I walked all afternoon until the sun cracked a thing more fragile than a face 

I saw them on their phones always waiting for love

like it was a strange gossip

I've stopped walking to write a sudden thought poem 

the thought gets lost in the process

I cross the river and bathe my feet

Writing on the hoof is prone to typos

I watch tourist map to there destinations

Being alone...

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Tendrils of stars crawl the dark,

the night clouds glide in the solitary scent of lonliness: our dreams caress our alienated bodies

Then i figet through abandoned works

sleeping for an hour then awake again

the poems have no shape

the blackbirds chant in the peaceful air

The sun is planning to return

Life is filled with beautiful music

Do not listen for the sounds of time

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In the nightmares of modern life

I realise the fututre is already here 

lives becoming data turning in machines

In the dross of algorithms

the silent influencers of night

advertising boards flashed in your minds eye

artificial light disturbing the sleep

fake love a swipe away on a broken screen

In the timely loss of passions

signing in to hollow optimism

kiss my disil...

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I shy at bookshelves 

drink tea outdoors alone

stare at sculptures that eat the silence 

as the pale lady skims her phone for meaning 

small texts and grubby butterflies 

enter different world's. 

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That can not be a hour that vanished into kisses 

watching the moths snuggle around a fake moon

curtains scratched by cats and stars

a glimmer in crinkly hair 

on waves and winds

as I get lost in the sadness of the song

the blues lament 

morning is floating between gold light streams

I have devotion for things that fly 

I feel like Picasso proving that he can still draw ...

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Things

take

form

metaphors

and

music

scores

vignettes

inside

a

television

set

a

riff

on

a

broken

guitar

a

checked

table

cloth

windows

letting in

light

a

drunk

moth

a

strange

monologue

but

not

about

love

we

are thrown

together

into

a

beautiful

hesitation

of

words

your

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He

walks

on

four

paws

a

social

carnivore

these

creatures

form

true

friendships

rather

than

digital

acquaintances.

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Delicious

sky

moody

clouds

tell

your

troubles

to

the

moon

the

stars

are

sweet

fish.

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The time

inside

the

dream

is

not

time

itself

the harmonic

change

of

the seasons

autumn

is

a feeling

the romance of dogs

and the dream

of

bones

through

the

gaps

of

truth

dream songs

echo

the

sky flashes

the

yearning

music.

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There is a Goldfinch

singing

on 

my 

aerial

on

roof

above

the

town

I am

truly

blessed

the

Victorians

used

to 

keep them 

in

cages.

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Love and lust,

you will pay

for

all of

this

you don`t need all 

this

clutter,

What matters is the smile

you

naturally

have

everyday.

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What you dream

is sometimes

the sky

Inside your

thoughts

you

dream

good

and

all

the demons

drive

fast

flashy

cars.

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I was buying

some things

I needed

and was

2p short

of 

my groceries

but

the

lady

gave

me

2p

out

of

her own

purse

hurray

for

kindness.

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These towns 

have a beauty

When the rain

falls

and the

sun

lights

the

edges

These towns

where the 

locals

frown.

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The sky full of crying clouds,
a bird in the wet of a tree
a splash of air , speckled with
rain. Maybe I’ll get drunk
watch the rain through a window,

for half of the day only,

Dreaming time for daydreamers,
and refuge in the pub to sit, and watch
the drunks, as the mind gets
pickled, the surface lips of love
are glossy pavements and naked skin,

on the sheets of love. The wine

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Poem for now

Where we walked is now houses,

Only the road is the same,

The road the colour of sky,

Where the eyes impatient kissed

and behind the gauze of such

thoughts

are minds drift into

a poem for now

the volcanoes coughing up

it`s fire of now

We wait for the mountain to renew a

song of now,

The birds sing like feathered

pr...

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Play Classical for

me

every movment

a stealth

symphony

hear the colours

in a spectral

wave

play string quartets

sonatas

piano concerto`s

play

serenades

as the emotions to

tuck in and

behave

play Bach

for me

for the strings of the

stars

connect me to the

noise of

the

cosmos

introduce my

ears

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Where we read

The literary moth flitters around

the books people never read

Moments of joy may be written

inside these deserted pages

So many searching souls

Soft winds trawling through the

sky

of love again

I become a sometimes poet

dip into a piece of writing

the literarty who published

everything - want...

