Do not go gently

 

A bath to keep you warm
This
All that retired.

To carry, do my best
Confine such an incidence
In depth of gut and chest
Even yet I still forget.

It fills up again
I lack, I know you back
See below. Sea
Incidence, probability

Inhale all this breath
It.
It made the
I love you

Let him hate till all his angst
Lives out of foot or arm
Love back more than I can share
I wish you well. So vital here.

If this verse should draw acclaim
The many many unslept dreams
The time just goes. Your gentle rose?
The Thames it flows on still.

I put my love in every breathe
Put my love in every step, in every thing
Sing a song I know not yet
Sing of what tomorrow brings.

I Wish it full of sprouts and beans.
But all this through mists is seen.

Step, step there is plenty more
Tell me, tell me please!
Ah, this world not ours to know
Love, sleep and be at ease.

Vital there in all your form
For you will move within storm
Though I was not really warm
I tried to not be of the norm

And of the Norns?
A plectrum, or a bow?

I wonder why?
We all do have your smile
I wonder why
Is that a teardrop in your eye?

Smirk at me
I am ever so, ever so
Silly
I will. I do. So proud of you
I can be less loud too.

And we will jest in happiness
With Nu and T above this mess
We’ve all a service due
New heart, new lungs

Grass with dew, the sign of sun
Oh these new bags of fun
I reckon you can run and run
Well, stroll and stroll

With mind in moment, not some goal.
What the stallion, what the fowl.

How they do stitch up the seams
How you shall ever sing and sing
Our final act is yet unplayed
Any time I made you fret

As only empty vessels can
Please forget and understand

At some time we must  meet for lunch
Blossom forth, least one more year
Quilt brocades of gold, not fear
By your name, the tender hold

Cops dem robbers not to tearaway
And I say

Do not go gently into that good night.

Does it not pique curiosity
To draw. Draw up and paint
Shift a little give complaint
For you bear this all just like a saint

For you have suffered all of this
And not even hit me pissed
Let out a little grumble, rage if you shall
Rage and yes, I feel you still

The light is coming in the doors
Wiggle your toes, wiggle your jaw
It is not yet time
There is more to do

Isn’t there
This is true
There’s more to do
Just another book or two

Maybe half a dozen new
For all your cousins are still due
A present for their reckoning
This great world a beckoning

This new future that will bring
The joy. Or Kiko and of Florin
These young minds alive
We will thrive

Once again to Jazz will Jive
Go play some now
Some LP that tells of youth
Some little jiggle.
One sip, Nephew, Overproof.

These waves come upon me
Know not where I from
Baroda, still strong
I rode an elephant into the sea.

Even if I sometimes storm
Even if this doesn’t scan
Even if we cannot hold
Even if we’ve not been told
This

Far, far better than my best
For my best, is, I suggest
Is in the future not the past
And through and through, all your dues

There must be some who will stay true
There must those with faith anew
They will come through
They will come through

Fettle and in health
For my mettle made for wealth
If not of gold then mind and soul
I could not bear to carry poles

For love that empties as it goes
Just grows and grows
And grows and grows

So I send gone out the gate
How does the world turn of late?
How does the World need us here
I cannot understand.

I cannot, cannot, leave you cold
A shawl about your shoulders still
You know, I know my strength of will.

I didn’t think embarrassment
In front of all your mates
Like bad jokes with dinner plates
I guess grates, on greats

Maybe it is true
I do not feel it is your day
Don’t feel it’s right that way
But hey, we feel brand new.

We must go for a pint
Yes a pint
In cool glass, Long draught (draft, daft)

I feel that it is not your turn
I fought fire with fire. Y
I have a hunch, the serving wench
I know you have the finest nose.

I see a crack upon the plan
It hatches with cartiligious beak
To crack and peak though Calcious
Shell. Well, well, well

I so unread and you unsore
With too much fire to find some more,
Oh there are so many floors
Tell me how does your garden grow?

I till the plough
Seed tomorrow
Tried to be not just pawn
In this pall a shawl keep warm

I will forgo the chamber maid
I will forgo all alms all stale
I will forgo these arms for sale
Will forgo all beyond the pale

I wonder what they’ll make of it
A top 20 hit ?
We could just get a bot
It would make us better.

Don’t go to join with Tariq Mehta
Its meta.
Metaphysics?
I sure did
And it was quizzical
My wizard.

It was magic and thee were spells
They’ll see you well.
Are these many holes?
Is this a bucket on a song?
Not under foot
So yet we sing

Yet we dance with brave love strong
Talk, discuss, debate
I am punctual. But always late
We have time to make this great.

Love this
And embrace
Not this farce, the higher race
Not all these shingle stakes

It makes me giddy, tickles me
And you so much, so strong
Oh how it tingles, how we belong
You will, you will, you will

I would climb for tea to bring
Climb, I would to hear you sing

I, blessed love, I do digress
I have digressed, I do suggest
I’ll say his maths is great
I mean, what would I know any rate.

In fact, actual material fact
Let me do far better.

In much my life I could be no dumber
Let’s not think twice, like last summer
And yet time will dice
If you were right, right all along.

You can laugh and can be strong

At very least wiggle you toes,
Move your feet
Oh how it helps the blood to flow
Oh I know your nose.

I know your nose can’t leave this show
Is the century not made for thee?
It carried me. It was magic
Just like magic

Let me just expand my chest
Bless.
May likes you more than it lifes me
For you write laws, and I just poetry

Me on my knees
Must twist again

My lord,
The weakness in me, upon me
I can only cry apology
I did not know, just how to use me
I did so somewhat incautiously

My love, my dad, the finest friend
No, no, this is not a getaway
Not when all the steps you made
Not when all the world’s a stage

Now let us not be overwrought
Let us take little metal bottle tops
Little metal bottle tops
And nail them upside down on the floor

The tiles will last for ever more
Wiggle, wiggle, your toes and stand
Oh howl I would
Love to make you proud

Its quite a Himalayan hill
Like Stuart Mill
And act of will.
Act of Will

Oh my love, I err
Err, err, so far
So good
I wish I could know what I should

But I have hid with head in hoods
With hoods in hoods
I never did, thought never would
Know another compass

And between us
I guess this little time
At least gifts my sisters
At least I can say I missed her.

And if I am not true
I guess there’ll be more missing too
For ever since I caught the flu
I have not known just what to do.

My doubt, My doubt
Of my own clout
Well it wheels me about
And in discipline.

