Thursday 30 June 2022

Sidyngborne (draft)



For to mourn here 

each day the Tudor Rose 

is 99p, and the king loses nothing

on clay substrate sinking again 

midstream in dead grass

with wrecked boats 

where nothing lives 

from Recreation Way 

to Green Porch Close 

and Holy Trinity Church 

sometimes in grasswort 

and golden samphires, 

for protection against 

the hard reed bed 

 look out at the Swale 

under the new EU

directive is brown-red 

and the unpeopled estate 

is the mud of UK paper, 

where the Fleet Streets conspired 

amongst the migrant moths

near Ridham Docks 

known by their fruits 

of Euromix concrete

O watch ward over veil 

at Christmas 1454

as the topsoil yields 

a silver penny

that the mad gene carried

from France, 

and containerboard a red knot

on Roman walk badly paved 

the whistling postman 

not from France but from 

bourne stands sometimes sits 

but does not beg

for it is charity 

and he is old

and stays in the memory 

like the Battle of Britain 

or a Christmas fire.

I would walk the creek

near pipes of Milton Pipes

anon out the earth 

and not say nothing 

I would go to The Saxon Shore Way

formerly Church Marshes Country Park, 

formerly a disused landfill site 

 to Toy Town

stand in middle of palm tree

roundabout or  

with pylon in the middle

and ask, blind men

where am I?  under venerated springs,

or a post industrial pilgrimage?

and said to song 

as a place of inns and bore most 

where it ought not to bear 

at all, and it did not bear 

at all where it ought 

to have been borne most

Tuesday 28 June 2022

Groundscraper HQ (draft)

Groundscraper HQ

I am 

K R I E G 


on rainwater irrigation system 

disordered a habitat of bats and birds

and now fallen through 

the future hybridisation of work 

is, 0's – ticked through air morgues 

 mutter in synthetic turf 

of Teletubbyland, 

starred out tiara on 

      the head of this fabulous city,

is a wellness centre  

straits over cut

grown concrete

and the topping out ceremony 

finishes silicon roundabouts  

mastice retreats in verdant solution 

a crying dreadnought 

 something like xenophobia

 gently slowing the body 

into a rut 

as a slurry of mud water comes over 

the civic-minded metropolitan landscrap

curls then pulls away 

snaps through my heart!

and disappears from the skies 

to HQ Mountain View.

For a future data centre, even closer

to sunlight that was never built 

dug from hills

there is no fog 

in Therapeutic eurythmy


if I was you, I would not smile 

at present situations 


K R I E G the terms and conditions 

a red triangle which are ills upon you

and to feeling unsafe 

ARGENT held tight despite

old inward chuckling 

bright over glass breaks light 

and the corners become shallow 

and the face is a future data centre 

and its needle wire clanks 


of heavenly bodies, and the moon

of metal, silvered  I am 

K R I E G reversed life

in flora I frequent my line of interest

there are countless tales of people 

merely wishing to take photographs 

being hassled by uniformed goons 

in ostensible public space, 

the terms and conditions are

again headbangers 

solidifying into architecture.

Under rainbowed statistics 

devouring smoke-plumed servers

hung by crook’d 

 bridled tubing; my heart 

and the sleek sickly 

privatisation nap-pods  

frozen inside is the past, 

but now we

the young and strong optimisers

pitilessly remark 

your broken bodies! 

into heads a jubilee of seeing them 

crouched doglike in the atrium 

light up your headboards!

erect sun on the vein of worry

hurt the timeserver 

a millennial glove bleaches white 

as strong and sane, 

acceleration no handbrakes 

 in the sickroom lamplight 

through glen perishing eyelashes 


K R I E G liquid soap 

services of exposed breathe

key change to hide

amongst viaducts 

as the only sense of freedom 

in pause areas 

get actionable 

forfeit the glass dewdrop fabrics 

in defiance to the stars. 