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Was it  sweet

alienation?

awkward shyness?

or being failed

in-love

dreaming of olive

boughs

romance

and greasy kisses

at the chippy

maybe suburban

gloom

or was God involved?

the blister of

adolesence?

my nervous disposition?

or spending

too much

time in my

bedroom cacoon

on

the estate

locked in thought

o...

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Through the Hi-tech telescope-

the universe is flat

a skin of stars

an armour of light

there`s always a tap leaking

somewhere in the minds

imaginings

the spirits in another

time

bluebirds flying

in your sleep 

God plays piano

you singe your mind

with dreams

huddle your eyes to mine

through the hi-tech telescope the universe

is flat

just like

the planet

we love.  

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I see the storms in you

seeking words

in the loch of cloud

sweet air flowers

rain on the horizon

the reborn song

every dawn 

all the moments writing

in the mind

days weeping in shadows

love waits deep in the eyes

bond of feathers on the bouquet of air

I see the storms in you

everyday a battle

within

thoughts a soak

on the winze  

the sky dreamers cloak

beautiful flight

swallow ...

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Astronomic light wakes me

in the visible dawn,

clear of the surf of cloud,

the words just knew of every poem

hiding in the core,

the words woke me again,

clawed me from my sleep like mad cats wanting to be fed,

the words woke me again like the sun waking the sky of you,

beyond the dream,

beyond the ghost,

beyond the world,

beyond the star,

beyond the spirit,

beyond birth,

the words w...

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Here and there are words, waiting to become

mirrors of you, sounds of your vanity,

the words are never enough to satisfy

the love of which you are longing,

This beauty in the tenderness of a face

within the heart of a flame,

The time-signature of your emotion

on the emptiness of the page,

I dreamed among the lakes and mountains

happy in the complexion of a landscape,

Between the sky and ...

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A balloon is drifting up past the terraced trees

into the blue freadom of air, it pauses to catch

the invisble flow that bounces it in a jitter,

I stand and study this flight: this idea escaping

to the ether, this dream that floats away with

wild birds and migratory thought.

I watch from the window as it becomes a

decimal point in the distance of poem. 

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the bird has rich feathers

on the gold of air...

delicate flight becomes the wind 

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New words as old as wood

I love you as best as i could

streets above the world

we walked the air

stood and saw the world

as if we where children again

in the atmosphere of love

brighter than moonrise

we stored the light of

peace in the eyes

of all the

stars

as we counted

and made

a wish. 

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You could make my whole world

so so bright

If you just stopped farting in bed

and turned on the light

whilst i am trying

to read Bukowski

on my side of

the bed.

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I SHAPE THE ALPHABET EVERYDAY

as if it was clay

of a luminous day

in my mind i mold

 the inner me.

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I have studied the words,They are just

like jazz presevered in the tonal air,

Let the language find your soul,

Play the trumpet of your voice,

Find that melody in the sea of streets,

Dance a little,

Wait to the sound floats,

Write in the half-light of the page,

The words will entertain you when

your soul gets lonely,

Drift among your senses.

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Above the moonlike

glow of everything fickle

come the glazed insects

of a frozen night

flagged into a zig zag

path

of the transparent bowl

in the scoop of light

the tinted world

of all that shines

worlds beyond the garden

glow

they are reading

insect literature

while bats are swooping

dusk in blind desire

and sonar

in the orange

aurora

on the old paper

in the sunset flux

of p...

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The gongs and drums

of the mind are in a rhythm,

the moon is light in the blossom,

raindrops descend

like pearls,

sleek clouds ride the wind

into forever,

wet trees flit and fro

like noble beings

to patterened pitter,

the river and me

sit in the blue brush

of the road of sky for flight

for only sacred birds,

the rain falls

lightly 

into

a fine mist,

I see your drunk eyes

lost ...

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At the wayzgoose the zoftig

became zoonist,

His sawder words had procerity,

the plap of poems lost in the nullibiety,

On the remicle of language,

there was  lots of slubberdegullions

roaming lost like me,

Try to resipiscence,

Sawder the verse,

To frisco into the light.

