A million different dances

I chose unconsciousness as a pose to reality
as you stepped out onto the street
I hid from the fact you were going to be picked up
by a perverted Cadillac driving.
delete.
a short dress enticing, arse on display
coked to the eyes, whisky induced
paying the rent for me and the kids
life controled,
reality reduced.
I hung out, loaded, on that fabled street corner
I can't take this no longer, that bitch of a man
nods in appreciation, only wanting one thing
cocked the tip of my trigger, will do all that I can
The blood spattered windows were all left of him
brains reduced to liquid, seats covered, in his horny last thought
my wife sat there crying, screaming in a depth unexplored
how to cover up this mess is the only mind fuck i sought.
Mr car driven insanity, a wife and kids left alone
its going to be jail time, for me, im afraid
there was no hiding from this murder of a man
when the cops turned up i knelt on the ground and stayed.
She may have been a hooker, but she was my hooker and I loved her
she answered every question and stuck by all my answers
she loved our kids with resilience, and worked her way to provide
we had a million different kisses and a million different dances.
I lied to my lord in the prayers in my cell
said i didnt want to kill him yet inside my mind had gelled
he was the provider for my children, for im a worthless shit
the million different dancers the reason for my hit.
twenty seven years prescribed in a fall of the gavel
left my children behind, in loneliness i travel
i remember the victim, i recall the silhouette
a million different dances, a cell bound pirouette.  

How to finish the senetence

burning inside my brain, no knowledge to contradict
a festival of feelings, unable to count and predict
I long for your forgiveness, your touch on sunny avenues
inside my body, relaxed, in earthly sinews.
sun mornings rising,, higher faster
avoiding your eyes so blue a disaster
cheeks blushed, in orange, in hue so declared,
I miss you, my open mind you dared.
We danced in a seasonal winter, summer, spring and autumn,
we negotiated those left out reasons, we sought them,
and cried on the hill of Heidelberg an opera written,
an early teenage love so smitten
and still i remember you to this very day,
in sleep i dream in a comfortable way
your heart and memory cast in light and darkness
forever
crying
in a mind so ubiquitous
I wonder what happens in a new born babies mind
do you question my attentions a look,a glance, to find
I need us to fall asleep, to dream about this day
there was no other reason, no games we had to play.
I was only sixteen years old and yet i beg you
this braveness of mine in order to do
to kiss, to love, to realise the difference
i no longer know how to complete the sentence.

.

The dinner of the dammed

there was a moment
inside this disturbed mind
i was crying deep inside
regardless, regaling, only to
the breach of my back
snapped, disturbed
this broken spine
confirmed
in this institution
a child's hand. grasped
clasped
the bottle of beer
he drunk every night snapped my mother in two
but she fought back
and bottled his neck
to shut him the hell up
and every time during sunday dinner
drunk disturbing the mash potato
picking on me because of the beer driven hatred
not appreciating the time mum had labored
over the roast chicken but he was more so
stuffing alongside my own baby brother
every night after tea the snoring on sofas
my  father and uncle asleep and content
i died in my mind during wonder years sent
and then he awoke, remembering nothing at all
cuddled me and the regrets went away
for him
not me
i wandered to a fall
that sunday dinner
 of regret
after an afternoon in the publicans arms
fireflies dancing in a turgid sunset
i love you dad but you fucked me over
a yorkshireman
a real man lover
a jester laughing an artist dying
left me malnourished
sunday dinner, child crying.
a roast lamb seeping
i am what i am
it was every week
the dinner of the damned.

my ultimate degree

whatever time of year ,you are something special to me
in a different time and decade in a obvious degree
i trust you, and love you, there is no doubt at all
we gel just like soul mates, like a peacocks mating call.

