LOVEY-DOVEY DONUTS
Unmarred
Peace,
At last.
No more consternation that rips y’ guts out and brings a cloud of depression.
Peace,
The end.
A new beginning,
Where the future lies open and beautifully unknown, unknown.
No more war,
A retreat.
A withdrawal from the knowledge that one is hated and despised,
No more of that.
Loneliness before.
Loneliness now,
Solitude is a more acceptable word but there y’ go, y’ can’t have everything.
Sunshine,
On a June afternoon,
With CHET BAKER playing on the stereo,
Birds communicating and my thoughts, somehow, now free.
A burden from my shoulders that at times is cried out,
At times rejoiced.
And now single man,
Bachelor boy,
Unmarried,
Unmarred,
With the sun soothing my back.
*
Goodnight my love
Goodnight my love,
this is the Indian dreamcatching net,
that true sweet dreams are made of.
Goodnight my love,
this is the good gooey sleep stuff.
*
You Lay Upon The Bed Naked
I lay upon the bed,
you lay next to me naked.
I climbed out of bed and stood,
you lay upon the bed naked.
I looked at the painting I had given you,
you lay upon the bed naked.
I fumbled with my socks as I dressed,
you lay upon the bed naked.
I looked at myself in the mirror,
you lay upon the bed naked.
I turned from the room to go,
you lay upon the bed naked.
Sunlight streamed through lace,
you awoke, got up,
and hugged my shaking body.
*
Untitled
Passion run throughout,
Love in mind,
Spill forth, spill forth.
I see and hear you darling
As you come through the door.
Art is dead.
Art is useless.
Art is my life,
Therefore
We and they and I have no place,
Therefore…
It’s a swan song to what has begun.
It’s THE LIKELY LADS repeated at Xmas,
At throwing away unhappiness.
No gobbledegook,
I say yes to that,
And poetry dies.
*
Interrupted Sleep 2000*
Spare bedroom, Cottingham, Heavy snore from next bed.
Inflatable mattress, north London, gingham duvet.
Night sweats single beds, Longleat cabin, guff oven.
Edit suite floor, Bethnal green. 3 hrs only.
Top bunk, Cork hostel, away leg.
Single bed, West Dulwich, magnetic poetry.
Mattress on floor, Beverley, green pillow.
Living room sleeping bag, Crystal Palace, rats outside.
Wooden slat bed, spare room, Chelmsford, warm morning.
Top room, nondescript memory, Brixton, Gladiator.
Spare room, Golden triangle, Norwich, salmon stomach.
Front room sofa cushions, Gulpher road, air-raid morning.
Back room double, Brixton, chicken in oyster sauce.
Guest house single, Whitby, post breakfast paranoia.
Junk room floor, somewhere in London, breakfast card tricks.
Ikea pine bed, Deep Suffolk, foals outside.
Sofa cushions, West Dulwich, Abigail’s party.
Front room floor, Beverley, fire place in face.
Bottom bunk, Weston-Super-Mare, budgie alarm.
Leather sofa cushions, London floor, cool morning.
Back room double, Ipswich en suite, nephews alarm call.
White Futon, Kentish Town basement, cheap parking.
Twee single bed, Lake district, beer and smoke belly.
Sofa cushions, Brixton garden flat, dub spaced.
Spare room mattress, Cheadle, beer bottle labels.
Double duvet, Ferry freezer box, home.
*
What A Bore
Punched in the face by a hardcore movie, what a bore, what a bore.
Suckered into a dodgy-dance troupe, snore, snore, snore, snore.
Elasticised Y-fronts snapping back trance, what’s the score? What’s the score?
Young woman perfume scent, any chance? Am I a bore? Am I a bore?
Ball slap thigh head height Homo’ eroticism, dog-bone knaw, dog-bone knaw,
Towel flick girlfriend pissed-off hair jism, what a bore, what a bore.
*
Et cetera
Another week: seven letters; I love you, I love you, et cetera, et cetera.
