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Thursday, 28 May 2020

The mirthful coos but the impatient, hungry cries of our children teach us (DRAFT/UNFINISHED)




Plain clothed Technocrats hang on a tight 
budget bootstrapped the average cost of a funeral 
in the UK now stands as potentially redundant, totally 
as in compulsory that some other person remarked 
the axiom physics no two bodies can occupy 
at one and the same place, be rude 
floccinaucinihilipilification turn aside the poor
double iniquitous a casting breach of solvent 
pyre, castigate a long table turned I'm Ronnie 
Fucking Pickering Ronnie Fucking Pickering 
Ronnie Fucking Pickering the horses are 
apoplectic overcharged by the multitude 
capsized homeland a pure shambles 
seeing Vienna goodnight blossom 
its me Ronnie Fucking Pickering
again locked in this comfy shed tinkering 
set to grow out the masses on a barren 
comedy hillside turn on the terrified 
run, its the only way out gobshite 
geriatric paradise dozing cluster 
of pets atop slender poles 
jizz of guillemots a modest 
memorial of your lives 
death breach of post-humous 
repayment structures implemented this
in the veil the ambulance light
a pretreatment kindred 
clay pipe and acknowledged corner 
snug in cotton fuddle the million 
petalled flower I stare at night and day
night and day and call out to the sun
you don't see a chariot carrying 
your granny away you haven't lived
my standing chill branded in the beautiful 
rays bleeding out day and night day and night 
house to house less deceived 
on that bed the actual habit of estimating 
is worthless pure classism better times 
when the flames spread radially 
around the petals, and all were alight, 
alas stems rose slowly from the gaping 
floorboards pealing upright with a single
massive flame a sacred gasp clap. went 
around the house as it lifted 
o spare me spare me I will work 
work so hard for you under the yonder 
tree, work so hard cast in gold between 
the anvils of the star. Clare Balding 
and Supreme Court watching adrift or ashore 
without others, rich dad poor dad
rich dad poor dad parabolic trajectory 
is a great unseen here alone one voice 
on this patch a motionless foliage 
all I could hear was the wind, 
and everywhere birdsong 
and morning doves 
the dirt beneath your feet




Friday, 22 May 2020

Sports UK (DRAFT/UNFINISHED)



There is no justice 
councillors eat backhanders with glee
on bar-till mock urchins
all in uniform glow the pickets are outside 
scabbing happened we haven't forgotten
vitals transferred to upper floor
non-access unpaid where 
deeds glean over 
thousand margaritas pissed
at zero time a barrel depreciates
full of pop fish mapless 
prerequisite for swarming 
architectures sliced up 
you will get yours 
scattered throughout a borough
or two and beyond 
free to leave at any 
given point you’re a deficit 
sight grinned chalk time for 
no confidence sliding south
say yes in a little dam 
you simply fucking have to




Tuesday, 19 May 2020

SERE, 2020






Oil on canvas, 45x45cm  Painted on my behalf in Dafen, Shenzhen. Based on Christopher Hitchens own ‘Lashed to the Mast’ experience for Vanity Fair 2008.

Sunday, 17 May 2020

I cannot smile at the men (DRAFT/UNFINISHED)



Cardice kiste behest
coxswain hordes bearing
golden lace in bulk 
the white bonnets with 
hemophilia lazy chevron  
long train dresses 
papers piled a life shorn 
of difficult things 
reliant on that external vantage 
for orientation cross the line
of something small,
ice cream in the vine
tax forget I'm a good person 
I've written thousands of slips 
of paper negate here each person
in a sealed environment 
a metal loudhailer resides,
forget its yours a world 
marooned chicanes 
its yours


How British schooling (DRAFT/UNFINISHED)



Writ across my face
in silo the compound
arch is made 
out of bitter missives 
off idylls bleached into 
gantry singing 
tied up in sad yap 
and revisited as guest 
having no charm of quark,
are the burrows of your
comradeship lapel
unworn for the 
cipher school turned to 
papal kisses one by 
one to build the lagoon 
whilst white bonnet 
renders sympathy out 
the jurors 

Friday, 15 May 2020

MORELONDON (DRAFT)





