We're all on a road to somewhere.
Can you measure
a bird of flight
by the weight
of a single feather ?
Can you look
into the face of a child
and not see
the deepest treasure ?
A time of purpose
beyond worldly surplus
the yet to be
hero of great valour
More precious
than gold or silver
that wide eyed innocence
The loving potential
of the truly essential
… Imaginessence
The Seamstress
in a state of distress
Her beautiful dress
delivered all disheveled
to the wrong person
at the wrong address
. . . and the Glam Rock
A child playing
with wildfire rebellion
The tailor who fits you up
swiftly twisting
sweet venom on the tongue
with chemical smoke rising
In the ghetto of the soul
a toxic river flowing
Body and spirit
within the echo of a scream
a tangled web
of a deceptive dream
For heaven’s sake
sleepwalkers awake
Is it ever too late
to make a break?
Who’s pulling the strings?
Can you hear the truth
when the Elvis of God sings?
Summer Venicea
a hothouse
frozen in time
then suspended
in a saltwater museum
The despised tourists
on the dock
by the boatload
disgorging
Then they queue
for religious relics
and pay 5 euros
just to see them
Once they would’ve all
been led for free
and fed into the Colosseum
Like foreigners
who walk around
saying … “Gidday!”
Barbarians well known
to pisciare in the bidet
Junk in school
Junk on the street
Junk is lurking
every place
that people meet
There’s nowhere safe
Can you stand the heat?
Best be cool
and fast on your feet
Junk that cheats
and is hard to beat
Junk piling up
in every place
Landfills full
of fetid waste
A natural habitat
for the human race?
Cockroaches and rats
are where junk’s at
Junk is ‘it’
in cyberspace
Junk all across
the internet
Breadcrumbing junk
Catfishing a flunk
junk that’s funk
gone kaput
and goes kerplunk
What the junk
The relic
from a Junk museum
drunk on junk
upon a rickety podium
giving it a tweet
talking the junk
Hellbent and spiked
like a Cosbied drink
The pulpit subterranean
molten junk is flowing
Junk out of sight
Junk micturating
from a great height
upon the shuffling throng
where junk makes right
Junk opinions
everybody’s got one
Junk in fashion
worn with style and grace
Junk just happens
Junk’s in your face
“Keep on walking!”
I saw a werewolf
with a hymn book in his hand
prowling around
sniffing the ground
from Jonestown to Gaza
He’s that well manicured gent
Some say he’s heaven sent
I’d like to meet his tailor
You can hear him howling
on your television set
Better not turn it on
Little old lady got bitten
late last night
Werewolves of oblivion, again
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‘Eye-Rachnophobia’