Another month: I haven’t seen you; miss you, miss you, et cetera, et cetera.
Another term over: see you soon, see you soon; et cetera, et cetera.
Our holiday together: over.
Another week: seven letters; I love you, I love you; et cetera, et cetera.
*
Unsaid
T.V light flickers light from the summer-flats at night,
As we walk, tired, worn-through by karate,
And I say….
And I say….
The night before a dream disturbed me at 04:15,
It disturbed me all day, making me displaced and out of sorts
Because
You said…
You said…
Lightning flashed like God taking a snap shot of England,
Thunder rumbling like a Hammer House of Horror movie,
You watch it, pulling back the net curtain,
A dramatisation of Alan Turing’s life playing on T.V
And we say…
And we say…
Nothing of importance,
Nothing to write home about.
*
It Makes No Sense
It makes no sense
Any of this,
Baby,
Sugar
I love thee.
We wished for better times
Now it’s gone,
I’m getting bored
Already
Like a bad show on telly.
It makes no sense
Any of this,
Baby,
Honey,
I love thee,
Like a Shakespeare play,
The end to a bad day,
Like a good ol’ song,
The end of a bad one,
Like you and me,
Happiness with thee.
*
In What Manner
In what manner? In what way?
Away from the thing you said you’d never move away from?
In what manner? In what way?
Will you move through and out of the worn brickwork, suped-up, club where thingy met you?
In what manner? In what way?
Will you leave?
In the guise of friendship? Or in the cold seductive ‘just friends’ way?
In what manner?
In what way will you leave that thing snivelling about something past?
Something about the ways and manners of a friend he once had?
*
Turn To Me
You are by the fire, turn to me, turn to me,
your eyes reflect it, turn to me, turn to me.
I embrace you, hold me, hold me,
I wish this moment may never end, hold me, hold me.
love, just love me,
love, love me.
*
Alright Feeling
On the coast,
sea out,
shore bright,
brighter than bright,
sun more golden than gold,
eyes
not squinting,
light bright alright,
alright feeling, more than alright; overwhelming, fantastic, fabulous feeling,
I’ve found what I’m looking for not still haven’t found,
warm glowing feeling,
something immense feeling golden,
sea shore, beach,
I am there,
better than anything in the world, better than anything ever.
*
Easy. Simple. Carefree
Obliging,
Ridiculous,
it is,
to think
of
it
as easy, as simple, as carefree as that.
She was
beautiful
naked,
lying
naked
upon the grass,
caring,
loving,
as easy,
as simple,
just like that.
Loving,
that’s
the most important word,
it is,
never,
to think,
nah, never
never as easy,
never as simple,
never as carefree as that.
She
obliged,
took,
I took taking away the easiest simplistic just-like-thatness,
making it incomprehensible, unfeeling,
spitting it out,
then tasting the bitterness.
Obliging,
(but the truth)
it is
as easy
as something easy,
as simple
as simple,
as carefree
as a carefree thing,
to love
as everything above,
past,
present,
to come,
to think not
but to love
obliging,
carefree,
simple,
easy,
as that.
*
Big Joy
It’s gone,
Pain.
Welcome,
Daylight.
Freedom of heart.
Joy,
big joy.
*
I Like You
My love extends from without,
and I am within.
I extend to you & you never reach in,
my life passes between a sin and another sin.
But I like you,
I like you in the best embrace,
I feel.
It’s lost.
To this lost time the adventure over,
where do we go from here? My dear?
Brooklyn Bridge or somewhere else movie-like?
It begs the question, are we ended?
Like a film?
I like you as you are.
I like you as you are.
My love is this a song?
The Beatles would probably say not,
yet
in my head we are free from the dream that we could ever be like them.
I like you.
*
Find Me
Find me alone.
Find me finding me.
Find me finding you there alone.
Finding alone,
we alone together, share,
rid ourselves of loneliness.
Love
I
do
you,
loneliness
bye,
not for now,
just
forever,
yeah love ya
I do,
ever and ever
love ya.
