Thursday 29 October 2020

I’m not a piece of shit I’m a piece of society

For workable antinomy

new decimal impressed

on the condition of 

intense purified awareness

of the young and the state

of their coherence is to

make distinct concentratedly

despite throbbing uncertainty

of being just right relief 

to the social kernel of abolition

patter the balance looks 

like austerity produced this 

urban stampede and the unkillable

infants with no name or place

stiffen in the air preserve 

this basmati as a living 

thriving literalness 

taking in a 360 degree

revolution of a world 

and says: 'I'm not a piece

of shit, I'm a piece of society'

will never be exhausted 

by feeble sketches or 

piloted extinctions 

in tinctures with lease 

go down our debt is 

mind-dependent and a negativity

so negativity you say a tungsten 

ring is forever but the basmati

is still a living thriving literalness  


In Derbyshire

In Derbyshire the sound did rush

by parody that power 

and its quietus made exquisite

workmen reeled the whole orchestra

touches property to self-defense 

the front door said the roof is lost

and the day is wet, 

to give up and to be given

into grit pain on the beach

towel pavement to inspect

to bring closer dying 

they never crease to show

they've never went in the face

yet living and you don't

always get what you want 

living plenty til empty 

our friends crowding to the 

blood-banks gel ringed against 

a city our skin is to pacify rags 

taste of dogs filial pathos 

like a fence line defending us 

from that fridge-freezer incinerator 

you that air cavity ran up

by smoke the exhaust sparks

to blares fire fed us as we inlay

the empires water frame

Monday 26 October 2020




Thursday 22 October 2020

good boy sprig of common broom (DRAFT/UNFINISHED)

Manse old tongue 

loafed smug over kill switch 

does it sink eternities of kitchen 

gardens to a mock mercy 

stroking the panic bell 

screw over no council tenancy, 

mezzanine debt to the gatekeeper foot solider

persona non grata 

the sacred hermit harder than stones 

not yet descending with cash spilling

from sentry pockets puckered gumps

coiled nettles in my eyes, 

make me say sorry forwards 

again for a back trouble of history 

poor borage on nose bow 

get well soon remedy, poison 

and scapegoat

Tuesday 20 October 2020



Private detectives/geneticists 

an etched out muset in scale free networks

a thousand petty grievances

change that and fix dynamics 

in human contracts make them

break with our ethos, make them disappear 

in old moons, the baby traffic from elite homes 

where history shows rancour in a heirloom, 

to gaze on a genome from Barnard Castle 

silvery white herald moths 

all fall in a pile of out-groups

remaining get route brained-fix fucked 

to brand diviners reject piddle rushers 

coupon your phlegm customarily 

out puffed ardent cup-bearing liege man 

swine of lapsed English intelligence!  

Jack-in-office burrowed deep 

in cheap frozen yogurt 

ask yourself to be or to do!

peel back skin look demented feed out

of maniac milk, gene tree cometh sprightly 

Robert Heinlein at the Gates of Salamis,

crashing out a stammer bags the rational 

fraction to fragile refinement 

look piss-head its global warfare, 

light up the fuckers, race to the top 

by lonely song geared and warm 

in bluebell light ameliorate 

the grim cycle fMRI scans of people 

playing financial crisis, beys his money keep

firebreaks prediction becomes impossible

unhinging my rubber hand to joy 

of macro-scale tightly coupled at 

the safety gates remember rain in Leeds

on your closing lids 

a stony wind, now tyre thick love

hemmed at Law and the people mantis 

wait in malediction I'm sat on colluding loam 

steely misery every line revised 

and bent of care look at naked floorboards  

and wondered, trying half remembering 

to do the knuckle-down or besmirch 

pride as punishment the quality of heat 

ringed out as harness of mine and my own,

a clearer sheet of morning lute 

over the ordinary sun and be

not with this nerve gaggle 

piquing on nights in wet tremens 

or as if this won't wait for me

a hurried bangle of jute and ulcers clawed up,

of course it will wait its willing neck! as it pangs 

gladly prig my ear my national jeremiad 

in representing no people
o'ere the mess crossbred before we set sail
on stewed grass so green 
the sad equals will not calibrate

