I should not care of words I heard

I should not care of words I heard
Spoken in woolly ears of feted friends
Beneath a gloomy sky of smoke and ale,
Upon a bench of drink and bums
Sodden in a way of misery
Far from the churly ears of work
Under a barley star of freedom

I should not stand for triteness
Nor shy away from pompousness,
But glory in the revel of the evening
As gory heads are lolling
Though the trauma of the dawn.

To be easy in the way of words
Spoken in silent love of things
Both dear and not dear
And peaceable and passionate
Till it echoes from the door,
In a reeling week of selflessness.

Ode to an end to Love

She had big boobs, it’s true,
I loved them,
And that’s why I rue
The day she left,
With her marvellous chest
To live with some guy
From Gloucester.

Work

They say time heals all: but tonight
The ticking clock hails nothing new,
But endless seconds echoed away 'till five o'clock;
The first timid trace of dawns' dim light.

The air is thick. It doesn't move, but hangs,
just as it does in the light. Theres no difference then
between night and day, no cut off point,
no spiritual sensation of a big bang

To mark something changed. Tomorrow,
The working day will be the same, the coffee,
Idle chatter with the clerk at her desk:
Days marked by an ever deepening sorrow.

Coolio

Oh Lord, save me from everything iniquitous,

Oh Lord, save me from myself

Save me from Tuesday night’s and sat on the edge of the bed

Staring with existential dread,

Save me from holiday’s
Save me from nothing to do
Save me from TV, coffee, tea & death
Save me from me

Save me from pencil death staring at the whiteboard of eternity
As pencil necked men pencil in pointlessness on the eyelid’s of
Monday morning, face fucked from here to Friday on the back
Of productivity & pro-activity & performance, Oh Lord! Save
Them for they do not know, oh Lord! Save them for they do not see
The words that haunt them are the words that
Blind them, the words that blind them
Are the words of work that blinds and
Haunts them, on Tuesday’s of Huddles at three PM
When the soul is stretched thin over coals
Of scores racked up & spat out & sucked up
Into the vacuum of the Trial of the Castle of
Postmen going postal, of old age and pension
Slips, collected and dejected marching out of
Post offices, unwanted & unloved and hated above &
Below and holed
just there.

Dreams

It's not easy, this business of being attached.
You live your own life, then another to,
from their perspective, the things they do,
feigning care for every little scratch.

To be 'in love' is a heavy heavy price,
your dreams are fucked, they aren't in-line
with the house, the kids, the car. Instead,
you get by on an hour a day

Looking out the window
At a distance of fifteen years.

Leave Taking

I took the train from York,
'12:30 one way please' - the ticket seller nods
and busy's herself with machines.
'Sign here' she pushes through a half biro

Serrated edges broken ridges:
I sign my name and get the train.
We pull out slowly - an inaudible
message is read by the guard

'Leeds at 13:00 next stop Leeds'
as the train gets up speed through the City.
It's not pleasant, travel. People
sit in silent misery

avoiding eyes, too frightened to laugh.
Miles pour by - trees sat by stone walls
Isolated in the bleak pennine hills
squatting against the ferocious wet wind.

Funny how it is, here. Kids are balling
and mums are diffidently patting their cheeks,
youths are sniggering at some empty jibe
and the ticket inspector gets though his job.

All of them huddled trees in the storm.

Light Fades

All light fades,
at the end of what was meant to be an eternal day.
You turned, and said 'will this always be true?
This love for me and you?'
I wished it was - us before the great presence,
young, clean limbed and pure,
our meeting the cause of resonance
in hearts less sure and minds less pure,
before this going moment.

'Whats right for us is right for all!'
You exclaimed from the moss strewn rock,
'love is new and love is old,
love is ours at bec and call!'

And the wind howled around us.

The rock doesn't judge,
but the rock says nothing at all,
the rock cares not
nor the wind that howled around.

Stood here now I hear nothing.
The moss has grown, and the rock, some cracks
have etched along it's sides.
The granite doesn't love
but the granite doesn't die,
All light fades.

A Bacon Sandwich Song

Oh Bacon Sandwich you're devine
you make me hungry all the time,
with ketchup you're delightful
and thick bread slices,such a mouthful

Oh bacon sandwich won't you be mine,
I want to eat you all the time,
maybe with an egg or two who knows?
I'd rather have you than a date
If it wasn't wrong I'd masturbate!