Uplifted Concrete

approaching that reality
with comfort and clarity
revealed the mystery deepens
uplifting this concretised night living dream
in the truth is the knowing
beyond interpretive imagination overflowing
like the whispered secrets shared from seashells
receive through waves of silence
knowledge experienced and not mere belief..

August Autumn

resting on the leaves the leaves
the leaves around the leaves to fall
playfully hang
in meditation the leaves upside-down upward peer
rustling wonder 
and in rushes a prayer still transmitting..

wispy silhouettes of gently whirling air
her coffee vapour rises to the slowly lowering branches
as she sits with a tome
leaves turn leaves
to paraglide and to rise..

the coffee table is white
in the way melting snow is
the shade of a wordless wish yet to be lost..

she sits by a formica coffee table
she sips the coffee like it is
the nectar in everything and on her lips
the infinite sea of the sipping drops..

she is reading a physical book
like they really did back in the twentieth
she is reading a physical book
and she is real
and the leaves that fall 
to ponder and rustle
to ask
for a duet
for the leaves-in-waiting to breathe..

and an ocean wave of auburn
laps down her left shoulder blade
certain strands glint like threads
threads of the deepest red wine counterpoint
a lime quarry of surface-mined philistine 
an untethered pavement dirigible of used inflated tyres passes by
hunting on tinder for a horny recycling bin
please note in the twenty-first 
this counts as a realised manifestation of empowerment..

i have a book with me
should i ask her to kiss
she would bless the words
though the barista might call the police..

does this sound too much like the intoned narration
of a reflective car window-man in a hopelessly romantic european film
the battered citroen itself a disillusioned marxist..

a film made before the tail end of yesteryear
full of other-worldly colour symbology
okay i will stop here
the twenty-first century has no need for such dreamy dreary nonsense
smoke blown please walk with me..

The Indignantee

only the other day
yours truly again had to listen
listen to the tired old argumentation
about why tony blair should be stripped
stripped of his well-deserved knighthood
can you believe it..

the indignantee was puce of skin and word
livid and burning pomegranate
grim with righteous anger
a self-combusting human pamphlet
how is it that tony blair has been made a sir
i signed a petition
a petition..
and yet he is still enjoying his knighthood
what am i missing..

most of the time i am a quiet and patient man
but on this rare occasion i had to be the contrarian
and with a slightly raised voice i replied
my good man
know this
you will never amount to be even a thirty-third
a thirty-third of the man that tony blair is..

tony blair served the crown in ways that you can only dream of
have you..
selflessly gifted tax-payer checks to the military industrial complex
or declared war on a noun to usher in our beloved surveillance state
or help eliminate another half-a-million iraqi men and  women and children
to quote madeleine albright before him
..a price worth paying..
it would not hurt to show some gratitude
gratitude for such sacrifices that he helped make
for the crown
now go away and eat some yellowcake..

Should The Magistrate Go Straight To A Potato

surprising even herself she coyely confessed 
this is the first time i have ever seen someone do that with a potato
colour me impressed
and i cannot believe i am about to admit 
i want to try it out for myself
i desire to do it now right now 
right now
i feel a pressing urge
but i have to go to the supermarket first
for needs must..

then she stopped dead in her tracks and enquired
…but what kind of potato can do that
i mean is there a difference between a king edward and..
what about organic
it sounds silly but should i first talk to it
or rub it gently like a genie a lamp
i am a married woman so i will not stroke it
i just cannot bring myself to do something like that
not yet..

she giggled
of course i am only joking
i jest
i am not really married..

i just cannot bring myself to stroke a potato
maybe one day yes
but not just yet
i need to upgrade my potato-rubbing skill-set first
take it slowly and deliberatively step by step
yes i feel a bit of a lemon
at school i never took potato-rubbing classes for lemons..
she giggled again..