Monday 19 October 2020


On a life residency by the racket
 specie it ebbs away this
coup or communique
and so clearly the tariff of 
good faith will be deferred
to the imaginary children of the future, 
sometime later all rolled in primrose 
under broiling suns 
hereditary principle castes out 
a glorified head in patina, 
Countryside talks to me about tax efficiency! 
walk out on England
wash my hands with coal soap
back again, bad trip not worth 
seized liver fits 
a narwhal tusk put it inside me
in variable axon out cures 
sleep to coffin bone and the laminae, 
sometimes a purple seal on blood stricken
this lord of misrule harping with thread veins 
to soften your forehead 
relax your shoulders, this is a reminder
to stop holding tension in the body
waking from home I have cancelled everything
and now free to march out to nobody ever
extinguish this compass, tolerance gone
ratiocinated to maximal cliques fizz
its free from value and so sinks in orbital
white flag a sweeter-tone fluid 
dims the carousel,
at least you have your living room 
to pace about in your cadged chariot 
heart rivets and then breaks 
a detail-orientation team plays 
through crying, 'I hate music!' 
you say wipe out and clear 
the keys start your living, decline 
in your vast apartment light filled spacious 
beyond the viewing deck, bordering
formations of little prows in queues
otherwise know as people, its April next year
Friday perhaps! people still about, 
although smaller queues you guess why! 
the seat you feign from you have 
forgotten how to walk, turned inside 
relax your shoulders this is only a reminder

Monday 12 October 2020

Wednesday 7 October 2020

Muscular Education (DRAFT)


Bombardier, the vein of leaf

provides early warning signs 

of danger like a plume in the 

industrial furnishings remember

nothing changes hands now;

hands have gone to heaven 

with roses bestride slipping under 

the structural adjustment programme,

reached a flotilla of budding poppies

I lock out all the tantrums of mind

inside are pseudo adult-children

crying wall to wall in Burton Montagues

kicked me in, went pan barbaric 

my swaddling clothes cut up 

like meat at dinner 

I retained my backbone mind, 

filed combat mode eating the loam with birch buds 

nightly, long and hard in the shit and drawn blood

muted you feckless lilly prute 

go blaston go sea! days of sunshine and 

youth mounting guard the cold mud 

hardly a day passing without the mortal 

cod this my metal in plastic nerve

where is my Justice of peace? 

outside old men one heart valve you exit 

the perimeter is everything a platoon 

splits in the craven mind the wind blows 

Hans Zimmer film score on plucky wooden wings 

over tossing fireworks 

into fires Master looks on people 

they make you laugh, you know 

falling across the tv I slogged for!

woe these frig clips to

stopcock or wiretap do not weary me

where is my Justice of peace? 

where are the backsides of culprits?

Winklepicker bloodsport 

gentled by European Union legislation,

still it's about personal honour that 

never dies its blue club faintly sinking 

giggling into the sea so be it! 

and now they want OUR milk! 

well that's business! 101 

pennies don’t fall from heaven drearies!

STOP and we’ve curved the vapors of Hades 

they sniff the albumin of satanics, 

out of dodge and into the broadside pleasure-land

sing and valse away with 

coats and hats and so on 

reached a flotilla of budding poppies

I lock out all the tantrums of mind again

eat my loam with birch buds 

twice nightly, they make you laugh, you know 


You, Sir Piggate admit

an air of Benthamite utilitarianism!

christen it simple and morally good action

repeat on Christmas, roasting animus

it is necessary, remember plain and simple! 

and you must mast for service, 

silence for speech! Listen

salvum iam facito tu dominum

a rĂ©chauffĂ© was served up, you didn’t eat it

an invisible hand shudders over you ever since

remember why two silver spoons you couldn't

red nose in Church Of England prayerbook, 

kiss tight to bursting heart upon the raised dais

after dusk sine die, get backbone 

drag behind sore old growing ripening inside

boys remember running through reeds and rushes 

para bellum my legs boys on the pulse, bin of lilies 

get backbone drag behind ripening inside 

my sacerdotal dad made of dust 

bigger than your dad, also made of dust 

I wish him a strange sort of happiness, 

there is no pain two silver spoons there is 

only angels gulping salt water everlastingly 

I see my sinner brazes with eminent grise

I call it Masher, king of misbehaving and sitting in

Boughs preparing a brief speech to the assembled

boys now men no pain now just calendric time

days of sunshine and youth do not wash 

cobnut it is the tenderest

lovebite I ever hastened, could you sore that 

spot rub-a-dub here my final demand, my Masher 

death approaches call me Dave, here simply

my Desert Island disks; Adagio for Strings or

My Old man is a dustman, depends who’s asking!