I struggle, rarely win,
They say your soul is wearing thin
That I am lost afore I begin
Therefore (I do not believe a word)

if all I have is rhyme. Without brine
Let us speak o love, till dinner time
And if there are but hours left
Then there is no time to jest.

Your friends that I serve drinks too
In leather patterned shoes
I thought were just your normal crew
Sure, they were normal just to you.

But in my Clarkes I did not know
Their weight, mistook mine
They’re great, I wow, another time
And wow again, like wow. Wow!

Upon the cork I trod. Never thought me shod
For marble halls. Where you are ermine robed and all
And I’m so sorry that I called
So late to save me from my fate

This is a lasting memory
And if T is to be

Oh yes
Oh yes
Oh yes
Oh yes.

I wonder how they kept their seats
I think I may miss your tact
But have your cheek, Oh.
So slow, I must, I know.

And to get your cheek
I know the ladies knees go weak
But you must need a nice hot bath
Yes, and laugh

A nice hot bath
When did you last give love to you
By my watch your share’s overdue
Run, run, run, the water

Be serious
The water, not the park
Relax a while and have a lark.
Do you have any books to read?

I guess you might have one or two
Two or three
Four of more
Well you ought to have four score

Really well, a century
Really, what wicket’s this?
Anyone’s guess
The bowlers not got bails yet

I reckon a bath and sweat
Roll and roll. Royce

Sing a song from out the trees
Smile a while and take a rest
So high in clouds for want of girls
Yes, I confess, I just lacked confidence.

Sparu, Starling
Sparu, Starling
I ever I can lift you darling
Breathe in you some breathe of life

Stand, overstand
For you have helped this foreign land
And how they treat you oh so grand
Lord of all, of all the Strand

And the Dickens
What the Dickens is this anyway?
Solutions for our whole clade
Some fasting, and some deep breathes.

Step up
I’m up. Lets do it
What dat?
I thought I saw
Chew some fat
Step up to bat
I know you sing a little flat
But sing, I’ll sing back

Still we must play

Stochastically I fell from trees
On Abrahamic prophecy
They all misread, save you and me
We cannot leave them all mislead

Suits you, like a preference choice
If I learn to drive
I’ll be sober
Then I can be your driver.

That now you are my king
That so many parties seen
And hearty now I see you still
My brod, chew some garlic like the cud

The communists come dressed like this?
I confess, a great surprise
And believe that we must thrive
You always had a flourish
 
In tennis, cards, in wit
The finest life to chapter write

The pawns are all gone again
The rallies and the jazz,
The backspin run and run
And sweat upon the tennis court

The revolution finally
Then all I have is poetry
I always thought impossibly
Their’s to have

They say you’ll be soon to jive
For we must twist again
This is a dawn
This is just beginning.

Who ever thought
This wind is yours beneath your wings
Those early doors of course sometimes
We pause and passion rest a while.

I inherited some style
Inherited a pleasant smile
I can see your all this while
Wiggle, wiggle. Just some more

Though of course,
I prefer solar powered horse
Or car, I am sure
Rolls Royce will get that far.

All this just beginning
Possibly your Butler too
But maybe more your Lenin.

To ease the liver and the spleen
To ease the throb of Tennised knees
To life, brave love and company
To make you ease.

Turn, turn again my friend
Twist again, with Kishwa and us three

Unless, unless I can find fame
A game, empty nothing left
We will be family
I will soothe my phuva.

With lover’s words, placate, prostrate
We will, we can, we even If
We’ll dance upon a marble floor
Do you remember Clapton?

The poor carpet. When you came
Held the floor to much acclaim
And danced amongst all those young dames
Who saw me then with different name
Oh

Well it’s just not cricket
Who was he
Who dropped the banana
Made apes walk upon Savannah

Oh this great Rift unhealed
This gift I wish to write, to feel

With salt and manganese
Wrought this world
Yes we shall dream, a ream, a gleam

You will
You can, you will .
Just clean.

You I know medicate
Desire of late and well
You know that I, know my will.

You know when blessed I run through pain
And dance stone floors with sore chill blanes
Can dance to music of the sun, the birds the trees
There is so much more, more to run.

Do not go softly into this new dawn

You know that I, know my will
You know that I do rise at five
You raised me as that different sort
Raised me good to not get caught

You will
You will
You will
You will

Not your will. Caroline Ahern
God I’ve so much to learn
God I’ve only started term
Unforewarned. How’s your lawn?

Does it need a little clip?
I’ll come over, in a bit
Just a short and patient while
I was you, most patient child (?)

Yours is acknowledged
I a silent foot note

Yours still burns
My mind still designed to learn.

For it’s a funny age to be born
Do not go softly into this new dawn.

Do not go gently into this bright dawn

Last night a demon cam to me and said
That he wanted the planet dead
And this was my reply
Tears in my burning eye

We can make the world anew
What are these brand new tools
We can make the world afresh
Will sit down as heavens guest

The time ancient feuds is done
No time for jealousy or fear
For we here are in arrears
And so far is left to run

There is no time to spare
To look upon the ticking clock
For we must tread with love and care
All we have to do is share

All we have to do is love
We have just one planet here
God made this in seven days
It may take us longer still

We have until the December
And your contribution be remembered
For all women and the men
And all the herds that are our friends

And ants and bees, the fish and rivers
And the seas, will all boil
The trees with ashen leaves
But I know you are great are brave

And you can make the world remade
Do not bow down or be a slave
Ours is yet the race to run
Before the burning of the sun

For we can make the world anew
For all the ship and all the crew
Turn this tanker round
Or we all must drown

For there is but one planet here
And she is sick
But have you seen the trees of late
And they are pleased with their estate

And how the eagles celebrate
Finally gone ov’er the gate

For we can make the world anew
With care and love so beautiful

With all the drudgery to quell
We do not have the time to dwell

We must make this world anew
With brave love and spirit true
Turn, turn, the ship around
Until we come to solid ground

Until our ancient mores are found
Restore land to horse and hound
We can make bright future here
And think of all the we hold dear

What use is silver, what is gold
What matters, what value do you hold
I you brave men, and true
And with great ambition too

And I am but a simple pawn
Do not go gently into this bright dawn

Tell me, you must feel the same
Not live with hate and blame
For we inherited a law of fools
We can remake with brand new tools

For we are of one mind
We are just, are humans kind
Turn, repent your sin
Your soul is there still yours to win

For they picked us off illiterate
When we were weak and separate
But now we are all one mind
And we have  so little time

And though I am a simple man
And you mighty may have other plans
This world I know not, nor understand
But tell me you don’t feel the same

For I am lucky, I don’t have kids
But how I would feel if I did
For it is our responsibility
It was us, you and me

We burnt the oil
Cut the trees
Pulled the fish from out the seas
Yes, I do not deny, I did this with knowing eye

There is no one else to blame
Not our ancestors, they’re not in their name
we should weep and hang in shame
For we knew, and did it all the same

And yes I used the power tools
And yes I drunk from drinks in cans
And yes I carried plastic bags
And wore new clothes instead of rags

We knew, all did
You cannot say you missed and hid
We knew the science and facts
And we went on and did not act

This our responsibility
The grass now desert
The ashen leaves
What is their to leave kids

What will they say when they know
What we did,
When they lift there lids and ask
What will your answer be?