*
Peace,
At last.
No more consternation that rips y’ guts out and brings a cloud of depression.
Peace,
The end.
A new beginning,
Where the future lies open and beautifully unknown, unknown.
No more war,
A retreat.
A withdrawal from the knowledge that one is hated and despised,
No more of that.
Loneliness before.
Loneliness now,
Solitude is a more acceptable word but there y’ go, y’ can’t have everything.
Sunshine,
On a June afternoon,
With CHET BAKER playing on the stereo,
Birds communicating and my thoughts, somehow, now free.
A burden from my shoulders that at times is cried out,
At times rejoiced.
And now single man,
Bachelor boy,
Unmarried,
Unmarred,
With the sun soothing my back.
*
Goodnight my love
Goodnight my love,
this is the Indian dreamcatching net,
that true sweet dreams are made of.
Goodnight my love,
this is the good gooey sleep stuff.
*
You Lay Upon The Bed Naked
I lay upon the bed,
you lay next to me naked.
I climbed out of bed and stood,
you lay upon the bed naked.
I looked at the painting I had given you,
you lay upon the bed naked.
I fumbled with my socks as I dressed,
you lay upon the bed naked.
I looked at myself in the mirror,
you lay upon the bed naked.
I turned from the room to go,
you lay upon the bed naked.
Sunlight streamed through lace,
you awoke, got up,
and hugged my shaking body.
*
Untitled
Passion run throughout,
Love in mind,
Spill forth, spill forth.
I see and hear you darling
As you come through the door.
Art is dead.
Art is useless.
Art is my life,
Therefore
We and they and I have no place,
Therefore…
It’s a swan song to what has begun.
It’s THE LIKELY LADS repeated at Xmas,
At throwing away unhappiness.
No gobbledegook,
I say yes to that,
And poetry dies.
*
Interrupted Sleep 2000*
Spare bedroom, Cottingham, Heavy snore from next bed.
Inflatable mattress, north London, gingham duvet.
Night sweats single beds, Longleat cabin, guff oven.
Edit suite floor, Bethnal green. 3 hrs only.
Top bunk, Cork hostel, away leg.
Single bed, West Dulwich, magnetic poetry.
Mattress on floor, Beverley, green pillow.
Living room sleeping bag, Crystal Palace, rats outside.
Wooden slat bed, spare room, Chelmsford, warm morning.
Top room, nondescript memory, Brixton, Gladiator.
Spare room, Golden triangle, Norwich, salmon stomach.
Front room sofa cushions, Gulpher road, air-raid morning.
Back room double, Brixton, chicken in oyster sauce.
Guest house single, Whitby, post breakfast paranoia.
Junk room floor, somewhere in London, breakfast card tricks.
Ikea pine bed, Deep Suffolk, foals outside.
Sofa cushions, West Dulwich, Abigail’s party.
Front room floor, Beverley, fire place in face.
Bottom bunk, Weston-Super-Mare, budgie alarm.
Leather sofa cushions, London floor, cool morning.
Back room double, Ipswich en suite, nephews alarm call.
White Futon, Kentish Town basement, cheap parking.
Twee single bed, Lake district, beer and smoke belly.
Sofa cushions, Brixton garden flat, dub spaced.
Spare room mattress, Cheadle, beer bottle labels.
Double duvet, Ferry freezer box, home.
*
What A Bore
Punched in the face by a hardcore movie, what a bore, what a bore.
Suckered into a dodgy-dance troupe, snore, snore, snore, snore.
Elasticised Y-fronts snapping back trance, what’s the score? What’s the score?
Young woman perfume scent, any chance? Am I a bore? Am I a bore?
Ball slap thigh head height Homo’ eroticism, dog-bone knaw, dog-bone knaw,
Towel flick girlfriend pissed-off hair jism, what a bore, what a bore.
*
Et cetera
Another week: seven letters; I love you, I love you, et cetera, et cetera.
Another month: I haven’t seen you; miss you, miss you, et cetera, et cetera.
