just like a garage band

i think of The Clash
a garage band
who come from garageland
an insult turned to a fuck you
and there is something true
in it

am i an idiot of doggerel?
a bathroom bound dreamer?
looking for some fiscal redeemer?

i do not know the coin
i expected to be paid in
but the worth i reckoned
was never what beckoned
me onwards into further writing
perhaps i look better in better lighting



going off the boil
let to spoil
water and oil
play and toil
the beauty of a mosquito coil

all the motes caught in light
the dust we become burning bright
it will settle during the night
its presence can seem slight
we test it; the glove no longer white

a sunday fuck you

the people with clipboards
and an ounce of power
administrate your difficulties
with a smile
embarrassed silence
is a special violence
thankfully no one was really around

i slunk off
with an OK in my mouth
and a fuck you right behind it
silently leaking out

saturday slow

a limited input/output day
with little to say
bills to pay
and chores to do

i speak to my brother
for the first time in a couple of years
and he’s hard to hear
because he has an ancient phone
and no interest in owning anything newer
i ask if he will ever get on the internet
he’s not interested in that shit

i get knocked out by the cat
who magicks me into a bed
and i lay down my head
watching jimmy hoffa end up dead
watching morrison and the doors
schoolkid angus and bagpiped bonn

tidying up
and pitching stuff
things start to clear up

on the nature trail

start the new year as you mean to go on
stood amidst beauty with love at your side
two people step into and test the water
it is fresh water
there is salt water elsewhere

we walk the trail
a small orange butterfly in front of us
coloured ribbons on the trees
a map in hand we still lose the way

we find our way
to the waterfalls
which some talked down to us
but which were beautiful

cool clear water
the burnt trees of controlled burn
furry roots that snake the path
we follow a small orange butterfly