Time Slip

Wandering London bound
the train jutters lullaby
On the decent of land and
rise of year.
Two-thousand and what now? Sixteen?
The years wrong counted “18”
Flashes neon bright in
mind but distant.
Two years gone by
In an eyeblink. Riding
Down the way hence
Two-thousand and fifteen, that
Was then-now, the same
Space, alt time anchor
On this spinning bobbin
Cotton milky way.
Same people, different faces,
The one in the glass is
Now thinner, unshaven.
The one I face still
Smiles, hair raven.
Humble host of hosts friendly
Welcome, wired on pepsi,
“Caffeine please thank you?”
“No more old mate”, smoking
Hundreds of Romanian Dunhill
Blacks (He gets them for £4
You know!)
Pickle our insides parched
On nothing but pepsi,
Cigarettes and poundland
Pizzas, all fingers and eyes
Glued to glowing screens
And keyboards, drinking in
The great monster din, the
Abattoir blues for the
Hook is already in.


In a Tent

Dribble von dribble son
Eclectic and wild
Worry not sonney
It’s time for your trial

Gaggle of writhing beasts
Turbo for shit
Nothing is ever not built
From no bits

Dammit chew phlegm it man
Gripping the sides
Focused and melting
This moment of life

Four times by one
Times by three, times by all
Beware within numbers as
Nothing is all

Cold diddle playdough land
Floating on rest
Forget your appearance
It’s your will that is best

What A Night I

I’m stumbling around
in two-thousand and eight
Bradford Uni’s amphitheatre
Me and my old m8

We’re pissed and tipsy-wibbly
necking Buckfast like the monks
Being noisy wretched hooligans
a pair of scary drunks

The fun brigade killers
the campus night police
sneak up on me and Michael
A bottle smashes, and we freeze

“Oi! You pair of screbulons
you boorish piss head shits
Did you just throw that bottle?
If so confess to it!”

I knew I had not done it
Yet there were shards upon the floor
pissed I became the advocate
a drunken man of law

How dare you sir imply.
That we have vandalised this space
we’re simply really, really fucked
just look at my mates face

So captain bleeding kill joy
Looked upon young mike
and fucking hell that grin Mike had
drunk and wider than a pike’s

“I’m sure he bloody threw it,
It’s written on his face
and now there’s glass and buck fast juice
The library entrace a disgrace!”

So on my fucking honour
I swore to fucking Christ
“My friend here Mike would never
ever be a vandalistic blight!”

The officer was very moved
(Away by my foul breath)
Too befuddled and lacking proof
He bid us calm and slowly left

We almost stumbled over
From the booze and with relief
We pulled out another bottle
of that Bucky red and sweet

“How unfortunate that bottle,
was knocked over by the wind,
and that old bugger, ‘Jumped up grump’
went and blamed it on my friend”

SMAshed it right THE FUCK
on the FRONT of the LIBRARY

He heard
We ran

What a night.

Trundle Stilts Kin

Trundle what so forth
Insipid it breathes
Not one of insight
yet slowly it seems

Broken! no, wibbly!
no pointless!… yet good
Propped upon bone legs
this life partly sucks

Partly ecstatic
wholly too far
Soak nothing sorrows
with barley @ bar.

See all your friendly
(part family / part mates)
Twenty-late wanderer
Great sink hole his fate.

The Seidr of Stories

I just heard a saga
some valour filled lore
The gods hear the drama
My heart hits the floor

Visions and heroes
betrayal and fate
to partake in old stories
it’s never too late

Strong towering warriors
arms wide like their hearts
The women still stronger
such beauty on fire

Tales rolling dreamscapes
Enact in my mind
The real world long lost me
So i left it behind

The mountains of ice
and the lakes of rock fire
the Althing gathers
and they judge sans the ire

brothers and sisters
complex ties of kin
to call on your banner men
the drum rattles din

sly wretched whisper worms
poisoning ears
but a honour filled death
the brave man never fears

come on and join me
take this hand and alight
let’s sit round the fire
and tell sagas tonight