Pothole

Today I've been in my head too much ,

I found my way through the thoughts of others, which is pure guesswork.

The route I know so well, every shortcut, junction and pothole.

Tomorrow I hope to get out and walk.

When did the wheels come off?

When did the wheels of the world come off? 

When a picturesque valley wasn't enough. 

Was it 7 down cider heartbroken teen 

Stumbling on from childhood green

Or failed collective action against a war, 

No amount of death to settle any score 

Shareholder dividends melting ice caps 

while the masses continue to feed off scraps 

When did the wheels come off? 

Or have they been since day dot. 

Messy divorce

And they parted but sent receipts, painful threads in which they'd compete - made photos public of duty free, air miles, blonde beaches, olive skin, teeth white laser grins, the kids cosy with the new partner to really stick the knife in.

And on the beaches with the palm trees and the factor 50 sun they still weren't as far apart as they'd become. 

Additives

I've had my additives and cursed the day, I've wandered again to my wantaway - Summer, another town , anonymity,  unemployment,  none are far fetched but miles away

A series of goodbyes

I'm up to my eyeballs with the hard stuff

losing folks, losing trust

asking what got the better of us?

looking back and finding rust

Settled in to a wave of goodbyes

like a western on a wet night. 

and now and then I buckle at the knees, 

I long for the old guard in a heartbeat. 

I see my youthful pedestal 

a place in which I always fall 

The social norms, the heavenly fall 

The playground 

 playground.

The night bus

The night bus 

under tangerine halogens

every face tired and stressed

the bus has us compressed

spiralised in the eyes

until it's home time.

And I can tell everyone here 

has a level of debt 

to ensure

they'll do it all again

tomorrow.

Your last rights

So, are you ready to let go, to retire

to anonymity...?

To stop being a child of the past 

 To raise deafness to old times 

When you do this...

you will feel cerebral and numb

And there'll no longer be a place

on a pedestal for anyone

But you can start to enjoy today. 

Fix eyed dance

I mourned her exit

I learnt  I'd hear nothing 

but radio silence. 

I knew the lights were up 

on the fixed eyed dance.

I'd have to learn a different stance. 

Life is boom or bust

for who is quickest to adjust, 

at saying goodbye. 

Spectacular views?

These paved streets,

a galaxy of bird shit and gum
through the broken swing up on red lake park
it's all there for you son...
Spectacular views of rising rentals, airbnbs
a smoke filled sky from parked up cars
making tracks for SUVs
and a shimmering sea full of leftovers from the modern man… pumped sewage,
known otherwise as capitalism

It's all there for you son…

But wait, look closer..
There are wildlife corridors
and sunset murmurations 
Night shift saints, hospice hands
with love pumping through their veins
Dinner table laughter, first kiss teens
Demonstrators losing their voices
so others can live in peace
kids on balance bikes and
oaps living a simple life
 

It's all there for you son…

mona lisa

There's a portrait the daily hate paint so well 

Might as well be the Mona Lisa. 

She's floating on her reeboks 

Glued to her iPhone 

Got the kids an xbox

Bloody sloth in her home 

Slicked back hairstyle

Jet black lash curl 

Mahoosive fan of Jeremy Kyle

Got a foodbank tin taj mahal 

Got her benefits on time 

but never paid her mobility scooter speeding fine

not done a days work in her bloody life

And it's all coming from your taxes!

I've yet to see her myself yet,  but the daily hate is convinced she's alive and well. 

And he stood for hours

by the bus stop in June time Coalpool.

On tiptoes, checked his watch, clocked the decks of every bus that stopped

waiting for his Dad's wiry frame to appear from the automatic doors. 

It was pocket money day. 

He rehearsed being greeted by a warm smile and a brandy blushed face 

but his Dad never came.

(deputy head)

*CLAP* YOU COME HERE !

Volts in his veins shot up through

his laser tinted glasses

Spit clutching his rusty beard

The rest worn on the boat of my blazer 

Tonsils raw like those of

Daniel Day Lewis in Gangs of New York. 

He took me to see the head

she looked at me pathetically 

no knee nor breast

or place to rest 

and recover in her royal blue suit

to sit at peace with her perfume. 

At home, 

dizzy with regret, 

I threw up my dinner

My head pounded. 

Mum came in the next day

he became a charmer, 

worked his side parting

Got a glint in his eye.

Said I could sit at the front

of the class with him, 

I looked down at the boat on my blazer

knew it wouldn't keep dry.

It wasn't long before another CLAP.

My work in the bin

 
Marched to the hall 

and sat with my hands on my head

for 20 minutes with him. 

The next day, a new School

I was happy to let that boat drown in his spit.

After shift chat.

Packed on the bus,

We froze,  heads on springs

Listening in.

After shift chat 

'Universal credit this, can't afford that..'

The windows covered in sludge 

Rainfall sinking us further 

pot holes knocking us from side to side.

It took Morrissey to get on, reaffirm and break the ice

'Bloody awful out there' 

Great Grandfather

My Great Grandfather came over from Ireland
to survive the Great famine
He served in the Great War
Took home a Great Stomach wound
It was the size of his fist.
Because of this, he lived to the Grand old age of 49.
I don't know much else about My Great Grandfather.

Apart from living out his last days in
the corner of the living room
with a pipe.

For less sleepless nights

For less sleepless nights

We moved

The glowing thermometer next door 

It was set a safe amber.

The old Hi Fi and disc 

with the gentle, French pianist

who played you to your next wake.

We plugged that in next, flicked the switch . 

Sleep suits, swaddles, muslins  

We moved them all to your room next door.

We stuck stars, our finger prints in blue tac,

above where your head would rest

So you could observe the aesethic of space  

The rocking chair for night feeds

Jet lag sleep repeats

The bed side cot detached, straps undone 

The clips hanging loose, months connected 

We looked at our room for a minute_

Done 

Empty 

Completely. 

And moved it all back. 

Whiplash of spring

The whiplash of spring - it got me in the gut. 

The sun not heeding winter months,

hanging above the sea until the shops had shut 

pools of gulls schooling for when the shoals arrive 

True blue overpowering engine fumes and all the steerer stresses.

The powder cloud of lemsip yesterday

 although I could still taste it, a bit 

Second home

I'm sat here by the radio thinking of your dear old Dad 

Those midnight serenades, his grappa grated husk 

You could hear the pain in his smoke filled lungs. 

Perhaps it was the night time shifts as a nurse

or something from his past.

 

a baby in my arms

I never knew I could dance, until I had a baby in my arms

(to be read in a southern accent)

Blockbuster News

My helpless palm and reflexive thumb

I approach news like Blockbuster on a Saturday night

Rub eye, refresh, red eye, refresh

And I'd throw my phone into the sea with ecstasy 

Only to drown trying to find it again

Soup and vodka

...

One month on a diet of soup and vodka later, we met at the bandstand 
She said I looked great, I said lets give it another go, but she told me she was done. 

I said we'd become strangers. She promised me we wouldn't . Promise again I said... 

I wonder if the years have been kind to her.