Stumbling Blocks

As I reach for the shelves in thew kitchen by the stove
I am reminded of the terror that is beside the one and only Karl Motherfucking Rove.
To whistle while I work and Twerk the PWNed out of my aunt’s autonomy
And let me know what Masala Gandhi took when he is after my lobotomy.

Then there is the tomorrow man who never comes knocking at my door
Like a lightsaber from Wesley Clarke Jr who is always ready for some more,
Action from The Young Turks in case disaster is what he did
When he said he accomplished missions while playing with Iraq’s Id.

Stop, look and listen as I motion towards the cooking pot
To add my own ingredients from an Israeli object I find quite some hot,
Without the flare of Obama’s arms shipments a few days before peaky blinders
And elections from Oprah Chopra that shame me never to calendar reminders.

Left, right, twirl: It’s as if the beauty queen has moved in next door
And the man with his pigeons next to my garden’s broken fence
Is alight with the prospect of solving the problem of Noam Chomsky’s problem whores,
Whence they came and Whence they will lead off to: The Economic Zoo,

For Greenspan to sap the homo-sapiens and let isness leave us ashamed for a few
More days of Clinton on The Daily Show telling time what to do
With memory and desire when the pants are on fire from the youth
That don’t know what lies can come and go like life for me and you.

Me and you oscillating like a rhythm on the shoes of universal disorder
That soaks me in bathtubs for depression to get back to working life order
Where the nights are full of colour and the days have their dark sides too
And men can call up women and date on websites along with the human zoo.

X-Men zooming in on me and zooming in on you,
Is that what to do when things grow shorter
And life is not a Kalpa for the Chillum within the crew

Chortle and Pantaloon stew in the evening by the Stevenage
And don’t forget the boat rides on the Thames for those remember men.

Somethings are not repeatable.

Since You’ve Been Gone

Since you’ve been gone
Say it isn’t so
That you wasted all of my talent
To make your girls get some Blow.

That’s not the way it was meant to go
When I did not still the window sill
To sully the sulking morning
When you had not money for coffee.

Is that me or my lonely girlfriends
When they are at their wits ends
To know what to do with the balance of time
Before a Porn show meant you could not be mine.

Best friend, hired mate, time to turn in late
Tell the others you know it’s a better masturbate.
If I did know then sell me some forgiveness
Across the telephone line from the 80s% margin men
Who may charge less for us to get suave again.

That is the main things in life
To have some understanding of man and his wife
Even all the social change is through
So work can be productive in the Beyond about me and you.

Mr 2 Write

There are things you say I should not say
Like sorry to the hedges I cut on the way
When I sold my shares initially in sorrow
To buy my way out of footsie for tomorrow.

I’m the best, my nation said so
That’s the way that one’s got to go.
#AndWhenImDone there’s nothing left to do
Except folly and old fortune for the Armada Hampstead crew.

Battle me this and cohabitate me with the vacuum that:
Where is the honesty in the open handed approach to the road :-
The road east of Vancouver where the radio check is preapproved
Like a beer t-shirt ripped open for the cover of Summit recovered.

Too easy to shin and far over the older beard to shine
There is a head where the coupling will be diners.
It’s not all sandwiches at Waitrose when the beat is on the minute;
Leave me an iPod when you get the time to be on a zillion.

My Henry Kissinger and that’s the top hat blown
Like the Top Hotel we have not shown with all the shows on far from Noam.
Is there any cover left for the car he is bereft off having not shown foam
For the parties he carries a tune for. Mr Canary and the way back home.

From Siam I have flown and known the airport underneath my feet
Where the Jetstream is some cold cleaners and Mr Sheen for the Air Host’s feat
To jump so many moons to keep up with those Shrooms
And whatever did not Clear while Florida kept Ron Hubbard with Martin Clunes.

Underground with the dune buggies and up top where the hatch is blown
So much more the Saviour, so much more the way back home.
Something for me and something for you
A way to the routine in Jalandhar for the coded cabin crew.

Something for me and something for you
Take anything you like from the top shelf: I’m done with the quarterback Jew.

Monsters of Game

Monsters of fame know the game that I name
But redrawers of old drawers cannot know the originality:
I claim! Stay with me & you will see. That is seeing,
And I am being. Keyboard, laptop & mouse:
If I am not grateful for my house –
Then who is the Conglomerate upon me
Greater than the North Sea and the airspace now governed by the School of Commoning
And evolutionary strains for more melody than harmony
| The right to not be repeated |
Poetry will not be defeated.
Even clowns have hands to stand on,
Do not admire the programmers’ random.

There is no-one to know how the space can be cleared
Fellows handle doorknobs for men being a different kind of fellow they fear.
Estimation is a cleverer way of describing the giving
That has not thanks in the miniature that is still living
After the wars of the East that fell down for the cleanest cocking
Of a gun to not know the right time to go door knocking
And find the Dame with the same man: Sing to me your Christmas plan.

Some games knew boards and the years bowled over wickets
So that the PLO could go underground and down below
The seas of the wavelengths for Mata’s density and travels
In the New Age of opened bowels and tortured remains
So that Puja could clean brains and Aarti told Saraswati:
‘Better the devil she knew’. Time is through with you
Clouds have fractures and health knows matters
Knowledge is in tatters and men know manners.

So be polite as Jews feminise the day
And hurry back home from the Christian who is Jolly Roger,
Tomorrow it is karma for the Muslim to have sway
As Mind Body Spirit stays with it for ‘Who is gay?