i remember, i recall, i rectify the same
an anguish, an argument, they will always remain to blame
and if we ever fall out, if we ever shout and trouble
a million seconds of hurt,a mid summers heart did double
.
i digress, i surely do, an obvious reason to look at your face
so perfect, so indifferent, so wanted fall from grace
an angel glitters, a bold sentence, a gift from up above
i craved, through wanderings, in this forest,of love.

i know you are my best friend, a soul mate there is no doubt
this closeness is a reason, i just don't shout about
but you, are something, that means the world to me
even if i digress, i love your serenity

i wish, i could wander, walking hand in hand,
with you, through .a dream scape, in a fantasy land
no matter what i have craved, no wonder, what i have dreamed
you are my best friend, for that i have always screamed

and no matter what has gone before, we will always laugh and cry
we will wander, through an ignorance ,fingers tapping as to why
whatever time of year, you are something special to me
my bestfriend, my soul mate, my ultimate degree.








 

a proud yorkshire man

there is a tale of a yorkshireman
who wandered through the dales
dad was a steel worker, hot and sweaty
telling a million yorkshire men tales

oil and steam in the air a rising
a dirty city grimed in dust and pollution
seven hills rising to forgive
in a sheffield dissolve in absolution

drink yourself into forgiveness
at the end of a terrible day
worked to the fingers i digress
the children know not how to play

there is a tale of a yorkshireman
my mother cried at my fathers feet
we craved to walk in the countryside
yet we have to live in this poor mans street

back to back houses
and a shared toilet for a family of five
we prayed for forgiveness
yet thank god we survived

there is a tale of a yorkshireman
several world wars later, picking fruit as we go
we thought of a reason to escape
yet we trembled as we know

tis the end of this journey
as a proud yorkshire man
one day they will  recognise me
that i did what i can.

my mother cried on this adventure
presented a world do i am
because this is  my first love
a proud yorkshire man.

two million seconds on a ladybirds back

two million seconds on a ladybirds back
im flying dragons in a kiddies story
blytons tales and lewes fables
im eight years old rejoicing jack a nory

I never grew out of uncle franks hard time hatred
he played with me under the covers
i grew stronger because of his abuse
an introduction to  is all timed lovers

fiddled my private parts, alone and in anguish
i try to release and stare at the moon
stop touching me, im trying to sleep
lullaby baby in a cot asleep so soon.

never alone my mother did cry
he drew me over and the earth did revolve
my pianist fist, clenched and reasoned
my thoughts died and dissolved

why did you hurt me and so drew the blood
i never knew so much distress
my arse so abused. a sword so inflicted
unto the fissures dead and depressed

why did you hurt me my uncle
i never knew, so much i cried
this anguish and hatred disruption
for the telling this story, i lied

i could dance and laugh at your anguish
the power of an infant abide
to destroy an innocent tale
not to rhyme nor collide.

The Paris subway freak

I slept one night on a Paris subway
cold and all alone
fiddle playing as a cushion
pressed to my ear like a phone.

she walked by and smiled
donated a frank and shed a tear
in sympathy upon nuances
a unique position aqua clear.

those rosy red cheeks glowed like rocks
I died inside for a minuscule second
she donated her warmth to this tramp in the park
more than i could ever have reckoned

trains passed by but the carriage was empty
drowned by whisky and beer
my hands dried and nails too long
her lips on mine creating romantic fear

the paris subway showed me where to to go
my mind tripped her like a skipping rope
in a dizzy mind loop rainbow
I dont know how to cope

she said the words i love you
my beard all too long afraid
a Shakespearean play plaguing
this old imagination all a frayed.

and so on the subway station
i exist so all alone
i dream each night forgiveness
an empty skimming splashed the stone

To sleep i must become
my passing angel brushes my cheek
falling deeper into lethargy
I am that subway freak