For we can make the world anew
And we can make a profit too
For this is enough silver here to share
What we need is love and care

What is it that really matters
The values that make life better
Those things we cherish and we hold
Is it love and care or gold

For we can make the world afresh
And we will sit as Heaven’s guest

Turn, turn again
We shall go forth as friends

There is no time for ancient feuds
For rudeness and bad attitudes
We with science can improve
The world is ours, and ours to lose

For even demons need love too
And they need more than me and you
For we are them of human kind
And now we are of all one mind

They picked us off illiteratre
When we were hungry, separate
There was once space to war
But now we are one planet here

And all we have to fear is fear
And little time to shed the tears
And turn, turn and repent your sin
You are human with your soul to win

Do not be a demon’s pawn
Do not go gently into this bright dawn

For we can make the world a new
We can make the world afresh
Bless
We can sit as heavens guest

For sainthood is yours to win
You men men of great renown
DO not know tow, do not bow down
You have the powers and the mind
But we have so little time

And even demons must feel the same
Who would want a sterile planet
Who would rule a barren rock
What’s to torture, where’s the game.

And you might flee to moutaintops
And the world is wet and hot
And might burrow in a bunker to
But who wants to live as troglydtes

Where the birds and where the bees
Where the trees with spreading leaves
And the rabbits might same, damn it
The apes have gone and saved the planet

Who ever would have thought of that
Who ever would expect it
They might turn and say God dam it
The apes have gone and saved the planet.

For we have all these brands new tools
Database and internet,
many more unthought of yet
We can make genetics splice and rewrite the code of life

For we can make the world anew
And you have the power to
And what is it that you want to do
The same as yesterday, a little better.

Free yourself, let go the fetters
Look inside what really matters
And they always say I’m mad as hatters
But it is my responsibility

I took the train, burnt the oil
Used a power tool for toil
They look upon us as lazy
Our descendents id they be
Will say we must be crazy

Look at the material, the medicines
From all those long chain bonds
They will say they say
Can you believe they burnt it all

But we can make the world afresh
Some step up to right this mess
The prize is sainthood, nothing less
And you will sit as heavens guest.

Do not be no devil's pawn
Do not go gently into this new dawn.

Drosophila's Eden

When the top came off the Sherry Bottle
It revealed paradise
For fruit flies. In some unguarded moment
Amorous adventures led a young couple
To this Eden. They lived in opulence
Proliferated in their dim Utopia
Knowing nothing but a carnival of alcohol
And the safe confines of towering glass
The riches, the Tang, rotting sugar and gas.

The names are lost

Their names not our tongue to speak
They came in chariots
Bit and bridle, smelted bin
Unrusting stele of the Indus
The Ithiop. From this rift
Neolithic. Brown obsidian
Along the Danube, Dneiper
We cannot trace their names
Yamnaya, Shintashta
The horse God gave us love
Gave us legs as centaurs
Gifted us graces of fire and moon
Held the harvests of each before us. The east
The great wide blue.
There are messages lost
Thousands of messages of love and lonliness
Cast lost in glass stoppered bottles
The great blue blue ocean
The stirrup stepped again
Bit and bridle foregone for gear sticks
Demon steam and fire.
Przewalski, my little pony
Where is your pasture's boundary now?

If only you knew

Where the hills. Stars
The Great Bear dips
Sparkle. All the sky's wonders
In this dark
Dark night. While there is still sky
I would breathe out my last
Delights into the ink of your
Darkling tress.

Hot Water

I tell you. I was like 9 to 5. Missus. Lab. Two Kids
And then well
Well, well, well
I tell you I seen the some drug action
Across the board, balls of steel
Pair of grapefruits
In and out of hot water I was
Day after day. Oooh me kidneys
did I get a kicking I tell you.

She was undeniable
Raunchy. So hot I stepped
Into the cold shower
Half a minute felt like six hours

Dam nymph, had me walk with a limp
A bit of heavy breathing
At least it was moving my
Lymph, wink wink.
Did I say a bit,
Straight slamming the abs in
I standing, full wind
Digging my heels in
At it like skiing
Bringing it like
Swing, swing, swing

In and out of hot water for days I was
Darling left me starving
Had a bash, had to
Still starving. I’m like darling
She’s like “no dinner”
Tuesday, Wednesday and then believe
A plate of leaves
Raw garlic everywhere telling me I’m a vampire
“Go eat that if you don’t feel like kissing me” she says
“Vampire”.
Funny Greek,
Ain't had no meat in the sandwich for weeks.
Swing, swing, swing
I’m knitting her a sweater in Camberwick Green
Parsley,
Sage, Rosemary and Thyme
Coriander,
Chilli, Ginger and black pepper too.
Whatever works
I’m still in the dog house
All she wants is tears out of me.
I’m like
Swing, swing, swing

Now I’m like
I wonder where my sugar’s gone

My bread butter
It’s been weeks since I ate pasta
I’m like please sugar
And she gives me leaves, cabbage soup
Bone broth and black pepper
Says "Go drink the oil, the vinegar, it suits your face."
Sour she is
Still, keep it fresh
Swing, swing, swing.
All she wants is tears out of me
Lemon.

So I give her tears,
It’s the only thing that ever works
When you got in the guts.
Lemon.
She wants tears. Lemon
I gave her tears for days.
She just gets snotty. And spits.

Where’s my sugar gone?
I’m like, back down Pineapple studios
Chasing ballerinas
Hot chocolate with chilli in.
Swing, swing, swing.

THING

This
Wish that, transparency
Dance like it is harp string delicate. The Norn's
Thread. Fresh spun time. This
Sadness these joys. And I forget
All that was. Wash.

Wash in waves soft
In waves
Towering, waves. If this wish is
To be
It will
I am but flesh, body. Matter uncollapsed
Not yet
Soul. I know which way
To go. We shall be gathered
Where water lies while
It lasts. Listening to skies

Clouds. The changing sky plays
Seasons. Cinema of empires gone
Ice breath.

