Bragger Greys

Instore café content, paces past a chemist and a black man, taste it
Bearded men, smooth men, and golden ruby wives
Vigour-lacking lists turning over old stories, new times on black and white paper, detail sliding tackles
He-‘politician’, this day and age had his lady helper, a mug to mouth coaxer, slow motion intake hailer
Not about beyond, that ‘should be’, leaving, knowing near-term middle clock left

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Billionaires

I hooked onto the face of a psychopath executing flagellation
ate his lobster raw
and its eyes for his eyes
his damp face from my white meat spit
elastic banded claws dropped on embroidered brogues
in Monaco gamblers we trust
rise over here and I’ll hammer you

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Free Pass

Renegade living, after the Vietnamese boat-boy was beaten, after motorcyclist came looking, after steel toe-capped boots and a hammer threat, after a nearly ended Dad by caged bird
Forty miles from the sea he shouted about a broken car window handle, never onto manipulations or abortions
Too tight squeezes later, tax man and his vice girl with the lost dog lie
By nervous accident, same place, from a black door house, left and up the grass banking to vulgar vermin ghosts
Torquay, before I landed, drunk on Guinness, spoke with a fox hunter, Devon flatter than train’s tables
Most was etymology of the Victorian window sash – ‘thinning yellowing painted rope’, hanging thread rent
My night ceiling stayed put, about nine feet from the ground, three feet less from my flat back, there I go Young, people watching, looking at the dusts to dusts from orange seats
Once I forced out a trial on a raised pitch with a smell of dying meat
Location rapids, cold love journeyman, taxed by distant flesh of my flesh
My bike gave the terraced house loud life before months of blank Sundays
I fought the mind of a Black African girl, her chicken feet odour in my lungs, giving me chicken flavoured asthma
And I kicked all that to the end, kicked all that to the ends
Employment starting pistol whip and the Press uncovered false biography of a serial killer supermarket cleaner, he was a whiskey stealer, I knew that, he told me that
Before I pawned the jewellery, took time to see the camouflaged health centre populated with angry doctors who lost time drinking in a hole in the ground
Here now and disappearing from no one, into chemists for the weak, for four hourly pains, counting up to lost.

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The Fall of Man

Eleven antemeridian house breaker, home wrecker
Now she’s rubble left, sustaining all her more, all her less
Memorial tumbler with a three-quarter up-ring on a bedside table
She’d got to the point, of a hanging frame off bone arrangement, but can still take real, the outside, real weather, God placed it on her neck
Outside to a whitening wilting life, with a cheap bus ticket, would-be liar to other people
Undercover station washroom where a travel mirror saw plastic flowers comb her hair, and her new self-imposed dead ears filled with wonderful wax, smiling into position
Three steps up to hours flash and stilling minutes, topographical chanting
Stiff card cases with pressure clicking clasps, then a car ride with a feigning act of a man
Bed, milk with a knife and fork, a plate with a coloured perimeter, getting to know her sister corrupted
Filling up with won’t last

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Spoorwegen

Talking Asperger in Holland’s gutter
women for men
man-hiding in scab wombs
smell the dad perfume
childlessness disease
restless rights and south paws breaking Pentagon’s cyber world
devise numerical love

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90% polyester

Players
Romeos
still twentieth century visits
Camp Majesty
bending tungsten
satin sash title fighter hooks
smoking green grass burners
uniting tight-fitting lap-sitting women
industrial tribunal metal pin tattoo brainwashed art
money dragging gifted arm
Planet

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Smell Filthy

Saw Sondheim’s ‘Fruit Juice of the Soul’
actor’s encore dip, tips, left and right and out to women like this, to men like that, the crimes of The Broadway Ripper
odd height couples in their Manhattan towers, I stored myself for a while, then star backed, from walking a three-week cold saunter
‘Where did he walk from?’
That was him, from LA, now fed-up in Western rent, getting sun’s burn, red and white fingers on newspapers, safety deposit dreams and driver’s value on eight track roads
falling crosses, non-Huguenot police chiefs, eyeing in underground time
smell filthy New York gangland death stare

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Early Double Helix

Labour build
July 1966 rehousing project
no rats in the south west miles
she cleaned for a saviour
inspector’s anxieties, anticipations
Plant moved around the new wood smell
a photograph, four humans and one animal, not inclusive, we breathed the same air
ignorance killed a hibernating tortoise
typhoon came and went
schools hired zealots to destroy
News jotters recorded floods, strikes, power cuts, candles, the invisible bike
walked alone, then Pollock weekends with dog gangs
no fire for the Green Goddess, shouting News boys at midnight
cold chapel, good trousers, no communion, sweets, middens, long back-green grass, canary yellow British Railway van
Arthur Montfort dragged us through tedium, food under polystyrene tiles, beside woodgrain wallpaper doors
thought he had Black Death, refused the elevator, we carried paint pots before Travolta stole the style
his comic effect, Fr. Daley killer grab, unconcerned soul and shoplifter
Subbuteo
graffiti cells led to melting ice-cream
Gone

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Busker

Takeaway charity box thief
trying learning, frets
trying guitar, plectrum count
tone deaf viral food
hits, soul slips

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Locked-out

God reclaimed the land
all across our great thing, gambling tables dissolved craven evangelists dice
Evolution kicking up new dance steps, now a barefoot and worried man,
took on blisters, nervous blood and longing
tackled gravity, like a bat in the trees, I hang up from other firing neurons
a new man bespoke, debunked alpha with progeny wild, and I tell you, they’re eating ants, drinking larva bathers kerosene water
I got an Apache feeling, tip-toed on old rocks, telescoped distance, made fear measure, took time lots from a double-sided pamphlet on hands up to the Sun
my black barrel of a spear evaporates mammal love, what’s now worth more than three hours to skin and butcher
take the bone out again Lord

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