The Thirst Of April

Hooray!
A brand new day
to have my say
I wake up to make up
celebrities,
made up deities,
coked up mysogenies,
diasporic theories,
on mornings wet and dreary
People shot while on their knees,
bigger figure burgers
with extra cheese,
coupons for add ons,
cheaper pills
for harder hard ons,
higher rates to work
and lease,
slaving
while ageing,
for wages to appease
the unfeasible,
unreasonable.
Seasons for diseases,
sniffles,
coughs,
and midweek wheezes,
ringing in to blag days off
to be freed,
smoking weed,
snout nose absent from the trough

Ministrations

Pull your finger out,
lager lout,
have a care
if you dare,
and shout
about it,
if you doubt it
A pyrrhic victory
for liquored up dicks
in the ministry,
as silence reigns
on rush hour trains,
our tongues
are stilled,
from mouths fed full
and pockets filled
Thoughts
are censored,
fenced off
with a tense cough,
behind hands
we once
determined as good,
but now find
no longer kind,
and grip slipping,
from the dripping
of indiscriminate blood

Aleppo

The first insult
you mutter,
vindicates,
and indicates
you're a nutter
You're poor
in terms of wealth,
that
describe mental health
Odious
but commodious,
accommodating
fluctuating views
of interpreting news
Guns are held,
people shelled,
trees felled
for paper,
to describe
tapers lit
by suited shits,
a board game
of unrelenting shame,
where dice,
thrice thrown,
earn extra turns
to win
in the end,
offending,
never ending,
rule bending,
rights to fight
you shoulder shruggers
and shirkers
you bomb,
do no wrong,
aid workers

The Law Of Averages

If I touch you too much,
it's the proximity
of fragility,
adjacent to mortality,
tangential dichotomy,
essential taciturnity,
the promise of eternity
If I hold you too long
is it wrong?
You're detecting
me rejecting,
space age,
road rage modernity
If I kiss you slowly
it's the closest thing to holy,
but I'm shucking,
chucking off the covers,
blankets and sheets
that conceal two lovers,
one anachronistic
and dutiful,
the other mute,
but beautiful

Tear Along Dotted Line

Clinging to packages
under carriages
on trains
Under checkpoints
hand held over child's mouth
crawling through drains
Through undergrowth
while guards patrol
with dogs barking at passport control
Inside trucks 
falling from planes 
killed under the wheels of trains
It's this country
with which they're smitten
Sign up
and line up
for the brand new Battle of Britain

Age Of Tings

Collect resources,
live longer,
collect coins for wonga
Build a castle,
recruit serfs
Toil the earth from a distance,
crush all resistance
Annihilate and decimate
opposing forces,
with infantry,
pikemen,
cavalry on horses
Show no mercy,
but worse yet,
place bets on outcomes
Keystrokes
by lonely folk
battling their wits
in urban flats
and run down bedsits
High definition
limited edition
rendition of a life lived
to screen
nose pressed
face sweaty sheened
and half undressed

To Protect And Serve

Avoid the fray,
don't disobey,
Ran the sign?
Just pay the fine,
accused of random acts of crime
Unchecked
redneck blue suits
are shooting the breeze
standing,
prone,
or on your knees
Smokey bears,
doughnut waistline bigger
with hardened stares
are pulling triggers
at random
in tandem
at any stalwart public figure
Fear inspired
they conspire,
hell bent
god sent
murderers and deceivers
guns instead of cleavers
I tire of the fucking butchers,
of Pastor Terence Crutcher

Intentionally Left Blank

Yellow line,
bright,
down my back
reflects light,
intermittently illuminated
by pools at night
Spat on
and shat on,
KFC bargain bucket
for a hat on
Friend and home
to those drunk
or all alone
Big stone smiles,
cobbled teeth
and asphalt feet,
I'm all street.

Curved Space

How long would it be?
And how far would we get?
Before the recourse
for discourse
forms a big cause for regret?
She squirms,gurning,
as I'm learning
she's unfamiliar
with a contradiction of terms
Past tense is nonsense,
future tense
no recompense
Only the present lends itself,
so make amends
to future selves

Bradford

We're fearing beatings
from punks,
and drunks cheating,
the dangers
of spare change jingling,
I'm wearing the same
clothes
as you,
it must be
nineteen eighty two
Zombies
in crombies,
causing frowns,
in once brothers worn,
slightly torn,
hand me downs
Town beckons
hecklers reckoning,
night bus catching,
bottle clutching heathens
heaving,
scathing looks
from chucked up guts
in alleys,
and gullies,
dark streets sullied,
we're hiding frowns
worried about bullies,
in this home,
our northern town