I wind.

Hate like yokes

This hate like yokes
Does not cook in frying pans
Like egg, rashers, toast.

This cockerel
For all it crows on waking
Speaks of ghosts

A hurt, the misplaced expectation
The surrendering of youth
This hate like stocks at sunrise.

The hate like stocks and yokes
At sunrise is not breakfast.
No sustenance for famished heart.
The ghosts are bottomless
Ravenous, without cessation or satiety. 

An angel came to visit

This angel came to visit

Like to Abou Ben Adhem
I wish I was like him
I hope I am like him
I hope I am like him.

An angel came to visit

I gave him ladders

As he had lost his wings

For he gathered, that I gathered

Feathers and other things.

I said that when the wind blows
I make pillows
And these days sometimes duvets

And he said oh, oh,

You see the chiefs need them for their headdress
Not these common bedrests

And at this address we guessed

We'd find them all piled in a mess
I said, yes, yes,
I have a long to do list.

1. Abou Ben Adhem

Play silver flute

When the magic people, pixie folk

Take fright in nightmares

Peep from behind the flowerstems in fear
Play them flute. Lips to silver cane

See how light sounds touch upon the evening air
As sweet notes open flower cups
Lullaby the magic folk

Till beddy byes, beddy byes
Calls and strokes their smokey eyes.
Dreamcasting they will dance the broad stiff

Flowerstems, hand in hand in rings
Singing of the garden sweet
Its mossy mounds and moist dark nooks
Its spreading fronds so pungent.
Where the water falls in drips
From the lip of a broken pipe

They will play music on the stocks and tulips
In revelry through raucous night.
Take flight above the pretty blooms
Beating wings a blur, till buds closed, blossom

Petals a tremble vibrate delicate like glass
Resonate in harmony with silver flute's long gasps.

Put your lips to the flute and trust
Magic folk will make their fear art, order at the edge of chaos
And flourish.

The first flush is lost

The first flush of Darjeeling is lost
The Clippers, scaffolds, as stirrups, swift
The fastest and first, the fattest profits. Cutty
Sark
The asparagus is lost
And all the delicate crops of spring
Gone rotten in this distancing
One day the peppercorns will fail
Glass houses in the trees
Ice caps upon the mountaintops
The monsoon. The pipelines

The first flush of Darjeeling is lost

All to dust
Hands cupped to higher powers

Have you been at prayer these weeks
Have you been delivered

Will we be delivered?
In brick caskets, data in a matrix
They will not wash.
Out, out, damn spot
They will not wash.
And when the sprouts spring again
Will the rains come?
Last year there was no rain.

The first flush of Darjeeling is lost
The last sinews of pettifrocks and pith in Africa
The orangeries have escaped
The exotica is alive
Yellow Mountain is turning green
And the Emperor will die of thirst.

Clouds

Those clouds spreading tears
Wanting thunder
Misunderstand
Weeks of parched blue sky
When the air is clear, still, dry.
This is what brings thunder.

Nothing free about markets

There is nothing free about markets
you pay a price
For good, a service, device
Or its called a gift or a theft.
You sell, what you say you are selling
Or they'll be screaming and yelling
As it goes by the name of fraud.
Contracts and laws, predictable rewards
Brought us out of piratical darkness
But there is nothing free about markets.

All hail the Pangolin

All hail the Malayan Pangolin

That makes the mighty quake and quail

Bader Meinhoff, Al Qaeda

Others have tried and failed.

The Ides of March

Comes a reckoning 

What is it that you great Kings owe

The Malayan Jungle and its Pangolin

Pay now before tomorrow.

Shrapnel No.27

Willow, my owl
I wish I were as wise
Wish for you
For you
The wish for you
That is for me
An anguished wish
Of rivers where the water's passed
The falling leaf is carried off
The wish of when stars pale lost
Willow my owl my best wishes,

No virus for old men

It spares the women and children
The way our liberal leaders won't
They're busy giving rights to armies
And making war on every front
War on every back.

They've the power to make the weather
Can control the tide
And from their high panopticon
There is no place to hide.
Their machines consume a continent
Raise towers to their pride
They bend space and time
With the massive gravity of lies.

And from atop their pyramids
What they fear most of all
Is that little germ they cannot crush
Invisible and small

For it spares the women and the children
But not old men who fly on planes
Emergency, emergency this must be contained.
The fearmongers all gone fearful
And what they fear most of all
Is that germ their armies cannot bribe or crush
Invisible and small.

Scrap Mr

Waist high pale child pulling on the worn wire
Stretches a small mitt to clutch thin thread and tugs, tugs
The loosened lank snake, looking for coppers
Expecting no connection. Fed on scraps
Broken junctions, where the lines are dead.
He with two small others slightly taller
Waddling like bowling pins
Living short circuits. The wide street hill
Gap tooth mill terrace leads to fields, tatoos

Women screaming like squalls in a storm
Men cry when the bunting is flying.
“Scrap Mr?”
Three bowling pins, pipe broke gangland in egg.

II.

Voices, shells, pipes, wires
All break
The yard will bale them
Send the pieces east like wool
Like when sheep first drove people from these hills.
Plunder of the monasteries and rail

The Communists made this
Imperialist dialectic.

Scrap Mr, Scrap Mr
They'll pull on all the strings in this old town
Stripped and scrapped
Stripped and scrapped.

To be

You will be brave for me
For if you are not
Then you are not.
So you will.

To be at all
For you, Ubuntu
You must be.
By me fearless
What you think impossible.

So you shall
Cross the wide water, still
That surrounds. A Coracle
I'll send, your knees
Wobbling, step in.

We both know there are sharks.

A note

It's almost an injustice
You did not waste any of my time
Gave more in that short current
Than others I was part of didn't
Who were part of me.

The inequality of magic.
It's almost an injustice.

There are men who built their life
On one sentence of my advice
And women too.
I know the pitchforks. the brands the fearful bring.
They claim it justice.

Valentine

When you're famous
For being so powerfully glamorous
And have an office, staff and PA

Then I'll send you piece
To make your staff laugh at least
And you oblivious, can go on with your day.

Rhymes with

Binge drinking

Singed sinners besiege Saturday
While out back
In syringe filled alleyways
A minge clings to a tale of solstice at Stonehenge
Her one time at the Fringe
The way summer begins.
And the sky was tinged orange.

