That’s the way you made me feel
Forget about it
Outside is inside
What’s mine is yours
It’s time for the Tower of London
Treat me like a forsaken child
As I imbecile the hours away
Seeking things that my mother would say
And never getting past 11.30 without some tea and biscuits.
Subordinate this and control me later
I may quit this job and become a waiter.
Settle some debts and pay karma back appropriately
For some skull drudgery
Before the Druids come back from lunch
I have a hunch they know where I hide.
No Time For “Rawhide!”
Will things settle down as I dine out at lunch
Coerced by the conditioned Church
In the centre of Colmore Row
Things my Ego should know
There’s not much rowing going on here
As I eat my sandwich and gobble down my fears.
They seem to know I am all mouth and ears
Handling my sob story about being so single
It’s just because they want me to compose a catchy jingle.
Jingle all the way to the bank, however
By the end of the month I sum up nicely
“I’m so clever”!
ego
Let Me Go
If you set me free
From the shackles of your past
I will promise to be there for you
When you pass the buck again.
It was alright for you
Trojan warrior and horse play
Crew neck T-Shirts and jumpers
When you wanted the Blue Review.
It was behind you
And you had all the settling you wanted
From the beginning to the end
Now I have to make amends.
And you throw all of history
Away like a life lined with letters
And a member of the illiterate
With the Illuminati beside Thee.
Save some thoughts for me
Let me get back to you
And see if I can do good too.
This is for you
Mt poetry emission truth
And see if you climb down your Ego.
There, I said it.
And my O.S. is just fine
Thanks for asking
It’s all in the taking, you see.
Then we can journal and write whatever you see as right
Just let me know what light is left on with the West v East so uptight.
The Number Two
Can you sing Hallelujah when others have taken credit?
For the ounce of flesh of your delivery and your comma:
You’re not with it!
Can you sell The Big Issue when the price is a foreign gypsy?
Would you sell the Free House of India if you were more than tipsy?
Topsy Turvy.
Do you think you own the language and the history courses without fees?
Of drummed up little students with the New Age I-Pad on their knees.
You’re number one baby!
Do you like to dress in Indian clothes but not know of Hindustan?
Could you ask your parents to remember better than Imran *F’Ing Holy Bloody* Imran Khan?
You’re the money, baby!
Is it dinner or a Diner when it’s a tenner for some exchange?
And does your diet leave you full with your Ego at the shooting range?
Master & Servant.
Can I join you down the Fabian Society and wear chords and a crap shirt?
Will you tell me if my English deodorant hurts?
Food glorious food.
Did Jesus live in England and did he know of your version of events?
So maybe one millennium of failure is what your future is going to have meant:
All in good time.
Were you a flag when a country made you feel proud and did you shoot another’s gun?
And what were your Sanskrit records when your drinking cost the country Number VONs?
We fought and died for our freedoms.
There is not much in the asking of fair exchange except some safety on some streets
When the British balance check books for some chips and fishy deletion
Of accounting standards with PWC and Birmingham FC
Still full of false rhyme & Shakespeare’s crimes.
I can rhyme too
‘T’ is for Two. Removed.
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?
Wild Stage 