Thursday 29 December 2022

Anne Marie Waters with stage IV advanced Metastatic Melanoma, 2022


Oil on Expensive European Canvas

35cm x 35cm 

Mark Stone/Mark Flash AKA Mark Kennedy as a School Girl, 2022


Oil on Expensive European Canvas
45cm x 35cm 

Monday 26 December 2022

Live and let live (Draft)


I am 



on rainwater irrigation system 

disordered habitat of bats and birds

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  

where you grow concrete 

topping out silicon roundabouts  

under mastice verdant solution 

a crying dreadnought klaxons 

 something like xenophobias

 gently slowing the body 

into a rut slurry of mud water 

comes over the civic-minded 

metropolitan landscrapes

then pulls away 

through my drearied heart

disappears from the skies 

to HQ Mountain View

closer to sunlight 

that was never built 

but dug from hills

and there is no fog 

in Therapeutic eurythmy


if I was you, I would not smile 

at present situations 

 for I 

HAHHAthe terms@conditions 

make a red triangle 

which are ills inverted upon you

brightening over glass 

breaks below and the face 

is a future data centre 

its needle wire clanks 

pearlescent heavenly bodies, 

and the moon

of metal, silvered  I am 

HAHHA reversed in life itself

the 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@conditions are

headbangers solidifying into architecture

under rainbow statistics 

eating plume luncheons 

server clangs by crook’d 

bridle tubing; my heart 

undoes the nap-pods

inside a past 

a millennial ungloved 

bleaches white and

accelerates in the dark 

sick lamplight 

its glen perishing eyelashes 

HAHHA liquid soaps 

service of exposed breathe

key change to hide

in love among viaducts 

as the only sense of freedom 

in pause areas I am 

HAHHA a sinkhole 

increases dismantled blood goes in,

atm’s come out 

the history of mercury vapour

lighting greenish white 

over the Centre Management Office 

under hannibal house 

under tempest 

under napping fabrics

secrete through the whole

with bike chains, with

hammers, with wires, shoes, 

belt buckles, with coat hangers, 

wooden spoons and bare hands

,I am 


fastened on a stool

drawn out under zoning 

or regulatory arrangements

featureless trees are broken,

establishes Nue Ground 

at the heart of what we do

eating sachet dust

strategic planning means 

down One the Elephant 

stomp 10 times with english brick,

make into manja line 

coated with powdered glass 

attempt to cut down

all opposing broken pledges 

one by one this bloodshift unnamed, 

face-to-face on retail chains 

and privatised plazas

apologies would you reroute 

the bounds of favour 

into bags of 

discontent or fare flung arrows

with solid lines 

some ‘innovative affordable housing company‘ 

burning letters 

on militant ecologies 

with kindred red on banners backwards

dread planning of your working body

& nb no hope

in sick presence 

ctrl alt del and  

‘Live and let live.’ they say 

I am 

HAHHA hash for life 

under brambles itch 

for today, life hashes

a Brief Job Stress Questionnaire 

lifemarks you shall eat the blood of 

flow, drain, dis

charge have ramified and grown lanyard

inside sore spots, antipathies

e, working, constitutive 

Offices Proposed 

Awaiting demolition Closed 

Awaiting Conversion Business Premises 

Demolished Commercial Premises Gone 

inverted to love

at the end of night   

and touch the intimate nerve 

I am 


Thursday 22 December 2022

Bookmarks (draft/unfinished)



–We’re going to do an ambush, yeah

–Yeah! see that there? that's an HA flag that  

there that's the  Hddflag but they’ve disguised it 

so you can’t recognise it

black and red though, isn't it! 

–yea black and red so you can’t recognise it

–I’m just going to go in and ask 

for some awkward books, so they can’t recognise 

me just wait 3 minutes isn’t that long, 2 minutes 

3 minutes…isn’t that long is it 

–so they can’t recognise 


Opens door

–Excuse me sir?  

Have you got a copy of Enemies of the State? no…no 

or Muhammad’s Quran? No..maybe..No 

or Tommy Robinsons Muhammad’s Quran?                     



–Corbynist pedophile lovers 

–Pickering fucking pedo scab. Traitor?!?

Do you have no books on Gramsci? 

Do you have no books on pedophilia? 

violent fascist communists I demand all the books 

on pedophila here now in my hand!

pickering on my 

recurrent flashing my

heart rate you scalded  

to be kept in —they’ve disguised so you can’t recognise 

look at this clopping shit massive giant cloud

my frozen tongue my lunar light 

the future is society 

breaking into bruised life 



Today, why don't you leave the planet?!!,!? 

no books so you can’t recognise 

they’ve disguised it 

your mind is broken your mind

is fucking broken articulate a sound,

a feeling a sensation Pickering bin of lillies 

that is my feeling Pickering 

shut down for hatred

my feeling 

my hate as it criminalises 

I refuse to plead I demand all the books 

on pedophila here now 

pickering on my 

recurrent flashing my

country is bleeding to death. 



The lord is my shepherd, I shall not want 

he leadeth me into green pastures 

the sun also rises as an act of habit

or estimating 

worth during an interspace 

of habit estimating better times 

when the flames spread radially 

around petals and all were alight, 

stems rose slowly from the gaping 

floorboards peeling upright  

with a single massive flame 

a sacred gasping clap went 

around the anvils of my tears, 

The country I love is bleeding to death.

Deliberately I refuse to plead to pedos  

& is alive beneath the surface 

of the skin or dead tissue 

there are some places left to die there are some people left to die 

Look you fucking corbynite 

life has tired out in rings of shite

enter the pantheon of folk music

enter at the end of a night 

to touch my intimate nerve as it coils 

round a call for vanished faces 

and everywhere becomes suddenly birdsong 

and morning doves and the dirt beneath my feet

 bodkin points 

through my lashing tongue 

sticks me here to the seven nation army generation

as it passes away 

another generation cometh 

in this earth abideth forever 

the queen of england 

the Corbynosphere.  

A river running alongside everyone 

paid in golden sovereigns 

no one was ill or died 

the weather was perfect 

and you could get 200 pints of bitter 

for a quid 

in a bushel the English National Dance 

is Boomps a Daisy, the war has ended  

the water has been

drained and filled in with

flowers! oh! & our boys never left home 

they worked hard and made do with nothing 

Sixtus Dominic Boniface would hold the annual coconuts shy

we would all be burning the European Maritime Safety Agency manifesto.

The country I love is bleeding to death, 

but they’ve disguised it so you can’t recognise it 

a mantel of suet patsy, a soft touch 

we use to beat frogs to death 

O' old glories of the palaestra

in the midsummer evenings remember

the river the games field

the view was undying; 

rushes by the water every day in sotto voce.