Old man of the forest

And when, from an ancient Teak
On the last escarpment
The Orang saw the steel towers sleek
He dreamt he would one day make
A great wooden saw
And cut through all the blocks at their base.

Rope and cocaine

So I went down there
With bundle of rope and bag of cocaine
Knew she comply with the pain
And how she'd complain.

So I went down there
With rope and cocaine

This is not what you think
It was more of a game.

All that tension and friction
Restriction and sweat

All bent and all folded
Position all set.

See the scenes from the screens

See they get in your dreams
And she so keen for me to mean
So I went down there
With a rope and cocaine

Like, bike shed half glance, when fumbling
For a hand was moving elephants
Over the Rubicon, Rubicon was fruit,
Beer tasted as strange as a kiss
Memories like wolves gooseberry on this,
Cupboard full of tins

So I went down there
With a rope and cocaine.

We watched TV and drank tea
And I came home again.

I stole this to do it better

Lay me in a sunflower field
Lounging sun flowing over my face
Songbirds serenading my falling
Into a world of you and I

(plagerised from Uma Thandeka)

As an alternative to salad

Magic pickle sparkle root
If I was a wise philosopher
Well I would sit and whittle truth
From clouded confusion of crowding delusions so loud in profusion
These confounding variables.

But I'm but a buttonmaker
With a penknife and a pen
With woods and pearls and ivories
And occassionally some tin.

A simple buttonmaker
Making saucers, circles, sometimes squares and stars
Mind like mouth or stable door, constantly ajar
Though a million truths may be
Some secret, old or new
I know one or two
One or two I know
Or at least I think I do.
Sitting making buttons here's a truth that I can share
The bit that makes a bauble a button
Is the hole, that's the bit that isn't there.

Shrapnel No. 486

Call on this, the knocking of brass and wood
The faerie grounds, tall typhoon
Come again, the lilt of streams
Forest eared, tell that squirrels slept
Curled fur cocoon, all forgotten

Till spring's brass rubs the glass bright

Turning the contents, oddly titled chapters
And meditations.
If all the passersby rode Pennyfarthings.

I could lie like this, dissemble and stammer
Talk of everyone but you
As you are language, are grammar.

Enquiry into Vampire Squid Robots

Does the squid robot still live?
The Giant Vampire Squid robot
That sniffs the wires from Quebec
I enquire after it, after all this
I just do it for the hits, the kicks.

Blind watchmen

It watches over us
But is no god
They watch us
But are no hall of angels
No pyramid, cherubim to seraphim
Full of virtue and good will.

Millions have prayed for a jealous god
Full of brimstone for this Gomorrah
Millions pray
Would such truth be better?
Did not Gyges sin and Golem?

In spectacle they fornicate
A hall of stages for the panopticon
Elevate and immolate and all of us look on
iPad notes with white coat.
The push and pull, this power,
It is no God that looks and listens
In their blindness and their pidgin
What canon inculcate? What virtues
Make sainthood for blind watchmen?

The flocks of rock doves in Trafalgar
Startled like dust clouds from a dumped pallette
Some would say
They're outside the National, they're art.

What harmonies to resonate, incubate
Birth hatchlings of our nature with what wings​?
Fear, fear how they make you fear
In this future, fear for our odds
It is no hall of angels.
And vain hope to wish it watch of jealous god.

Zero-interest

I got zero-interest in forest

Turn this land to dust

Zero-interest in the deltas, ice-caps

Just keep that tap open.

Wrap a noose of pipe
Round the planet's neck

What plague of lice infest?
Just invest, in this instant

I got zero-interest.

Jam today

Pickle to follow

Some beg, some steal and are jailed

Some borrow, and are free

There are no charges

For stealing from tomorrow.

Shrapnel no.4

Of course I loved you
As we all did
As everybody does
But if

When I was young
I knew what it was to be human
The difficulties
What we can give and all our common flaws

If I'd known these things
And seen you, as you were then
I would have loved you even more.

Painting

I cannot paint like Turner
Nor Van Gogh
Not with any brush,

Not by any measure.

But the process of this failure
Is always a great pleasure.

The last to know

If you were the last to know
Everybody you speak to knows

Too obvious, show don't tell

When over the wall exploring
Like scent precedes the flower
Like light precedes a break in rain
Long before you even saw.

And all that seep through the whorehouse
Full of song, some would settle opposite
As Istanbul.
But other myths.

In Istanbul

My love first saw snowfall

Pulled confusion close in daylight
After arguing, I could have cried
My way through the labyrinth till death.

Are you really the last to know?

Sometimes I find modern poetry has poor technical structure and goes on in purple about idealised intimacy

Modern Poetry
They share so much online now
A little verbose.

More point in refugees

What point Oligarchs and bankers
Who ride upon the backs of millions?
Send not these high men who surf the mass

Send those who are cobblestones
Beneath, those ground under hooves

That would make most of us dust.

These foundations, flint hard intrepids who leapt fences

Swum sharks, send ingenious escapologists

From minefield homes who have left
So as not to take up the gun. Send these
Pressure tested, un crushed carbon based lives
Not fat, soft feathered opulents
Buying golden visas for a seven-figure fee
No, I see more point in refugees.

What discord followed

Did I not tell you
As family and friend
Never to deny your love for me
And yet you did.
What discord followed.

You grasped the rose
The wrong part
Too tight and fought
The air about your nose.
A sorry show.

Did I not tell you
As a guru and a guide
Never to deny your love for me
And yet you did
What death of joy.

What ashen wrangle
Smashed china sorrow
There is no reweaving of ripped cloth
A stitch, a patch, a scar, a loss.

He told you
In jealousy and fear
To deny your love for me
And for him, you were not brave
From such instances our lives are made.

The Oracle at Brixton

“All change please”
Prescription clear as scripture

The robot implores
Doors still closed

You could not state a truer picture of our times

And this dilemma

“For your own safety
Please stand back from the yellow line”

Hear, these are those unsafe times
We must all change
And to change
Must cross the yellow line.

By Etonians, for Etonians

You can't say he didn't tell you

They're in it together.
Tailcoat banquets
Sanctioned dole cheques

They gave your tax breaks
To a fat cat in Sark.
Dark. I think of Lincoln
Don't buy it again
A government of Etonians
By Etonians, for Etonians.
They're in it together my friend.

DNA Rights!

The birds, the bees

The educated fleas
They all have love

Have fear and pain.

The flowers, trees

Even cultivated peas
Care for their children

Can flourish and gain.

Is it fear of our similarity
More valuable for singularity
More comforting in unkind disparity
All life deserves respect not charity.

