire in New Cross, South East London (a fourteenth committed suicide after losing so many friends). Just shy of thirty years on, these are the contemporary reflections of a man who was a seven year old boy at the time. Widely thought to have been a racially motivated attack, more recent advances in forensic technology have suggested o...

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 Hope you enjoy it!

http://raymondantrobus.bandcamp.com/album/raymond-antrobus-spoken-word

Ray. x

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Gigging this week at

RAW GEMS (30 mins) Zenith Bar, London

BEAT, Peter Parkers Bar Soho, London

Rich Mix with Apples & Snakes & Featuring with  TV Smith at the Poetry Cafe, London

Get in touch if you're in town.

I'll do the poem in the audio attachment here as well as my current 'hit' as here:

Boy Toy

I’m happy to be your plaything

A am your sex toy

It ...

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