Another term over: see you soon, see you soon; et cetera, et cetera.
Our holiday together: over.
Another week: seven letters; I love you, I love you; et cetera, et cetera.
*
Unsaid
T.V light flickers light from the summer-flats at night,
As we walk, tired, worn-through by karate,
And I say….
And I say….
The night before a dream disturbed me at 04:15,
It disturbed me all day, making me displaced and out of sorts
Because
You said…
You said…
Lightning flashed like God taking a snap shot of England,
Thunder rumbling like a Hammer House of Horror movie,
You watch it, pulling back the net curtain,
A dramatisation of Alan Turing’s life playing on T.V
And we say…
And we say…
Nothing of importance,
Nothing to write home about.
*
It Makes No Sense
It makes no sense
Any of this,
Baby,
Sugar
I love thee.
We wished for better times
Now it’s gone,
I’m getting bored
Already
Like a bad show on telly.
It makes no sense
Any of this,
Baby,
Honey,
I love thee,
Like a Shakespeare play,
The end to a bad day,
Like a good ol’ song,
The end of a bad one,
Like you and me,
Happiness with thee.
*
In What Manner
In what manner? In what way?
Away from the thing you said you’d never move away from?
In what manner? In what way?
Will you move through and out of the worn brickwork, suped-up, club where thingy met you?
In what manner? In what way?
Will you leave?
In the guise of friendship? Or in the cold seductive ‘just friends’ way?
In what manner?
In what way will you leave that thing snivelling about something past?
Something about the ways and manners of a friend he once had?
*
Turn To Me
You are by the fire, turn to me, turn to me,
your eyes reflect it, turn to me, turn to me.
I embrace you, hold me, hold me,
I wish this moment may never end, hold me, hold me.
love, just love me,
love, love me.
*
Alright Feeling
On the coast,
sea out,
shore bright,
brighter than bright,
sun more golden than gold,
eyes
not squinting,
light bright alright,
alright feeling, more than alright; overwhelming, fantastic, fabulous feeling,
I’ve found what I’m looking for not still haven’t found,
warm glowing feeling,
something immense feeling golden,
sea shore, beach,
I am there,
better than anything in the world, better than anything ever.
*
Easy. Simple. Carefree
Obliging,
Ridiculous,
it is,
to think
of
it
as easy, as simple, as carefree as that.
She was
beautiful
naked,
lying
naked
upon the grass,
caring,
loving,
as easy,
as simple,
just like that.
Loving,
that’s
the most important word,
it is,
never,
to think,
nah, never
never as easy,
never as simple,
never as carefree as that.
She
obliged,
took,
I took taking away the easiest simplistic just-like-thatness,
making it incomprehensible, unfeeling,
spitting it out,
then tasting the bitterness.
Obliging,
(but the truth)
it is
as easy
as something easy,
as simple
as simple,
as carefree
as a carefree thing,
to love
as everything above,
past,
present,
to come,
to think not
but to love
obliging,
carefree,
simple,
easy,
as that.
*
Big Joy
It’s gone,
Pain.
Welcome,
Daylight.
Freedom of heart.
Joy,
big joy.
*
I Like You
My love extends from without,
and I am within.
I extend to you & you never reach in,
my life passes between a sin and another sin.
But I like you,
I like you in the best embrace,
I feel.
It’s lost.
To this lost time the adventure over,
where do we go from here? My dear?
Brooklyn Bridge or somewhere else movie-like?
It begs the question, are we ended?
Like a film?
I like you as you are.
I like you as you are.
My love is this a song?
The Beatles would probably say not,
yet
in my head we are free from the dream that we could ever be like them.
I like you.
*
Find Me
Find me alone.
Find me finding me.
Find me finding you there alone.
Finding alone,
we alone together, share,
rid ourselves of loneliness.
Love
I
do
you,
loneliness
bye,
not for now,
just
forever,
yeah love ya
I do,
ever and ever
love ya.
*
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