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If you like words

just write 

read them to yourself in lonely hours of night

let ideas explode in your

brain

write everyday through the rain and melancholy

until you go temporarily insane

piss in the sink

every now

then.

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the deluded astronaut, the green eyed friend, the blagger,

the salesman, the red faced drunk in Wetherspoons,

layman preacher, swinger, singer of  slurred songs, word napper,

the all round general bullshitter,the fredian tongue slipper,

wideboy conversation tricker, the Chav in the cap,

blood sucking hippie lost on a map , the affluent liar,

he sometimes plays acoustic guitar in town or city

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After we watched the night cloud

set into the concrete of silence

in the hour when souls play

truant in the dirt of the winds

battling in the coil of minds

where light escapes higher

planes the place

where the words overcome

the fear

and the scorch of the mundane

days stolen by the pounding

routine

where nature fleers my

thoughts in every

rise of the sun

beyond the stars

and the t...

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The words are in off-set type

refrains in my brain

the words always complain

nag at the alphabet

for a meaning in

this fragility

this isolating

self

this

creativity

on the nib

of

pen.

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This language is floating

in the eye 

waiting for the flourish

in the spindrift 

the barb of letters

grated from alphabets

feasting on asparations

mocking our betterselves

to build a temple of words

in the mind

along the rain roads and dirt skies

watching the melancholy of shadows

window tree of summers blossom

rook and crow talk like men

in the dislocation between

thought and objec...

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Outgoing thought

spring heels into the machine

the lean of incandesence    

the tadpoles are growing tails

in the mesh of pond

pine cones open in pockets

racks of slaked lime cloud

like dustly pillows

glittering jackdaws make nests in stone

towers

the stars lie down on the eyelids of night

hand blur of words

the ink hisses across the page

I see the blotch of sun on the outscape

of a ...

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Let us try

to pause the mind

unwind the dizzy eyes

sing a song for calm

and just listen

to the silent music of the stars

to the overture of the moon

to the speech of the seasons

to the symphonies of the sea

let the sunset flow

between you and me

rest the words in a poem

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The winds curve the trees here,

Oxidizing in the decades of rust

coppery branches sprawl,

Climbing clouds heavy and grey

carry rain somewhere else,

With hands in the soil and

the standing horizons of sarcen,

The land demonstrating its worth

as a part of a language,

The earth to be aware of itself

ploughing through time and history,

The buzzard boosting its wings

drenching its feathers ...

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As the moments click within the corridors of time

the hungriest gestures of a smile

the shutter opens in the cloud

the aperture of light breaks into day

birds brood in your sleep

voices from the haunted world

carcass of stars

like the bones of night

shine upon the face

in the tremble of enlightment

the thoughts between the pen

running into light

the inner dwelling of the universe

plan...

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the flat horizons of television screen

haunts the eyes

we got bored and stretched diagonals into circles

watched the wind style the hair

dreamt of travelling 2.5 billion light years away

wrote haikus in the dust

listening to the music that shakes the heart into love

drinking tea in the asylum

counted the magpies with superstition

watching the clock blemish time

wrote a hypothesis of angl...

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The sky is on your page,

As the wind howls in your mind,

And there`s change in your corner of the universe,

Through the buds of time you are floating,

In the overflows of blue skies,

The words are your hunger,

Escaping in the threads of the dream,

And the poem is the brains tide stretching,

Where the words flow in a sound spurring

the soul to love,

As battles begin within ourselves. 

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I watched you leaf through the cumulus of yesterdays thoughts,

There`s a happiness missing as the smile plays truant,

Your mind crawls between the web dust and into the

cosy corner of books,

An implacable eye seeks the details in the emptiness of pages,

The stars will explain a bit of mystery for you,

Drifting into-the-wide-blue-yonder the wind throw`s

it`s howl,

torn pieces from a dr...

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The sea is a hoarder tipping it`s gathered quatrains in the wash

the shadows have sunk on Rum,

Oystercatchers whistle along Laig bay,

where all i need is sea air

as the words banner out

the sea  has unevenly calmed me,

Offering me it`s chatter in the swell and split

of it`s christening tongue,

I remember how it once read me a poem. 

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