Cannot get away
from this feeling
that I am
under constant,
insidious
surveillance.
After all,
They never stop going on about it:
The Mediums
It is difficult
not to take it
personally.
Spookies .
‘Perhaps someone is surveilling this?
comes a Little
Voice
Don’t be silly!
Whobody
in their right mind
would do that?
Jump up!
Out yer seat?
Just joking,
looky-looky yonder…
adenoidal brother
flouts the flute.
Bloody Ingrate.
Too snotty, he say:
‘Big blows.’
A
Nosey Christian prys, sighs:
‘Clueless and Bubo black, like dead sharks are.’
Mood impetigo,
slap rose petal ointment on,
take the town drain to Vermington.
Dalai Llama, come back all is been given!
Katy Lied.
A long path alone,
untrodden,
as,
you presume,
like so many others.
Likelyhoods are certainties, you conclude.
Breathe the same air or what!
Steady Tyger!
Who rattled your cage, Pal?
People,
just people.
People like you with
splendid agendas,
like mine,
hidden treasure,
an encrypted chart,
a musty cave,
six big,
red daisies,
bad music,
comfy
wrecking ball.
Twenty-Four
Seven
Heaven
Sunday.
All day.
Lamb chops,
mash or baked.
Oven.
What else?
A Leek.
Fags, need fags.
How?
Conscripts & regulars.
Shit…
Entropy
Light,
heat
and light:
utopia.
night falls
real
slow
Oil and
Water hour,
tangerine salmon
swim pink wall
pool now
showing
jejune
turquoise
tome coat
starring
three dead
famous
heads
jolly
blue Jakes.
Yucca
deadly
jungley
floods
sliding:
All the air
Full of hair
Strawberry…
Four no rule,
no measure years,
just got back mid-morning:
soft landing,
natives just the same, not me;
too much time to think, you see,
so everything is good or bad up there.
Back with a head full of seaweed, razor
whale gore,
syphilis and carnage. Whodunit?
Ask the guy in the looking glass. He say:
Author of your own destruction
with a little help from your
acknowledgements.
Left is right.
Right is left.
No turning back
You know too much
Thin whistle distant,
scree creeps,
screeps
sheeps
Cader Idris slopes
off to Dolgellau.
A massif thirst descending.
Old bards tools, blood and quill
discarded in a brogue,
bob along half tidy
Mawdach for
Cardigan’s litterol.
Watch Out!
Soul in fluxion.
…mad rush phantom turd
fear false alarm no bombs
all clear for now slip back
down fizzy coffee.
air room fug.
World flora crown sill:
red rose,
cactus rose and aloe vera,
baby cactus rose,
yucca – George the summat,
stray leafy leaf
avoids peach tobacco
stage curtains,
old small paned iron strip windows,
titan thickening privet
sprouting lawn,
brick brown semi
some big trees hide
simple horizon
planeless skies
Coming up to six.
End of nice days
after tomorrow
just
for a few weeks.
Auric sun on pink wall,
new bronze age.
Savers saved,
survivors not.
So no cause for concern
then:
Sufficient unto the day
is the evil thereof?
Oxen stare out
ankle deep in mud
catch a flaxen
burst of lux gold sax.
The procession nears:
Madame Charcot,
her Footmen,
borne by
mute lace makers.
They pass,
Waving waxen,
lit by Tilley Lamp
and near full
plumb
moon.
Here to replace
the sleeper.
Then
After that
Matins and Martini.
Misery lurks in the long grass,
armless and still,
like good gone west.
Grimbeau 