untitled #131113b

Inside a plankton cloud,
There are rules to be seen.
Alongside the bombed angels,
Who hide up and in the mist and the fog,
The quality control forgoes
Marble glasses, bend, shift,
A mouse hole, kingdom,
Full of size and strength and white,
Moths flutter around,
Full of air and surprise.

Glass eyed vision, fills the 
Cloud with Jesuit conundrums,
That crinkles and keeps on running. 
In the bottom of his tummy,
There is a complete tank,
Where green and red collide,
In vase shelf bedrooms, in mazes.

untitled #131013

Blame yourself silly,
Leave it to the professionals.
Believe in your kin,
Believe in time,
Don't defend the instinct that creeps back from your crime.
You'll be back to front all day,
Pray for the soul that repents against the unbelievable,
Truth that is part of your every waking moment.

Blame against blame,
Brings negative positive,
Two souls bagging against a brick building,
A stick in the mud,
Criteria making it easy,
To be sleazy,
Anyway bang and bang again,
Juggle with ecstasy
Take over your attention,
There'll be a lot of changes
For the boys and girls.

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Seeming do, to lovers all entwining.
I'll graft this wire plant into a metal trellis.
Carefully weaving and climbing away,
Graft away all sense of kindness,
In this fortune bereft wood,
Where pronged hands tender
And get spiked where they cannot touch.
Bodies strangle and breach
Back into loving eyes.
Breathing, factious, questioning eyes,
Sanctimonious features
Belie a texture unknown,
High necked jumpers, bought at jumble sale,
Kick away solemnity
And all boasting, with dandelion affection.
Lovers all entwining, defining
Emblematic, keep files,
And collect up the world in one garden. 

Untitled #111013

untitled #111013

In the old thatched cottage,
In capable hands do teach.
Solemn tales are told in,
Mice ridden holes and crevices.
Seamstresses rid the earth of cotton for fathom tired men,
Who plot and decide upon their wicked games.

They play upon the mind,
Incapable they laugh and scorn,
In their cotton garbs,
The blood process of their tidings deceives the goodness
At the base level,
And in the old parched, thatched cottage,
Things just get
Swept up, even the crumbs from beneath the table.
And just empty ruins, empty
Vessels of ruinous parchment.

The base metals of the seamed garbs,
Are lent upon by the wars of this world,
Gobbled up consignments, hiding swords and swearing.
Wooden buildings can't stand up against those stable steels,
And the hooded and cloaked young ones
Stand proud.  

The Boxer

The Boxer

Have a listen to my version of this incredible song.

Alive

Alive

Check this song out please!

Untitled

This could be
The greatest day.
Meeting friends, soon to be
Neighbour
Return the gesture
Return to the crow
Ending.