Fight for life, by day and by night
For all upon earth, call DNA rights!

Google it

Look we can Google it
The tools are all in place

Just give MPs a Google account

And we can track their every pace

See their smiling face

Hear what songs they sing

And what company they grace.

Offer helpful suggestions

Prick their conscience

Pique their interest

Get prompt answers to those questions.

All for about £1300
We seem slow to understand

We have tools to control democracy

From the palms of our hands.

Sack em all put whitehall on a Wiki

You might say vote this one
Vote for that one because of that
But in truth, I'm not that picky
Sack em all, put Whitehall on a wiki.

Amateurs from out of town

Sent to London to watch the crown

Was a great idea in 1200 AD

But obviously

With the web we can sack em all
And put Whitehall on a wiki.

Some of them corrupt, lazy

Incompetent and such
Some of them be tax evaders
Eating the “double Irish- Dutch”

The solution is not tricky

We can sack em all

And put Whitehall on a wiki.

You want policy done by people who know what they're doing

MPs know about a lying and bring the country to ruin.
Before the situation gets any more sticky

We have to sack them all, put Whitehall on a wiki.

They will not sell the NHS

They will not sell the NHS

Trust me, I know best.

They'll sell the land beneath its feet

And cut the staff like fields of wheat.

You'll get every drug from N.I.C.E

Without a blink, at twice the price.

They'll bury it in a mound of debt

And all the while let's not forget

When you watch another hearse

It will all be paid from the public purse.

The free press

They fought and fled
In shackles died

To have books read

And town hear cry.

To make print free

Words cut and dry

So all decide

With their own eyes.

They fought and fled

In shackles died

And yet it seems

Under Sun and Sky

The free press now

Costs much to buy.

Voter

You say you love the country
Sing god save the queen
Recite the school taught history
Keep Great Britain clean.

Don't claim to be a patriot
You're an idiot.
Puppet for the global loaded

Fodder for propaganda bots.

Sons of empire

Will you get a price for her down river
Will they ever

Listen to you again.

Friend you're not a patriot

You're a short sighted

Destructive idiot.

Deceased in Smog

All's well that ends well
Sometimes the wise course is
A trouble to tell
But on counterfactual, conjecture
We should not dwell
Like @Jacob_Rees_Mogg choking
On the 19th floor
Of Grenfell's smoked filled stairwell.

Dead letters

Wick ghost, most cherished

I sketch pissed emphemera in pencil

Soot tress this spring all the more

For the less of you

When callous

I laugh at your choice

Ignorant of the act, ill observant

Yet you know

I would be harder, demand you grow

Than all the giddy drunks you make

The muse like seasons

Persistent           I celebrate you wanting

More              in your unkowing

Wish you every blessing.

It is with some hurt, my jet

I laugh at your choice

But I do.

So do you.

Shrapnel No.56

Because I was effortless
In the giving of these gifts
You took it all for granted
Didn't think they would be missed.
Good friends we had
Good friends we lost
Along the way.
I hope we meet again some day.

Best player ever

Ballon D'Or,

Phwoah, do a step over
Dribble some more.
The world's best player
For those who are savvy
Was once called Xavi – Iniesta – Xavi.

Most footballers count one-two
Wall pass, fly through
But great players make triangles
We all know they do.
How do make one with two, not three

Ask that player Xavi- Iniesta – Xavi.

Some players read the game
But a few write the book
Know the next chapter
From only a look
But there's a novelist, with multiple triologies
That player known as Xavi-Iniesta-Xavi

Duels won zero, successful dribbles, zero

You'd think his man-marker was some kind of hero
The truth is the poor lad never got close
Spent ninety-minutes just chasing a ghost
With passes so sensitive they're type you could marry
Off the boots of that player
Xavi-Iniesta-Xavi.

First world problems

The rich have private jets and yachts and yet the shops
Have no cocoa
These boutiques of Brezhnev where you cannot even queue.

I got first world problems
I got first world problems
Like they dissolved jobs into chips and bits
Extract my characteristics
To bamboozle me and sell me shit.

I got first world problems
Like the 20th century infrastructure miracle distilling
Sixty cents in the dollar
Piped, alembic like, into the infinitely capacitous pockets
Of Jeff Bezos, that leaves the rest of us.....

I got first world problems
Like they only make magic money to rearrange property rights
Privatise my collective services
To incompetent fly-by-nights.

I got first world problems
Like they covered the land in tarmac
So you can't grow food
But you can drive to buy it back.

I got first world problems
Like my mind is under attack
By nefarious cabals
That develop their social agenda on crack.

I got first world problems
Like social organisation is complex beyond my comprehension
N-dimensional factorials. An utter dependence on expert systems
Like trains, traffic lights international logistics, wires and gas pipes.

I got first world problems
Like government beyond amateur comprehension
And I've got amateur representation
They said I was above it
But then they closed my station.
(What would you do?)

I got first world, timeless problems
Like barbarians inside the gates
Power high coke fiends that pillage and rape.

It's loco
I got first world problems
I bought the shop out of tropical products like cocoa.

Lost phone

It was shiny and new
Boo hoo Boo hoo
And its camera shot true
Boo hoo Boo hoo
I lost my phone down the Tube
Boo hoo Boo hoo.
It did so many things
I don't need to do.
Boo hoo Boo hoo

I said its dead.

99.9998% of people on the planet
Fight over 7% of the world's wealth

That's 7% for your food, family, education and health
1300 people own everything else.

Is it broken?

Say you're woke but have you woken?

Bleat capitalism, sheep track, goose chase, dog bark wrong tree
Can't see, the wood, forgive him
They make money of you breathing and living

Life's cheap
Turkeys ain't got franchise

If you're woke then blink
If you can't see what's in front of your eyes
Then you'll only ever know what they told you to think.

From each according to their ability
To each according to their need

Sounds like Linux, Sourceforge, YouTube tutorials to me

With 7% for us.
Musk, Zuckerberg, Bezos the surplus.

Citizens of nowhere

Citizens of nowhere
Dog whistle, it's Daoist
The yin and yang
Each word its opposite manifests.

Citizens of our Empire.
Citizens of nowhere
Dog whistle the map dots
Spots like Rockall
Sandbars, cocktail bars, Anguila
Citizens of nowhere.

Mother of that vision
Citizens of nowhere
With zeal and greed
Private planes for old men, old women
Handcuffed.
She stole a nurse's passport
And made her die overseas.
Citizens of nowhere.

