busy witches admire ruin

of scuppered spires of men

society has it's bleed to make

the page is poured

oh before dusk is absolute

edges starred

become the hive of too

many words

succeed the hole

inched with rain

become again

a richness of

deceptive wings

a poetry


internal noises of

roots and rooted thumbs

confetti caught ideas

then written upon

constant, constant traveller

pursues beams, chasing none

the drone

goes on

viewing the woken

grey lidded over,

stooped cherry trees

maternal with a million buds

some are phantomly and yet

borne but definitely thought

of in the deep bark

morose buildings

where the sick and antiques


his weird balcony

of sorts, a curtain less eye

surveys the monotone ants

the car park on which

the bones i used to work on

multiplies it’s full spaces

the presence of rain

about to whisper

like a held back funeral tear

snuffles near but never

quite moistens, cars are

like hearses ferrying

non committal and worry,

listen to mid morning

all termite endeavour

shadow copy

there is a tear built place

where gazes rip,

another silhouette to forget

the sky with

antique poets in broken

reorganised petals, take

their tiny worded arms,

copier of old written muscle

make their silences

your own

plagiarised planet, no idea

is fresh electrons,

that the pen exists for

fingers to ignite thru'

can you borrow rain?

can you copy it’s

wet slackness into prose?

make the idea of someone

else’s bones your own


seldom jabbers are

well meaning,

scupper talented residues,

them in parasitic coats

aims of dull adders

spleen squeezed begrudging,

fold the artist, creased bones

into defunct bunkers

a strangler from the

least tenderest page

add pebbles to

shoulders, exert

forceful mountains, a

force of deep rooks

undo wonder with a

patrolling hammer, a

clothed shark roams

the typewriter's blood

reduce those stood colours

to insipid puce or beige

corporate straight jackets,

bring on the zombies with stapled mouths

consumer obey those

assassin lords, a

shrieked hand, adore

the yawn of the predator's grin

ink black houses

reside them, turned

on hatred pivots

radish reddish bloated rage

loaded electrons

with tearing  troll criticism,

the page shall never

befriend poet-less criminals


where will you find your stance today?

neither root empire or

sunbeam puppeteer

there’s not enough anchor

to keep the sky in pause,

no straight jacket to

give the mind ruin

this breeze won’t be caught

the prism’s gleam can’t be held,

meniscus cleverness

no recluse in a shell

taken by the tide’s communication

no footstep can set it’s stone,

there’s a swarm about catching applause

i’m travelling speedier atoms alone

find me in the nourished quiet

where seldom gazes incline,

stillness has no fence to collect me

when all is being buried

drifting my own nerve’s intention,

there’s not noose enough

to tether the ease escaping

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