It's Autumn

When the day is done at 5.

And smoke perfumes the past.

And Shiny Happy People*

is another way to fast.

And the last of the office lights 

make you feel she's gone for good. 

 

It's Autumn. 

(walking home) 

shiny happy people* by R.E.M  

The Motor

Note to her, him and me.

Attach yourself to
to the motor.

Not your ego.
Or those playing virtue notes dirty.

When drowning other boats
is the sum of Christ like purpose
not the maths of a worthy cause.

Attach yourself to
the motor.

And just keep going.

Throw a blanket down

Throw a blanket down -
Insulate a daydream.
You are one of many in a dead end,
sick and tired of waiting.
and as you falter to the window
to smoke your soul for better times...
Throw a blanket down.

Throw a blanket down -
Insulate hope
For the many stood for a common good
and as they have you dressed down
like an old greyhound
who couldn't run fast enough,
whose heart was down the drain
before a shot was fired...
Throw a blanket down.

Throw a blanket down -
Insulate the good times.
Where refresh wasn't so important
and approval wasn't currency
and you couldn't get so far fetched
within your own community...
Throw a blanket down.

Know that many had your back
and every system  has to crash.

The train station

The train station.

A tanked up football fan
singing over an 8 piece brass band.

A fusion of blue language.

The place is scale electrix hectic.

hanging doves look down
on us as if we're all mad.

Spitfire prams, frostbitten hands
No one knows where they're really going.

But that Shakin Stevens cover makes the rush okay

 Merry Christmas everyone.*

Biscuit foil sky / pyro pink

Biscuit foil sky

Sugar screams coming from the high tide.

It's a picture night designed

for heavy shoulders formed 

for carrying so much noise. 

Gulls grace the sea. 

I hope anyone in need

gets the chance to see this.

Biscuit foil sky.

Sea swimmers have soup in their veins 

I push a pram away from the sun, 

 transfixed on its stand off with the moon 

It backs down and bleaches the sky pyro pink... 

Others no longer focused on patchwork pavements either. 

The left give up

Bent over s-d-r-a-w-k-c-a-b

Short of straight answers

Facts are foiled,
used up scratch cards 

Voting records 

line top shelves -
Adult magazines
for the few [not the many]

So many still buy bright
from the bottom.

Billie Holiday is
drowned out
by a low exhaust
She sounds desperate & drained
My legs are heavy
stuck to the floor
I don't feel like doing
anything noteworthy
Because if I try
I'll be by her side.

These days,
I see many photos of
launderettes
I don't know what each
represents.

Perhaps hope for a rare kind
of co-operation

Turning Ninety Three

Such fervent excitement.
She couldn't sleep turning Ninety Three.

Now morning, with her good hand, she takes on a television score

A pause for entertaining the common discourse
Her mind's eye flickers in to life

Music brings the sun. Sunflowers open bask
and then silence_____ Weak kneed she asks

I've still got a few years left haven't I?

This quiver was me as a child hopeful
Christmas hadn't run it's course
as the tinsel came down,
leaving grief stricken walls
and the pine needles met up in the pan
for the last sorry time.

'Yes, of course' my answer - automatic, assuring.

As the conductor rests. She's gone.
We go back to entertaining.
We hope to have her back on again. (soon)



This was about my Nan in law. How her dementia seems to come and go. How it's all invisible and unpredictable)  I also took a lot from this _  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tp6c_oG1SBk

Swindon Bus Station

Swindon bus station,

Everyone fixed to their screens

Mine out of battery

The patchy street birds 
have a tiresome industry

Looking for anything to digest,

other than old amber leaf

In front of me, I pitch a family
 from a war torn Country, 

I wonder about their future

The wave of support oily politicians
get in writing them off,  
Sticking the needle in their life raft 

The little one is crying,
but occasionally a beaming sunshine

His brother has learnt to
 rearrange his hat, rock the pram,
while the Mother contemplates her carousel

Her garments are not very well co ordinated
but smart and colourful in their own right. 

The little one kicks off his blanket,
his pyjamas are Disney.

Perhaps he'll get there one day. 
Until then, Swindon Bus station.

. 

Life could begin.

The sky and sea wed in white

The tide could finally rest

The crashing waves

The seashore's jacket

Keeping humans at bay

Life could begin

Watching creatures swimming

I'm in heaven.

Forgiveness on a loop

Area drained
Voice breaking
Graveyard eyes
are never waking
Forgiveness on a loop
Forgiveness helter skelter
Stranger to the mirror
passing like a commuter
Roll over - tomorrow.
There's always tomorrow.