Monday 1 November 2021





O apparatus the Action Plan downed

inside is starched thermoplastic now

an object position has taught me 

the hyper inflated outcry 

visitors under globe to be careful hailing

I conceded at University College

of Estate Management, a life politics is not politics game over 

Ex cultu robur of horizons on Queen's Rd, 

cut out of sky falls a member ex-officio 

abide with me in hand & hand alone

to be willing closed on 

bloodthrift run over with flowers, 

101 guillotine skies & be banished

Dear Adrian Glasspool, bidding the sun out of your eyes

last burrowed resident we cannot maintain 

'26 acres of land for one person’ 

& hence to be again bloodhooked 

to a croupier fireside the demo-developers 

get lauded into Colophon, ward-mote to Garden Bridge™

bidding in the sun of your eyes

chew nothing much but embers of prole-whispers 


O  march  out,  like  human

beings,  then to  jump,  like  human  beings,  to

run  a  bit,  like  human  beings,  to  go  down  on

one  knee,  like  human  beings,  to lift  their

little  deadly  stick  &  make






give us bad chests solidarity 








to how do you eat with lips of scrim?

&charred linnet buff burning for burnings sake 

curl inside red fuses in armistices how harmful 


O bending verge 



Is a dead body inside a living body 

& all our hornets are your hornets 

& I am stricken your last hectare 

pricked on a swooning sigh

of footholds curacies of a nightlight 

England’s brag-corpsing white

O &much to work ahead the likes 

of which I cannot see the end of asphalt hillocks

in bullring Corps to Body 

starred like screaming hires

twisted my shear clip to tongue end on 

& everybody hot seating Granary Sq.

all bossed up production values 

Stuckhard to granite paramilitary LTD 

muzzled typehard & wish repealed 

ONE MILLION POUNDS of parquetry 

blocks my alumnus incorporation to blood silent 


O fingernail’d symphony goes mutineer atonal 

on the walls of the Bank of England

can-do struwwelpeter all chicanery in the heart of London!

end your lunch

the dart board is fucked 

its eye worm isthmus drops

The  pain isn't  even there,


 & Is love for you at work 

of stagnating & falling dead 

coif metals of jottings clang on louse vapour,

& falling dead show how far behind 

digits in the pay stub survive 

as memos etched & twined 

a spine clanks inside the War of Jennifer's ear 

is bloodworm glue fallen daylight

& ill again sound as death 

expired nozzle to number tight 

O rind to go with imperative plight 

        a restructure broken registrar begins to move 

in centimetres divided service user 

here lays the secretariat 

(insect uniform plucking  & tearing)

&  burning in  &  gangways,

front  doors,  stringent

. c ords  softly  &  firmly  spoken,

rapid  consultat­

ions,  telephone  c a lls ,

concentration,  organisat­

ion.    Total  reaction*

Under  total  control*

Total absence  of the

irrational*   Emotional  und­

e r  the  unbreakable

control  of   NEVER,   CURSE* • that  Common  Market,  double-wreck-it over knuckle out under the whole person at work for  insects hurt  by

fleeing  humans  with  nothing  but  sweat  in  their

hands. blood scaled service user here lays the secretariat 

repeat: lays to never 

lays on the other 

lays a defunct worker nonperforming 

my  eye  hurts,  like full  of  sand.   Splinters. 

lays entering through this  

insects make  you  so  ugly.  Another crime

lays again but not around 

lays once more but finds

perfect  mechanised  insects.


in parricided food inside money bags 

(I still do not comprehend your apologue)

is really existing satire 

or to hear the nearness of muted persons 

yours sincerely,         a raging quiver asking 

what is hopeless work

is someone who continues to believe in work

usually fantasising about work, giving a lot of energy 

to pursuits & to have a deep desire for its partnership 

 crumbles  to  a  heap

to cover the cost of 

a Prescription Prepayment Certificate

to reduce your ongoing prescription costs 

to a union of lanyards wrapped knotted 

of its own actual antinomies a real living life crannied inside 

& you a Workforce Reporting Manager

previously Employee Relations Adviser 

previously Recruitment & Operations Adviser,

whilst completing your magister scientiae 

in Human Resource Management 

worked as a Rewards & Systems Manager 

wherein you produced salary models 

forecasted & made recommendations 

based on organisational performances & external trends 

enabled senior management to conduct staff pay reviews 

with the provision to implement agreed salary reviews 

by instructing Payroll, of this & subsequently by you 

a toothed, funnel-like sucking mouth 

in the continual exercise of spinning straw to gold, 

you breed law to hang on to that which they have

in its bones:

Those who will oppose you are the comfortable ones, those with a shallow desire to hang on to that which they have, those who are ready to yield the outer reaches of their territories, spiritual & material, for a quiet life. Such people will not bear examination beneath the torch of a rigorous national debate.

The fundamental mistake is to look to compulsion to do the work of freedom. The State, the engine of compulsion, cannot create what can only be created by individuals acting on one another.

a life concentrically turning 

on the spy gash held above 

& to build a candidate pipeline previously not existing, remembering you once whispered into twitching sides that 


‘Reporting is easy. 

The system is accessible. 

Everything is automated.’

sanctions a cut to a hole dead 

to £0 a living grating in the eyebrow   

awaken us to opting out of 

the Working Time Regulations 1998

& read from the book of Winchester aloud

& asked what is a hide? 

  1. a type of peasant? 

  2. a shelter?

 (c) a measurement of land? 

or a place you cannot be seen? 

as it clanks in a humming scathe 

moot the vein & clock with a throat full 

of blooded padlocks that is proof enough 

it never counts feral under the baton rounded 

to a cost pride a large bolus; its texture marbled 

taking the charge of a lifetime of disposals, 

a contract for services made 

shrink-wrapped to a raincurtain of pinnace 

chokes the sky & crosses it through 

to an uptake floating scale a matured chime 

locking  day & night out now livid 

in cellulose its orbital home 

moving stupid liquid forever

in the curing of sleep, 

a voice sealed in a ringed outcry 

where no jobs run amok over the proud varicose 

fat on sun-loungers, to watch the juvenile record lash out 

now to watch the choppy sink in badlands 

the saturnalia so eat the chicken wings 

gilded in a better hour