Scallys and Back Alleys

The players assemble,
no preamble.
Instruments revealed from cases,
on daises,
leveled gazes.
A raw,nerve exposed chord
of the flawed,
is struck
Wizened familiar fingers pluck,
strings drawn tight,
under stage lights far too bright.
A cacophony ensues,
inspired,
by half retired thoughts,
of an aged muse.
Briefly they align,
accidentally,
and coincidentally,
merging,
on the verge of some unknown design
But sweat dripping from pores
I'm clutching your hand
as we edge toward the stage door.
Musical scores are drawn,
notes are fired as we duck,
and weave,
lips smile
but beneath
I'm minding grinding teeth,
as we find an excuse to leave

Half Eleven

My fingers,
hands,
make small designs on her back
as she sleeps
I'm communicating to her dreams
She slumbers deep
as we both lay
undressed,
I gently press
my lips to hers,
she stirs,
and mumbles
words nonsensical,
and I love her even more
as she snores
She's tired,
while I'm hardwired,
I'm pressed from a mold
that embraces northern cold,
so warmth
from her body
I treasure like gold
Leisurely fold her
in my arms
stroking her hair,
careworn,
where we lay,
I'm keeping
bad dreams at bay

Victoriana

Gongoozler.
Bamboozler.
Perfidious and insidious,
tomfoolery and buffoonery
Sir,you can't be serious,
entertaining goonery.
Spoon fed,
leash led,
bathed,enslaved,
and put to bed.
Learn to wipe your own arse,
bombastic pederast.
Concentrate the rays from your gaze
through a half broken looking glass,
to peer at what remains
on the pavement,dashed out brains
where you fell,reliant as hell
on deceptions,
conceptions based on cloths raised for the tell
and reveal of the spell,
of once concealed poor wreckages
of neat packages in a row,
tied with a bow.

That Sinking Feeling

A lack of a sense
of direction?
No compass
or bearing
for course correction?
Make a decision
on your own,
not laying blame
to the owners of bones thrown,
or subject,
or the object,
of someone's poor derision,
on a ship of fools
with borrowed tools,
to repair
planks worn and holed,
from emboldened
stories embellished,
night time tales told
Swabbing,
scrubbing decks,
of ancient wrecks
Barely held together,
tethers worn,
strips of leather torn
to cram
in a tight jam,
gaps that spill
salt waters that sting
as they spill,
into bilges filled
to the limit
with suggestions
fortified with wine
way beyond
the plimsoll line

Into The Fold

You present me,
all smiles,
with a grey box
empty,
I'm perplexed
You say climb in,
the laughing stops,
and I contort,
distorted,
warped out of proportion,
so bent double
I'm folded into corners.
Legs cramping
knees drawn up to chin,
sharp creases in pale skin.
My shape made anew
by nimble fingers.
Origami idiot

Bugger,Hugger Mugger

Please
don't ask for the time,
and please
don't ask me for change
Please
don't ask me/insist
that I vote
A scrote
is a scrote
and there's no
antidote
Please
Don't ask me to fight
you're telling me
it's my right
to be angry,
as hell
Well,
I can't dispel
the notion,
that I'm sure
that it's based on emotion
states that fluctuate
not delegated
And please
Orange Vest
you don't desist
though I reaist
I'm here to retail
not disclose
like a rabbit that froze
my current acount details

Driven

Step back cracker
This ain't no seventies
shake down,
in fake town,
cut me some slack
and back off
Jack
If you're  a cop
you'll get a cap,
not a slap
Yeah
I got the black stuff,
step round back,
be discreet
and take a seat,
you're sweating
so I'm betting you're needy,
you greedy fuck
Feeling withdrawals
and urges,
for kerb crawls
on verges,
insane thrills
from eviscerated road kills
Chill,
I've got what you need,
embargoes aside,
I could do with a ride,
yeah,
South Side

Wet Saturday

Fast lips
make loose
lipped quips
spill gip
Ill -equipped
Lips tight
white and pressed
stressed
spill shite
despite

Meet the Cleaver

Oxo cube and gravy granules?
Meat in a tube?
blimey,
we've eaten all the animals
Panda steaks and snakes baked to slake appetites
frightful but delightful blights,
cravings for ravens,herons and storks,
feet under tables hands on forks,
bears shaven to better feast on meat,
bellies round and replete
Marsupial soups and gloop
formed from processed
distressed
contents of a birds nest
Tiger bread
to dip in the froth
of the broth like contents of a zebra's head
Elephants are killed for thrills
bills sent
to hardly repentive American dentists
written with quills from duckbills,
natures beating heart stilled
Pâte's and purée's
moccachino's and latte's
we must be crackers,
something to savour whilst discussing the flavour
of adolescent alligator knackers

Fears,Dearest

I thought you
were the one
in a cage,
and it was me
set free.
Seems not
to be the case
Pedestals scratched,
nails torn and bleeding
red stripes
on white granite,
I'm clawing my way
up the pillar
I've chosen
to place you on,
scaling unreachable heights
vertiginous
mind reeling,
to reach the place
holier,
than you or me,
where I approach,
knees bent
on all fours,
to worship somewhere
I revere sufficiently
to call home