A mantle of suet, 
to wear charm school
on threadbare 
mask to gull have the 
face in laissez-faire
patsy, a soft touch 
as the garden of old school
is biddable remember 
in sotto voce easily 
in your upstairs crony room
the public-space gurus
are on new artificial hillocks 
pilloried to roam freer 
down under turning 
to skill predation  
the admin cortex
brittle alert break 
given as bellwether smite 


the Downs or to Beachy Head



The popular glories of the palaestra
for a ribboned coat remember 
beating frogs to death in the 
midsummer evenings remember
the river and the games field
the view was undying;
hexameters and open innings 
the herd to my side shrood 
the thronging hearties 
dullard come and see the sights 
and shut De Oratore! 
to think of what it feels like
to have yr head kicked in! 
face down in mud 
and what did it feel like,  
O’ friends it felt marvellous TOP-HOLE
it made me what I am today 
a first-rate preparation for life
ahead ruled with an imperial sway
my house in flood light all seeing 
all knowing all caring and all loving 
bolt eye in the sky to the common green, 
teeming my palsied heart too dull to sympathise
with tar-ruined lavender gloves, 
I stand in a pre-mount position
as per thoroughbred breeding
the science of predation! 
what a thing a man might be!
tailored directly inside the CAD
part by part in real-time 
a model-driven enhancement of the cerebral cortex,  
whilst they have THEIR things such as,
LOOK a panoramic photo of the unified 
control center for the Large Hadron Collider!
LOOK the weather system!
LOOK poor polar bears in a hot flush! 
LOOK trust me I am a scientist!
anointed under the elder tree
of the smarting boys,  
knocking off tilt berets 
clean O'swish in my 
hand is two upon the breech,
redoubtable wielding roflcopter
of justice blots yr foxed face;
buckle behind old sort
all the dons drawn pale! 
but the aspidistras are hard to kill
that is known in earth mud alone
the salt won’t do 
lord shivered to atoms in the courtyard
its summit surround by a cream moat, 
look at resilience its purple fluid 
its kindred shapes a child’s kaleidoscope
scratching the prim rectangular beds 
a cruel vector of birchen pens
sharp and colourful 
the umpire comes out says PLAY 

Wednesday, 13 May 2020

UK PONCHO EMERGENCY (DRAFT/UNFINISHED)




(1/3)

Of a smart new tent
or in a state of localised impunity
push on the fence line 
watching you birdie like wild
grow the balcony where we start
to count three, two, one
sniffing courses of festive line
looking for the close-ups,
want to watch them eat a testicle
we are told smells of sausage
returning to watch them
on the fences you pot that mad
dead adult near perfect child
impress the bunker
makes you feel that bypass
over cleared checkpoints
door re-opens says
now that was a tracking shot


(2/3)

You tell me authorised 
personnel only spills rooted 
inhibitors as by
tying or wrapping
touch this stock with 
speculum brand
the blurred caloric engine
is a poncho emergency
on the perimeter of quarantine
or homeland

(3/3)

You're on the balcony
with those model dream hands
running out the petrol smells
are those future
kidney transplants
your children need


Sunday, 10 May 2020

Metropolitan exercising (DRAFT/UNFINISHED)




Metropolitan exercising ground
dings pleasant demobbing
a chase, a rout marshalled
into view of national history 
pride gets up for honours, 
garlands, plaques, wreaths,
bribes, logrollings
and party per cross the rose
bade favours a spot of 
sport bludgeon on passive site 
the rich vestibule stinks
at the cost of their own death
darn a lace floor cutting 
with dust and flues of wool 
coarsening black ribbon
in underwear the
masters driven testimony 
of a day hole is a chain on 
neck of the child calibrated
to blue and scarlet, 
noise pulls the hungry 
through chastening canard 
the hedged clouds  
minding a view hitherto
padded marketplace 
watch on the mobled curb
under foot the deracinated
companionship merles 
so unkind and dry as chime 
threaded ream of sunlight
on a infringed face soaking up
asthmatic panoramas mouth it 
out quietly as to not upset the
the quiet interior balance 


Wednesday, 6 May 2020

mine - hence not yours; yours - hence not mine





A crap misaim bottled of sable 
colour wired together 
in clop of blondish tuff
asking for dodo meat again outside 
for old times sake an obsolete light 
stills the silk jackets out in  
Cookham melt brittle toenails to the sun 
purlin in defect blat pril the sweet air, 
wherein my joys are a chest pain 
under the dropping floors 
its satyr chorus of imperium 
hard-ons this soil 
is grace and favour like eaves 
shaded long in a psychodrama 
hell submissive loyal to
portfolio marquee screening 
the kindred grandezza in
nacreous snail trail all popped 
white-collar clubmen 
moue in tandem toby jugged
ranine dinner speech  
muzzle the coffers  
mine hence not yours