Coal Face

I fidget
inexcusably
twitching with a nervous kindness
black rocks
shining
like mr coal face
mining on the slate
a thousand years to a diamond
Pressure building in a ring.raped of a distinguished
bunion,  buoyed,
I saw jig jagged
leveled, jeweled
told a year old story,
I proposed and she said yes
the ultimate guess
yet not to posses
at least not yet.
they died in the disaster
crumbled slower then faster
just because you said yes
a commitment for life
to become my trouble and strife
an amen of forever
bridesmaid and ushers
in laws and pushers
a cheap bard a que
Shakespearean speech
coals igniting a hamlet sinew
to the bone
of the marrow
inside the stone
no longer will i be alone
for the diamond spoke
she accepted the proposal
clinging finger
forgiven
the coal pressure.
the rare alone.
smile
the acceptance
the band plays
we dance
on shining shriveled
fingers endowed
with a diamond ring
and the crowd sang
as we clapped and then slowed
allowed the audience to stand and applaud.

butterflies don't fall in love with me

I lied to you,
told you I could dance on tables
that i could sing, the lyrics to,
i don't get around much anymore
play tenor sax,
I lied to you
to impress, saying sculpture were easy for me
portraits were a natural art
i could sew you a petty coat
i could captain a boat
wave goodbye to a crowd
i lied to you
i do not know Latin, nor Greek
i cant do calculus or
streak rainbows in the sky
for a child that is not mine
i lied
but be damned by it
i lied for a reason
its simple
i told tales
because i needed you
apologise i do
i can not see the shadows on the moon
nor can i draw down the flames of the sun
i tried to, believe me i did
the sweat was real, the perspire
butterflies don't fall in love with me
thats real.
I am not a liar.

qweeble

So tell me about the Qweeble.
The Qweeble is so much easier to describe than the non Qweeble,which of course is ridiculous in color and smells of nectarines.
So tell me about the Qweeble.
Its a preferred non entity of mass non identification that its brother, the non Qweeble habitates in ferocity and hibernates amongst blind infuriating winter gales, telling chilling tales amongst gatherings of the non Qweeble family.
So tell me about the Qweeble.
Its daughters dance in passionate wheezes, trying to attract the lesser Qweebles from under growth, that at most, hide in another beings shadow, feeling, i guess, i don't exactly know, but feeble.
So tell me about the Qweeble.
I'm unable to tell you about them. I don't know the prognosis, but I'maware, they stare at you from under the bushes, the hedges, the fences, the hences of, they hate us, they hate you, the ridicule.
QWEEBLE.
Oh, qweebles, yes, sorry if I felt the need to resist, Qweebles you say, I apologise, should have just gotten straight to the point, hope it was not missed,
Queebles, don't exist.

Mr Knock Knock

Mr Knock Knock

knock, knock
who's there
its the angel of death
what do you want, I'm six years old
knock knock
i answered the door Mr knock angel
your parents
what about mummy and daddy
they died tonight.
Is this the babysitter telling me?
In a car crash across the river bridge to home
no, I'm seven years old
grandaddy says you don't exist
knock knock i do
I live the life within you
you can't, i have no life in me anymore
my life died on the bridge
knock knock
i chose that for you, i always have
not anymore you bastard saint
you allowed them to drown
did I
you did
knock knock
its a joke no more.
knock knock
who's there?
the river was shallow, they survived
angel of death
you lied
that's what i do
to disturb and provoke you
Honey we are home
eight years old
continue.
Drowned faces found again
nine years old
sea the weed in me
nurture me to suck on the teet
you are too old
I'm not, you took them away,
we are here baby
that nasty old knock knock has gone away
really? mommy, really
No its me,
I love to see the pain on your face
teens
and pronounce i can without doubt
college years spread on campus
no more dread
fall in love with the girl I met
so pretty, i want to marry
I want to evolve
knock knock!
No, go away, I'm happy now, i don't need you
yes you do, I'm Mr knock knock
inside of your head
you should have been in the car that night
I will never go away
My friends call me guilt
here's my card
I'm thirty years old
I don't care, tap, tap, tap
I'M HERE TO STAY WITH YOU FOREVER AND ANOTHER DAY,
I have a two year old child, you are dead
KNOCK KNOCK
No
KNOCK KNOCK
No
KNock Knock
NO
no, no!
I have a three year old baby, you can't control me anymore.
I can and will,
Goodbye Mr knock knock.
Dont leave me
i need you,
im nothing without you
I'm
knock knock
who's there...........
no one at all.