ah lemons..
and what about lemons
should i train with lemons first
or because lemons are different to potatoes
somewhat like apples are to oranges
lemons are not potatoes i think i mean..

or is it more like comparing daffodils with puffins
or is comparing lemons to potatoes
with apples to oranges
with daffodils to puffins
as silly as comparing or even contrasting the yeti
to a merengue to the loch ness monster
i hope that makes sense..
she said apologetically..

but what if the loch ness monster is a baby boomer
a baby boomer loch nes monster
who still owns a hostess trolley and a working fondue set
or am i now being very silly
this is so unlike me
honestly this is so unbelievably unlike me
i am still a magistrate
i need to remind myself that i am still a magistrate
in a medium-size town with ungodly dark edges..

and correct me if i am wrong
but a fondue set cannot make a merengue
or can it
should it
i really should know this..
she admonished herself..

she rubbed her own chin thoughtfully then pressed on
in other words
would even rubbing a lemon help me with a potato
and although i have never stroked a daffodil or a puffin
just supposing i had
just supposing i had stroked a daffodil or a puffin
or even only lightly rubbed one discreetly at arms-length
could i then go straight to a potato
or would the lemon thing still be best to start off with..

so to recap from rubbing to stroking
should i rub a daffodil then a puffin then a lemon then a potato
or should i go straight to the potato without touching a lemon
i underline
rubbing not stroking
please understand
i have my limits..

also i must ask
what kind of lemons are most like potatoes
and as importantly
what kind of lemons are least like potatoes
for example
i have eaten lemon-flavoured potatoes
but yet to have even once had a potato-flavoured lemon
do potato-flavoured lemons even exist in our world
she gazed to the heavens for a sensible answer
well maybe in russia..

she pondered
my goodness this has become so involved and so confusing
if you had told me only this morning
that i would be talking earnestly with you
about potatoes puffins lemons and daffodils and loch ness monsters
yetis fondue sets hostess trolleys baby boomers and meringues
i probably would never have believed you..

but perhaps..
but perhaps as you seem like such a decent gentleman
i probably would have
nothing is simple is it
but there it is
life is always so full of surprises
and i a middle age woman
who in one particularly memorable and carefree teenage year
enjoyed the stone roses storm their delightful signature set at wigan pier..

The Stream, Anciently

the days of the poison pen letter
ink
accusations
ad hominum cross examination
crossings out
smudges
torn photographs attached neatly with a red paperclip
angry asterisked notes in the margin
i will never forgive you for the vodka/bacardi incident never..
one-paragraph-a-page terseness
that florid concision
the seal of a cigarette burn on the page
the mosquitos of ash and a proverb
no need to reply
the return address on the envelope
you can still wish me a happy birthday
is that not the least you can do
exclamation mark question mark..

the days of the love letter
ink
musings
crossings out
smudges
pencilled illustrations
perfume-scented 
asterisked notes in the margin
explanation
the strange apology and the yearning
no need to reply
no need to say anything
just wanted you to know how i still feel
though i know you know
so here i am again just counting down the days
before i have you all to myself again
suggestions for suggestions..

the days of unfolding..

Yoga Of Ostrich

from the vantage point of the ostrich
saturated
collaged
curated
head in the ground searching for the origin point
of the rainbow shine
the mind bubbling bent from light..

from the vantage point of the ostrich
shepherded
parcelled
distributed
undulated on the unrolling 
ambience subterranean wave machine engineers provide..

here the battalions of ostriches are
slugged by crabs alluring siren songs
to search under the sand starless
and lying here their astrologers and astonomers are..

here the ostriches stand
protruding asses extrude slanty aerials
stay informed and trust the plan
here clawing laser pens the ostriches stand..

from the vantage point of the ostrich
triggered
enraged
reconfigured
synchronise-dancing to the beats of the echo chamber
a seeded solid state unit awake reflexive
uplifted projecting toxic froth insensible..

the ostrich occasionally raises its head
searching for sunglasses
then gazes wide-eyed at the sun-gazers
bemused and more than a little disgusted..

