In a melee of menacing metal 

two old lovers hobble 

tentative they dance through traffic

he leading her

one hand embracing the other

Decades they have danced 

seen enemies come and go

across these troubled streets

barely looking

Back then 

the metal flew

though not borne by wheels

and how they danced fearless

They reach the pavement

and he ...

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Come the revolution

there’ll be bullet holes in the wall

and stains of brains that mattered

but didn't matter to us all

We’ll fly our flags

and burn the rich

and sing our songs

and burn the rich

and right their wrongs

and burn the rich

and take their wealth

and launder it

and to the poor 

might give a bit

but they wont know 

how much of it

we’ll...

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Sometimes its just bollocks

all that existential meaning

see them nodding and chin stroking

“Oh how we feel just what your feeling”

Whether raking up cut grass

or walking a mongrel dog

they’re in another class

if you don’t get it, you’re clearly not

Their genius so well disguised

you might question its existence

to challenge isn't wise

its merely peasantr...

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He could only be magnanimous

if the consensus was unanimous

even then he preferred anonymous

he was better than the lot of us

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The bliss of no decision’s

giving liberty to judge,

is often worthy of derision

when accompanied by fudge.

A misinterpretation

purposefully dealt,

emits a waft of bullshit

as the turds of liars melt.

As amusing as it is

an aggravation to the truth,

accusers degrade to sewage

upon requesting any proof.   

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In giving credence

is there not

a little surrender?

the sign

on the door

is a gender

bender

I’m Jesus

in the temple

with the 

money lender

and the pathway 

of a life

has no 

return

to sender

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Humility is not welcome

in my imagination,

it is outcast.

Though be sure not to patronise me,

I am the shining star

in the firmament 

of my own

baby crib mobile.

Invictus

I, the Captain of my soul

which effectively out-ranks you,

row proletariat row,

get me to the next village

they’re short an idiot.

All the world's MY stage

and you merel...

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method wanker

he’s living the part

pouring himself in

he’s got a head start

he’s an oscar 

in waiting

a bafta

no doubt

and when 

he accepts them

its wanker they’ll shout 

and he’ll smile

like a fool

and accept it

with grace

because he 

is the wanker

with more than

one face

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All pigs are pigs

all hacks are hacks

Apply this logic

then stand right back

All black is black

all white is white

In the gulf between

you’ll lose your sight

and just might drown

in what you’ve sewn

by dumbing down

all that’s known

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Applauding rain

battered the tin roof,

as he

battered her.

In his mind

playing to God,

the voyeur

of his madness.

The widows rattled,

moist air rushed in

to sooth his blooded back.

With gritted knees,

and bedevilled eyes

he dressed,

not looking back

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It seems

to me

those beasts 

upon the crest,

The Lion

and 

the 

Unicorn

One near extinct,

the other 

never born.

Are a little 

like a metaphor

for what never was

and what

may never be.

Somewhat like a Brotherhood

that extends,

from 

Sea 

to

shining Sea

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It started with filthy Cossacks

vodka fuelled with much betrayal

Back into Malaysia

somewhat blurred by Mau Mau screams

burn the fucking forest down

we’ll kill them while they dream

Then all the way from The Falls

bodies sealed in Glenshane peat 

Then Friedrichstraße

lucky strikes

and feet cold stamping streets

those Russian alcoholics

so unguarde...

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How to write poetry manuals

How sad are they?

That so desperately seeking

You’d take time from the day

To give credence to what

The accepted might say

To sit in a room

And think it away  

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Just write

Reserve the explanation

No need for all to know

The roots of your creation

Save us self analysis

We wont think any more of it

That mind induced paralysis

Some may prefer less bullshit

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Poetry site hacked

Surplus words stolen

Nobody

Fucking noticed

Until sentences started making sense

Owners stated

They are prepared

To soak up the loss

As most of the stolen scribble

Is completely worthless

Police have imposed

A Full Stop.

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DNA creates monsters

Monsters who seek expression

They find a valve

Irrespective of politics

War creates opportunity

For horror

And for its conquest

War creates Pacifists

Not monsters

Everyone should try it

First hand

Instead of watching it 

On TV!

War is not the past

War is now

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At a recital

The other night

I had to restrain

With all my might

From wiping my arse

On the written shite

That was spouted from

Mouths so vain, so trite

I took myself

Away from that place

Full of whisky

Full of disgrace

And flushed my ego 

Down the pan

I just can’t bear 

To be that man

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To Prater Park in November

Cold and stark, 

Damp in his bones

Wandering from Zentralfriedhof

Stripped branches clawed grey skies

Meeting her at the Riesenrad

Coffee to fortify ragged nerves

At the Cafe Central

Old ladies with little Dogs

All their boyfriends were blond

Muscled Teutonic Knights

Oma eyes him and tips a wink

The only blond blue eyed Jew

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Poetry

Well who knows what it is

It seems to me

It isn't merely making a statement 

And then retreating

I mean thats just lighting a firework

Isn't it?

Any way if I am wrong

The greatest line ever written

Must be

Fuck Off!

Which is not at all poetic

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