independence day

When I were out walking but a few days ago
I met a man from the east side, a genius don't you know
he smiled through teeth of anguish, chess pieces on his brain
intense blackened eyes, like his king queen bishop insane.
When I were out walking on the pier of New York
I met a man selling shell fish, fresh from the east side of the coast
his head was all grizzled. gnarled with knowledge and age
he talked of wars and sacrifices, he was a seaman of sage.
When I were out walking on the coast of Delaware Bay
I smelt the essence of history upon a cockle shop day
passing octogenarian couples, white haired commitments delight
not forgetting the immigrants, recalling the fights.
When I were out walking, but a few days ago
a red lobster, face scaring the children as I go
the bottle of booze, wrapped in brown paper
this hobo a travelling, in the midst of the later.
I sat on the east coast, having made it by rail from the west
just a skinny old man dressed in slacks and a vest
seeking others just like me, a family I never did know
the calling of ancestry, that allowed me to delve oh so low.
When I were out walking I stumbled and fell
in the high tide of the east coast, no more time for this drunkard to dwell
I am here for a reason, to wash all the pain away
salt water of the east side, it is the end of my day

The English countryside

A sensual being
rides the mist over heather
with purple days and pollen nights
the skies, transformed
a mix of hell weeping green ghosts
night owls and bat seeks
unshaven angles of mountainsides
hills and meadows divided high
cut with walls
appals my mind
for this, the English countryside.
I hover over a canvass
with oil dripping from trays
my hand is a spectrum tattooed
with colours of the evening
serene, the scene
I try to cultivate like the plants
laugh, like Sylvia Plath could not
who are you black shoe,
I am but the eye
for this, the English countryside.
Rub my knuckles in the dirt
and wash upon the white
mix the trouble, of the skies setting
the oils and water from natural springs
birds and underground voles
moles, squeaks and sings
they must of course bow
with baton in paws
and confide
to the orchestra
for this, the English countryside.
I fell asleep on downs of spring like
encased in leaves all brown and hue
inspired by autumn,spring and summer
winter dreams the gales blew through
yet still I painted this mercy of trouble
to mount one day in a hall applied
be framed for all to look upon
this, for all to stand in awe
our grandeur
English
countryside.

the naivete of childhood

Like a flower growing tentatively towards the rising sun ever upwards craving heat and light, to store when day is done
 believing life is all forgiving, that you're protected until the end that no one is your enemy, every person is your friend
. The naivete of childhood is a hidden paradise, yet innocence is shattered as perceptions grow precise
 you here the hurtful comments and the angers deep inside you feel the heartache and depressions that life had tried to hide
 You build up all your defences, to cope with the attacks the instincts you once harbored, sharpen, not relax
. The naivete of childhood seems a million miles away you are growing older and wiser every passing day
. Time is what you make of it, people are perceived. situations are controllable you grow sensitive to the need
. Develop new emotions, you never knew you had. encourage your sensations nurture good from bad
 the naivete of childhood can develop once again but this time there is no innocence no rose tinted world of pain.
 You know of all the evil things, therefor just be aware
 look out for their arrival, so you may face them you'll be there.
 The world can feel so heavy, balanced on your back
 so share the weight with others, divide the heavy stack.
 Children are naive for they know no other way, but you have seen the shadowed lands the unlit part of day.
 Innocence is a priceless thing,
 that we all lose in the end
 yet the flower will keep on growing and the sun is still your friend.

we strive to hunt the midget a qweeble by another name
furry and intense its eyelids inver