31 March 2015

Lemon trees and Strawberries...

Memories like Lemon trees,
some bitter,some sweet some sticky.

Memories like Strawberries,
get what you get cant be picky!.

28 March 2015

Oh Shantaram....

your word's are glued to my blood,living with me.
Did you really press your lips to the sky and lick the stars?
I bet you did, words dont lie.

Did you taste Space?
Nibble Mars , lick some stars?
I know you did Shantaram.
Was it cold? Space have colour?
Does Purple night drape the Desert of Forever?
Or another colour smother the other?

Did you see Winged Women, cellophane Princesses
floating, did you hear their wings beat?

Did you hear death cries as Stars fell from dark skies?
Can you hear that up there?
Was the air full of dreams, Space beams , strange flying machines?
Did you see it Shantaram?

Shantaram licked the stars, and Uncle Sam went to Mars.
Did you see that?
Did they see that?
Would you do that?
Land on Mars or kiss Stars?


Choose a mask he shouted, hide yourself behind it.
You make me sick is what he said.
He grabbed my head.
Choose a mask! he screamed!
Spit hit me, he grinned sins at me.

He was the lowest gold, a dirty diamond,
short but broad.
He looked like a fisherman and stank,
stank of bait and hate.
Spat when he screamed.

Choose your mask now!
You can't comprehend me he said,
Im incomparable he said.
Choose a mask he shouted quickly,
choose a fucking mask, manically.
He hit himself against things in front of me,
berated and hated me,shouted foul smelling
words at me.

Tears swell and bowells fell.
He repeated his mask mantra, incessant insanity.
Choose your mask!
But I never believed he wanted me dead.

Fowl flew and barn doors too.
Paratroopers grouped stooped and trooped
the small broad man.

Choose your masks he screamed at the troopers.
Pop of a gun, red dust flew around his head.
He fell dead clutching two masks in one hand.
But i think i understand.
If one man has two masks hes not a man,
he's to sick.

20 March 2015

The Gardeners.

Rolling lawns and herbaceous borders, arbours and arches.
Arches and screens for climbing means, clematis and runner
Jasmine scents the stoned pathways.

Sandstoned with style, small walls jut separating lawn from lawn.
Borders sprawl tall growing annuals.
Golden Rods and yellow Broom.
Roses red in full bloom.
Wisteria borders doors and windows blue and flowing.
Laburnum trees with yellow streams of reams.
Petals sleep on the lawns, everythings growing.

But now the lands untended, weeds strangle with nettle and
Without care the Garden dies and nature cries.
Lawns all dead, weeds two feet high, no floral slendour greets the
Just weeds and dead wood, ants nests adorn the once precious lawns.

The airs bad now, the Garden tried.
The Gardeners dead now so the garden died.

Time waits for no man though, and with time shoots grow.
Roots  reborn dig and slither through fresh earth.
Cells multiply, and photosynthesis brings with this new growth.

A new Gardener guides his flowering brides and sees the seeds hes
sown grown and reach for the skies.
Lord of the land, the Gardeners hand.

Liberty Caps

Everything was too fast.
Everything moved and breathed.
Everything was hectic and manic,
wide eyed and panic!

Fireworks poured out of clouds, and fires cackled blue.
I saw the atom sign above houses, it was revolving,
turning in on itself, then massively wide and whooshing!

People were distorted, my feet felt wet in my Nikes.
Stuff in my eyes, floating head debris and gold

I stumbled through rocks, rough terrain.
I climbed through rock over and under through the other sides,
to where I started.
Scrapped my knee on scree and red powder blew around me.

The atom sign still whooshing overhead.
The Liberty Cap still whooshing inside my head.

Giant black letters of felt whipped out of lights,a lighter produced
flying black felt letters, bird like.
Spelling bad things.
Car headlights throwing out words.
Streetlights buzzed with flapping black letters of leathery felt.
Moths and vowells around lights in towns.
Word's bouncing off bins into shop windows and sticking,
lights flicking, words whipping!

Then it stopped, felt black letter's crawled into floor spaces and vanished.

Lights stopped because the Sun rose.
I coughed gently, wiped my mouth and turned my head, swallowing
Fingers tingled as i put more Liberty Cap's between my lips.

The day the big man died.

Do you remember?
Do you remember the day the Big man died?
Do you?

Do you remember how terribly violent he was,
can you remember that?
Can you remember his eyes, the size of his hands?
You do remember.

You remember how he stank, his odour, his massive
I cant forget the smell of his sweat.

He set the street on fire!
The Big man killed the town.
Lost his family,smashed to pieces photos of nieces,
sick and shit on the floor.
The police smashed down his door.
They took him away, the Big man, you remember?

Not every town has a Big man, not like our town.
Not like our Big man.
That was the day he died.

Moon Farms...

Phospheric plumes and moon farms dotted the landscape.
An escape to another reality, drowning in the Cosmos ethereality.

I only looked through a gap in the wall, thats when it happened.
I turned to tell my friends my find, then I realised id been left behind.
In a new world.

Silence and mercurial colours.
Silent tornadoes, plumes and farms, reminiscent of the inside of marbles,
that magic swirl inside.

Time change irregularities and round water, gravitys games.
Round water leaves the hand dry.
Phospheric plumes rise into the sky.
The grounds a bleached Peach colour, irremoveable sand.
Only the air dreamed.

The smell in the air was plastic like erasers.
No breeze no trees just whirlpools and swirlpools plumes and farms.

Moon farms like bubbles out the ground, perfectly round and formed.
Like balls of volcanic lava firing upwards, produced from petfectly
round looking puddles.

Sky baby yellow ,floor Peach.
Formed moons pour from the floor onwards and skywards.
Still being seen when they've gone, like dreams popping but

Cowboy and Clown.

Like hell when you close your eyes,
if only.
Haunted and lonely.

Clown's and Cowboys taunt me, grinning.
Clowns bow tie spinning.
Cowboy changes colours and keeps grinning.

Whens it gonna end, this brain bend,
this sick claw inside.
Whens my mind mend, and the claw withdraw?

Got more gruesome faces.

I see they've decided to climb inside my mind and
find the pulleys to pull, to make my skull shake,
shatter and break.

So tears fall like the clowns, as the cowboy rides through
But the Clown and Cowboy that haunt me,
return to taunt me, and I laugh at them, then shoot them.
Then the sunrises.

picture a puddle.

Picture a puddle, plate shape round.
A zillion miles deep,
no bottom to be found.

Now the puddle that you picture
so perfectly round, turn it around so
the top cant be found.

Now your facing the bottom,
cos bottoms side up, open the cupboard and grab a cup.
And drink from the puddle,
whether bottom or top,
cos it all tastes the same,
every last drop.

Sobriety. ...

I will succeed and live again,
and be the real me.
I can feel me coming back again,
shackles snapped and free.
Ive started to dream again,
like the Dr said,
all the dreams are bad that pour inside my head.

But clouds will lift,
and sun will shine,
and ill shower the world,
with words not wine.

Im physically strong and my brain soon too.
Youll soon see when I fire words at you!

The pen is mightier than the sword
available to all.!!

Mojo Risin...


Always a word man never a bird man,
he wrote.
He was haunted by his sights,
Indians scattered on dawns highway bleeding.

He was young and witnessed death,
the dieing Indians last breath.
It was his frail egg shell mind, he left behind, haunted.
But words replaced memories and feelings, and Doors opened from floors to ceilings.

Seize the day, the days divinity, and freeze the way the dsys dig into me.
I'll rise like Mojo,
and choose where I go,
I'll go my way,
not dawns highway.