Leaves like ears and tongues

I have been waiting for the Sage to flower

This village of grey green furred leaves like ears

In spring rooves spread curved about the compost

Now build cathedrals, articulates spires

Skyward, like furred radio towers.

I have been waiting for the Sage to flower.

How it has grown, grey-green furred leaves like tongues

That wag in wind, pregnant with utterance.

Rising like a snap of timelapsed helicopters

They stretch their soft cupped tips slowly upwards.

My mother says it is good husbandry

To snip back stem to base before it seeds

Or that lush Sage company grows chaos.

Sparse mess of wooden lines, withered ears

A mass of snakes at death. The roots expire.

I have been waiting for the Sage to flower

This tall copse of rushes, soft leaves like ears

Still in the morn, a landing patch for flies

Around the black bin a grey forest throngs

Steadily rising furred leaves like tongues.

Faeries make their home there, in purple cups

A bit like bluebells, with a summer outlook

A feast for bees now the rocket has passed

All the Daisies and Borrage, Thyme flowers.
Since retired my mother's Thyme is pruned

To perfectly round bowers, pres d'Agen.

I have been waiting for the Sage to flower
Its towers engulf the old compost bin
Slender grey green palms now stand two foot tall

Their bobbled leaves loll slow like thirsty tongues
Hanging silent in the July sun.

Thick trunked trees well mulched, strawberry patches
A thatch of dry grass, Ivy and Yew
And the faeries will stop, when they pass through
Sprites and pixies too will come
For the purple flower with veined leaves like tongues.

I have been waiting for the Sage to flower

From rising tongues it has built its empire

Elaborates joints like candelarbra
The old black compost bin in forest lost
A cloud of veined grey-green tongues that thrust.

I thought, clear in error, some dyslexic
Misfiled season that Sage when it strung
Its palisade in spring would purple bring
And faeries soon but many moons have sank
And still, my mother would have said the other
A, not April, how fell, my foolish mind
Does serve me ill.

At some august time, correct and proper
After purple sentinels have trumpeted their nectar
The grey-green tongues have fed the zenithed bells
When flies have drank and bees, the faeries swum
In purple cups and pixies played harp
Upon the petals; I will take scissors
Cut stalk to base afresh, tight bunch the stems
With Honeysuckle twine and hold bright flame
Carrying all about house and garden
As witches would have done
A censer make of silent grey green tongues.

For good faeries will come rushing to aid
And bad faeries will turn tail and run
When they smell the scent of a home burning
The purple cups and their soft ears aflame
Fig hollow, foxglove will house those that came.

And set ground afresh for spirits next year
I have been waiting for the Sage to flower.

Shrapnel 102

I put a pin into a fountain and it failed
What is one to do when there's no donkey for the tail?
What is one to do when you've an aeroplane to mail?
I put a pin into a fountain and it failed.

Shrapnel 31

The was I time I ran
Broken mooreland and glen

And clouds gathered like a temper

The clouds were not looking for me
I did not dance for them to come

Yet it rained

The gathering weight of water drops
Washing salt, sweet over my lips
I drank every breath.

Therapy Notes III

I don't care

The frayed child's lie
You should not argue with those not there.
The washing machine will not clean
The churning of these waking dreams.

Pouring dirt in the powder slot
Push the button, pressing play
Turn the dial to boiling hot.
A grey matter, you cannot run away. 

Nor waste in anguish yet more days
For all the fearful love you share
You should not argue with those not there.

Wasted

I.

The cranes are pecking at the mudflats
Scarred ground and glass

Unresting spirits, in torment, the ghosts
Of terraces down west and east are lost
At night, great red eyed rats sit atop

The office blocks
Great red eyed rats, fat

They have evicted even ghosts
And busy making new ones from the young.

II.

Cup aloft in flowing throng, young, tall and blonde he loudly calls “Can anybody help me”

Falters his voice through heaving halls, "Can anybody help me. I'm homeless" receding backs "Can anybody, anybody. Help. A hurry, hurry of hair and cloth stickles past the paper cup; stick to the path in forest, for many are lost; to the escalators “Get out, Get out” The bluecoats shout at she, traffic powdered pallid hurt, knees up, sunweathered spots and anger. Shouted "Get out" as the portly lady just put a KFC bucket at her feet. "Get out" when she got a mega bucket at her feet. She standing now clenched and shouting, silent; not her parents, the numbers, she, we, we've all seen the numbers, all of us, the figures; kid's gait, small storm, zephyr in an alleyway till the grey, bitten hand carved of frostbite says.

“Go get your food”.

III

“Les enfants danse sur la cupole" seulement
Without religion

They offer opiates and racism

Like the bones are no longer in our mouths

Like we miss a season when dead flowers bud.

The children are crying in the tunnels again.
Git, git, git

Glug, glug, glug.

Shrapnel No.88

The rarefied, most alive
There's no need to deify
It's the way I see it in true
And I justify it too
Tell it straight up
I'm gonna subjectify you.

They must have told ya
It's in the eye of the beholder.
At your shoulder, cold how call girls
Can't hold a candle to you
So I hold a brush to canvas
There's no rush, and there's no
Kansas
It's yellowbricks and only us.

No need to mystify my intention for you
You can see it in my eye,
I'm gonna subjectify you.

Faraday might've kicked his cat

This knowledge did not come from God
This but single tapestry stitch

Made by flawed hands that broke edicts

This knowledge was made by humans.

The system made human minds

Inhuman. Without need for God

For grace or piety.

This knowledge is stained with slavery

Torture, war and sin.

There is no stitch in this rich picture
That bares a thread untouched by blood

This knowledge did not come from God.

Ode to the shit they utter

In an emergency
The blue lights flash, sirens and engines
Expensively assembled teams years in training
Rush to the scene.
Pour on as much water, see no expense spared
Get a helicopter up, the cost is who cares?

In an emergency
You put everything to one side
It's not time to do dishes or watch the paint dry
It's not business as usual, take it all in your stride
With that emergency response
You find people died.

Swifts

If they gave swifts a sky trail

That is how i'd like to write
Or hand washing on river rocks
That is how.

And if I've been unfair

To you, to me, to pages

It is in naming this infatuation.

When to give its due

The muse is one type of love

It's true.

And if I've been unfair to love

It is to say

This is not the type

One needs. One needs

A weave of loves like sail rope

A chord, made from chords

Made from threads.

This ink is just one thread

And I would write like swifts instead.

Santa-Claus doesn't wear a crown

There's always been relations
By folk across nations

Scientists and artists
In horse and carts didn't start this.
Erasmus' letters were not the first
Jean-Claude Juncker, far from the worst.

