Santa’s zombies get the message

going in the other direction

writing new lines in a taxi

hiding all the mince pies from the Art Guild

And this isn’t really a poem but it is something

I had to write

Only the dead eat off the page

zombie kids rule INNIT

Grim becomes miserable

Judge the poets in the cardboard box

Santa banned from Stockport for eating

...

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Locate the source of the timebomb girl

back in the boneyard of strange events

a cargo of coffins

the dead unmoored from their resting bays

In the bone yard of writers we laughed

as only poets can do, and then make notes.

An emotional time-bomb is the deadly thing

Shadows sharp and black Lovers who sing

with heartbeats sucking in the air

panting like old dogs

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Frowning ghost eyes a dreaming youth

Lost youth eyes an unforgiving clock

And the taxi waits for the Stockport poets

As eyes stare out from the broken hotel

Then the music plays another song by Cher

The men just sit and spit

With boneyard blues he drinks the wine

and tips the glass

Too early for Cher in the muffled hours

of poverty.

Bone yard grave tho...

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Sharp eyes gleam from yeasty bread

Suspenseful stars trick savage horses

Sephardic interlopers run thru the hallways of life;

tears are driving their day

creating my own judgement day again

All the world is weeping for the broken dreams

A distant ghost wandering the wilds

closing down behind us

Thinking grim thoughts on dark grim nights

Folding the piece ...

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Waltmarie
The fallen unpeopled hallways of life

Do you like marmite?

where did all the grim go? 
Something new to fear beneath the four poster bed
Daughters of despair wait for the hirsute man with the large teeth 
and a penchant for Moonlight Sonata.

Do you like Marmite?

The jukebox unplugged but Beatle songs 
still  haunt the tired rooms.

counting yesterdays over the shadows 
...

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A deepening metal slashes dust

Sentenced to death youth’s dream that may one day

seize the day

A clamped unicycle soaked with

the rain of callous words.

Crushed by hobnail boots

Bags packed inside my head

going round the wall of death

Love as Morse Code; living in different postcodes

The rain of callous words

and anguished flowers fading

in the ...

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And Arkansas brought dentistry

to Catherine the Great, by way

of a heroin overdose

When pa was a dentist ma was music

promised and forlorn

a phantom takes an Uber to the

sun... it's got to be done.

Without a bitch he had a brew

Best was over the moon

but flew too close to the sun

The Titan tourist board say

'Don't come here!'

In the park, wit...

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Sky diving on the table

Like a swooping peregrine

Kidnapped and held between the jackals

            and vultures at his side

Trying to grow up, I lost my

            youth… I left it on the

sun-dappled wall

I watched the tail-lights of

a ghost ship on Godwin Sands

The cacophony of the engagement party

My heart sank like a rock

A single sex toilet s...

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The only way to

save this planet

is to call in The Unicorns

goin’ fishing

the bus station

without the garden

roof

we look with others

but think alone

he met himself

coming back and

the unicorn said

“Are you horny?”

arboreal, alliterative

unicorns to buses

tell it like it is,

colouring as you pass

descriptive House of Magi...

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A trawl of brawling sailors drown

            The captain’s thundercloud

A writer’s hat that lights

            Up in the dark

The flash of a photographer’s eyes

The eternal exhibition of white walls

Lines of lamplights on the edge of a field

            Stand vigil for sodden sheep

Seven seconds after hours

            Too many ghost faces

Prayers in eternity ...

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Wash my hands, you bad friend

A doctor remedies the ills of Google

In the Arcade of lust and art, he was

lost, and blinded once outside by the

shadows in the Stockport sun.

With pulsating memories of a shadow in the sun

arcade ecstasy leads to arcade fire

there’s a retro revolution in the suburbs

Gary built a huge bird’s nest and

waited for the feathe...

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Restless spirit casts off his friar’s robe

And steps into the fatal arms of love

Let the wound bleed out all the bad blood

From the shadow monk

Lost hippy dancer takes a drug

To take her back but she is now 73

And no one looks anymore

Monks are too Friary

Mary Hopkins put her slippers on and

Whispered to Mao Zedong – put your

Hand in here and start a re...

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