Monday 27 June 2022

Potters Bar (draft) (1/3)


Signal passed at danger

Hatfield to Kings Cross

and gael time locks

a Theologian, 

at 45 degree resurrection

from the bridge 

over Darkes Lane

the masonry falls again

where the cypress ferns 

empties glint,

over mock tudor cul-de-sacs 

it's for the children's sake

like mud mounds or butter fields

under pylons, there 

are Blakean children under the

London Orbital

its ceiling concrete

to runic prophecies 

and walking is virtue 

would go to the garden

city for ginger 

and irish soda bread 

like ancient drovers’ tracks, 

the sprawl of london

where the unicorn wears a crown 

of moss and gets buried 

along the whole 127 Mile  

city turned inside-out

and salvage at least one cobbled hill

still twisting about a living good

humming on You. and come clean 

in thrashes the whole 127 Mile

watch rats on mutton lane, 

beneath your shoes pillboxes 

grey cement gnomes 

in the morning outside 

The Umbanda Temple 

behind a St. George flag configured into

popcorn, cigarettes and hard cider

the spirit of The Green Man 

is by VPS security 

Wednesday 22 June 2022



SÉ14 5BD
Mon 11th PV: 18h - 21h
Tue12th - Thurs 14th: 12h - 18h
Fri 15th open by appointment
Sat 16th: 12h - 21h

I am K R I E G (draft)

I am 

K R I E G where a sinkhole 

increases and gone dismantled 

blood goes in, ATM’s come out 

the history of mercury vapour

lighting greenish white 

over the Centre Management Office 

with all the broad acres flung yearly

by the Crown Estate 

run through the whole

and govern the rest 

now by forefinger unsubdued, 

throngs undismay'd

debt like ardour press 

afraid of or with bike chains, 

hammers, wires, shoes, 

belt buckles, coat hangers, 

wooden spoons, 

and bare hands

under hannibal house 

under tempest 

under napping fabrics

by firefly and waterspout 

gets destroyed secured in

,I am 

K R I E G 

stitched up 

and fastened on a stool,

draw out the end of fibres 

arc fucklight 

now wrapper-eaten; I am 

K R I E G featureless 

trees they are broken,

establish Nue Ground 

it is at the heart of what we do

eat sachet dust;

and strategic planning means 

to down One the Elephant 

break its glass 

stomp 10 times with a brick,

make into manja line, 

coated with powdered glass, 

and attempt to cut down

opposing broken pledge 

cut down bloodshift and  

 unamed, hunting 

face-to-face on retail chains 

and privatised plazas

on careful private apologies

would you reroute 

the bounds of favour 

into bags of 

discontent and fare arrows

 with solid lines representing 

statistically significant paths, 

and broken lines 

to show the nonsignificant paths

and numbers beside 

arrows show the direct

standardised path coefficients

indirect effects 

through the variables 

are explained in the Results section

live in  ‘innovative affordable housing company‘ 

ha ha. take benzo halogen 

 use path model, with scores 

of job stressors, psychological 

and physical

I'm on automation   to be wrong  stupid agencies 

and farewell these springs the Queen's-wells

 for the benefit of drinking waters

  the chalybeate  

 to unscaled alcoves 

 argued that "starved" would be a better term

go down to scullery and sit in 

form a queue  around tattered reed, go to 

welfare room crimp menial tuffs 

your mouth splinters clawed at trembling hand,

I am 

K R I E G &

K R I E G alone burning letters 

on militant ecologies 

with kindred 

to rest bloodhound 

want red on banners backwards

dread, planning of your working body

behind hidden gates bent 

in disguise & nb no hope

in sickness presence 

ctrl alt del and  

‘Live and let live.’ they say 

I say our stoolpigeons entice

cullings among enemies 

caustic thoughts as well

in the datum of probe census 

I am 

K R I E G hash for life 

under brambles and itch 

for today, life hashes

a Brief Job Stress Questionnaire 

marks you shall eat the blood of 

flow, drain, dis

charge have ramified and grown  lanyard

sore spots, and developed antipathies

e, working, constitutive 

Offices Proposed 

Awaiting demolition Closed 

Awaiting conversion Business premises 

Demolished Commercial premises Gone 

inverted into love

at the end of a night   

 to touch the intimate nerve 

I am