To Hear The Thud Of The Fallen Feather

the conscience pink-slip
to swan and sip the rainbows drop-shipped
the silvery transition drip-drip-drip so beguiling
the knock-knock apprehends the permeating silence
the vista from near the top of the tower shade
the non-player characters attenuate
the falling feathers echo
the thud of a fallen feather..

compartmentalised merit-ants
bend as they snap storm-tossed
watchtowers beam their atoms shrunken blesses
as the cryptocracy crystal ball-visualises
the strongest heavy-hitting lid closes ever-tighter
comfortably compressing the compressed
as all the coincidences neatly lined up in a row
are always best-dressed..

another knock-knock stills the uneven air
where a few of the chosen ones waver
all the treats all the baubles
their beautiful white noise not quite..
not quite vanquishing the within stirring within..
that purer voice dilates the murmuring
knock-knock..the last chance presents the offer
to those ones not yet so gone..

Their Banquet You

as they make their today splendid by dangling you worms for tomorrow
promises delayed eternally only fulfil such architects of sorrow
as they make their tomorrow brighter by redefining emptiness today
a fortune equips the designer vacuum and scripts the sating soliloquy..

grow a wish-list of lacquered thought-trinkets
replace and replace until extinguished
be a data node on their cashless farm
terminate heretics hiding in the reeds of the panopticon
gift yourself the given gilded status uniform
prepare their banquet you the fatted lucky charm..

cash cow vital statistics
smear your essence with colour-schemed spit
be as individual at a tattooed winking actor
be their sunbeam pounding the hamster wheel
be their wind blowing their sails
be their green beached whale..

virtue signal your vestige
bottled awareness is the message
drill for nectar in the abyss-breeder
zombie defiance of the festooned creature
measure yourself by their demographic vectors
babble the same chrome-koan as your corporate mentors..

For The Sceptical Tinkerbells

the object moved so very slowly
so unearthly it seemed as it floated up the street
the dawn chorus fell so silent
and sealed the stillness so completely
and so uniquely for even the supermarket owl stared transfixed
and i could only catch my breath through a sieve
and to challenge myself witnessing such phenomenon
three times i pinched myself to reconfirm the experience was real
for moving closer the craft seemed to resolve into a 3d-oblong
and vibrating and sounding like a distant vacuum cleaner
it swayed and lilted ever so gently
i surmised perhaps it was experiencing difficulty
phasing in and out of our dimensionality..
..
glinting off the baffled dawn light
so luminous its sides shone like rippling liquid glass
and across one side in green and black and white
were depicted strangely joyful pictographical symbols
pressed on the synthetic surfaces of its power packs
and as it began to move ever closer still
there..
there was the distinct outline of a type of being
the being peered out piloting
the being wore a visor half-covering its face
the being pressed something on a console
and an orb light projected out illuminating the surrounding space
and the vehicle slowly faded away..

before you ask
no i dare not reveal to anyone my close encounter
though elderly folk still whisper of ancient visitation myths
but at least now i know this for sure
milk floats and milk float-fairy folk still exist..

Stirred

all the clouds widened on the river stretched
the electric eel thames slept
swans for pillows
rejected dropped cigarettes..

beneath the liminal space flew the birds
escalating on snowy blue stairs of sky
the rollerbladed skater arced a scarlet umbrella
to wand the benday dot skyline..

glassy rivulets off the mossy bank sprang
somersaults of snipped limpid string
such lush composition whet sore coffee break-eyes
lavishing its panacea for the steely dullness between..

between those lines slipped light
glowed around the closed timeline curve
as a zebra crossed people for pelicans
wispy rain marbled my coffee..

the high-viz jacket of the creamy turmeric sun
wished a cloak over the slate-bright satin air
seconds stretched out like mercury drops
the night of the workday an evening away..