Just as artists will make art
Scientists shine light

Troubadors come with music and fun
Powerful people muster swords and guns
And relate through fights.

But it's bedtime
Four seconds from midnight.

Kenwood at Christmas

Out from repeated fractal grey

The falling licks of yellow flame

Burn brown the fronds of earthen brains
And all the years whares
Laid in carpet on the floor.
The blue has gone and slowly
Yellow turns to brown and grey
Leaving lignen tributaries
Stretched in awe up to the rain.

This a time of furs and scoured grass
The rasping wind in lupine howl
It barely takes a gasp. They will fish carp

Carve turkey and the year's fat from goose
The flames are burning now

These named benches of no use.

In honour of Theresa May's deal

And where Cassandra?
Not since Troy tasked men

To pull the wooden horse

Within its gates

Has such statecraft taken place.
Auto-colonialism to rue and ponder
And facepalms for Cassandra.

Valentine

Let me at this time lie
Just for today.
Tell tall and wild tales
All the while a rose
Between my teeth
Today at least
Let me lie.

Forget didaction and analysis
The mirage oasis objectivity so illusory
In all illusion, lie wildly
And with passion, my rose
Between my teeth and talk
Of buttercups, pillows and home returns
Of roses, spring, covers and pillows
And beaches, peacocks and cake and stars
And cake and, pillows and clouds
And let it all seem true.

So just this one day you may know
How much I always love you.

The 12.51 to Preston

Sitting in a rickety

White conservatory in Leeds
Talking to an umbrella plant
About zen philosophy,

The twelve fifty one to Preston
Is this what the world expected.

The recovering man sits
On the phone to benefits
Poison fossilised in grey snakes
The mill's curse, scarring these hills,
Gap toothed half literate crack piping

Meat packer stamps his feet in threat

Stowed crow bar in the back pack

For opening doors, the politic

Is this what the world expected.

Make a bare room a seminar

Who's doing the throttling and how

The proper method of crop rotation

Palid, with a handsome visage

Rarely visited by smiles

One of his eyes wanders, the son

Oh him, with the racist Staf.

There are no songs

Of how the steam milled killed

This wet aired town.

Is this what the world expected.

After two shifts the soldier will return

From taking all of the five kids to Mosque

Ferry the recovering man for cash

Like basket weavers who borrow cane
Horror dawns over his jaw on the stair

Witness now to the impotence of serfs

Alone with the pots

Is this what the world expected.

Crack concrete to fit fresh pipe

Shift grit in sacks and back

For aggregates till the clock matches

All of that sweat
To cut the ageing radiators out
And create something better
Wait, for the fruit fly to drink
Gas off the fresh ink

Is this what the world expected.

Sitting in a rickety

White conservatory in Leeds

Talking to an umbrella plant

About zen philosophy

Is this what the world expected of me.

Things I didn't hear at the meeting

Things I didn't hear at the meeting

I tell you they're coming

They're coming they are

With bulldozers like tidal waves

Voracious steel jawed monsters

That crave to encase our community

In concrete, feast

And block out the sun.

Things I didn't hear at the meeting

I've been here for ten years.

Me twenty.

Me since sixty four.

I was here afore all yee in misty days of yore.

I was here when the shops were nice

Before people came to score.

I was here afore all yee in misty days of yore.

Things I didn't hear at the meeting

We intend to build a series of skyscrapers

That will blot out the sun,

Saddle the council with debt

Take the money and run.

Things I didn't hear at the meeting

The alternative to a festering turmite mound

That will devour the suffocated heart of our community,

An army of atomised worker cells

Shedding anonymity to lubricate the path

Of thieves and men of bad affections;

Is a collectively constructed

Constructively created, all purpose

Purpose built Shangrila.

Things I didn't hear at the meeting

I am diverse, I

Represent diverse people

We speak with one voice.

We are diverse here

And they want to build the same

On diverse people.

We diverse people

Need space to be

More diverse within

This community.

If we do not have space to be diverse

We cannot remain the same.

We hope that other

Diverse people will join us

And be diverse too.

Things I didn't hear at the meeting

Hello, I'd like to declare my interest

In a collection of ideas, ideals

That everyone thinks they'd like to believe

And feel quite good with tea and soft focus.

Hello, I'd like to declare that I'm drunk

And the chair of the club

That wouldn't rub shoulders

With you, the community.

Hello, I'd like to declare that I'm sent

From the infamous armies of Satan

We've got pictures and papers

On you and your offspring

And we're waiting,

To integrate input from you,

The community.

Things I didn't hear at the meeting

The picture you see before you

Has no sharp edges,

The colours represent

A very fashionable choice by Arturo

Who did the Auto CAD.

As you can see from the map

There are many spaces

That could be filled with a diverse range

Of hope and energy

Please all imagine

Something that you would like to see

Say “mmmmmm”

And forget the desperation on the doorstep.

Things I didn't hear at the meeting

Please disperse with military efficiency

Into groups of relevant proficiency and expertise.

Assemble your blueprints in two blinks on post its,

Please keep the yellow and green ones separate from pink.

Things I didn't hear at the meeting

Wouldn't it be nice to have some nice things.

Yes.

Other places have nice things, it could be nice.

Yes.

This is nicer than the other place I was.

Things I didn't hear at the meeting

I mean where they going to put it all ?

Where you going put all of them ?

If you put them there,

Where you going to put

All things you have to put

When you put things places?

Where they going to put it all?

It won't fit.

And who put em up to it?

Things I didn't hear at the meeting

I need something for what I do

People like me, they do too

We could do something for what I do

I like doing what I do.

Things I didn't hear at the meeting

You call this business,

Strung out hairdressers, beauticians and fried chicken

I'll buy a flat and you'll feel me pissing

From a great height.

I'm drunk and I don't give a...

Things I didn't hear at the meeting

Space is love

The love of this community

Concious of its beating heart

Seizing this transformational opportunity

To reaffirm tradition with a new start.

We can build something beautiful

With all the voices at the table

Open up the arena
For an eco-equitable, enabling eco-system

Of interactions symbiotically structured

To be systemically symmetrical celebrations

Of space as love.

Things I didn't hear at the meeting

Why don't we just chip in and buy them out.

Pass round the hat, get busy

Will have a few hundred mil in a couple of minutes.

If there's any left in the pot

We can give it to married, mortgaged middle-aged

White men because they don't seem to get a lot.

But we could build a tower block.

Yes, we could build a tower block

That's exactly what Tottenham needs

Another tower block.