kind of like

the lake  

kind of like 

a classic turner

kind of like

a modern palmer

the lake

kind of
late

kind of like 

talking to her on the phone

kind of like

talking to her on the phone

kind of like

 a modern palmer

kind of almost

feeling calmer

after she called

kind of like

talking to ten people at once

kind of like

waiting for ten thousand months

kind of like that same ice lolly

kind of like

that worn sad looking brolly

kind of like

those big chalk blue skies

duck song

greener than green

weeping willow

autumnal cold

clouds in the water

ripples, that become shorter

than the clouds in the water

kind of like 

the hindi songs

in the chinese and polski

golden empire

halal of course

/no remorse/

kind of like

the z man telling her to

pull the plug

kind of like the r man 

telling her that he has dug
himself into a whole

kind of like the b man 

telling her to leave it out

kind of like the c man

telling her to not talk to witch doctors

kind of like

that time I forgot to lock the door
that time I forgot to settle the score

kind of like the k man

telling me no worries, 

some other time

(no, the gold buddha won't wait)

but never mind

kind of like

 the answer he never gave

kind of like

 the writing on the wall 

kind of like 

forgetting to stand tall

kind of like

the lake

that classic palmer

behind this steel armour

kind of like

waiting waiting waiting

kind of like

hating hating hating

what comes before and after

there's no time to barter

 the art of

being

kind of like

the smell of sticky toffee pudding

in the streets

like them organic pleats
all ironed out 

and the fluffy acorns on a pine

coloured a gruesome lime

kind of like that time

before the lake

the hail, that came after the sun

kind of like that time

I had almost begun

-to understand-

kind of like, kind of like, kind of like

otherworldly ernest and the cat man

i saw ernest
         he             /was/

wearing a top hat &

shaking potions 

in tooting market

                   he hardly fit

in, a long time 

                                  he said,                 he said

I barely recognised

you, in that disguise

(I wasn't wearing one)

but the music was there

latin american

no comparison

to the other african

doctor of healing
spieling
                               some kind of                     (non)-sense

like oh baby, baby its a wild world

I'll always remember you like a child, girl
                        the cat man, maybe he can....

.... explain it; the smash hit
the broken bit
-of a melody- 

for he made an appearance

in tooting town

this time, he was without crown

                               of course he was      bound

to be so happy

Mr Bean

mr bean on the train

I had to restrain 

from looking

brown cords

funky bunny tie

floppy hair

mannerisms that defy

social convention

I forgot to mention

those mash up brown clogs

them big feet too

wish I had the guts 

to talk to you

mr bean, i know 

i just know

you had something

worthwhile to say

 no matter

maybe we'll cross paths

some other day
-mr bean/ I get you-

tangible glasses

smoke screen

i must clean

ma glasses

but wait

I don't wear any

how come
I lost so many 

in the past,

yeah slowly

I gave up on glass

smoke screen

I must clean

I must wipe

away the condensation

I must

cease to make conversation

with the voices

in the world
(heard and unheard)

graduation no-show

nah I never went to my graduation

-a year passed-

and I sort of lacked the imagination

to be able to see it

actually see it

for I very nearly didn't 

graduate
barely made it through

-ever-late-

yeah, screwed over

maybe I deserved it

shrugged it off either way, 

using that same wry wit

yeah nah I didn't go to my graduation

I had yet to reach maturation

I'd yet to give up the separation

kind of just left, yeah I left, 

via the fire exit, age sixteen

I headed to the park and set my un-pristine

uniform on fire

man, sometimes I tire

of living in re-runs of the past

but I completed the task 

I burned it, yeah I burned it

and I shouted then

'free at last, free at last 

thank god almighty we're free at last'

but nah, the freedom it didn't last

yeah nah, the freedom didn't last

-graduation, no-show-

yeah, I didn't go
yeah, I still don't know
much about that

pine

going back to my pine

to spend early mornings 

with the Divine

going back to my pine

to read dusty scriptures

and to find

-true meaning-

this time
I'll make meaning last

this time,
I won't leave
until I complete my task

for there are many questions
I would still like to ask

I would like to bask 

under my pine

I'd like to reclaim what is mine

beneath the early sunrise sky
-for it's too hard there, to deny-
(the real)

in the midst of the coming sublime

I would like to connect to the Divine

-once more-

pink sky / a minaret so high

I was sitting in the mosque 

feeling rather lost

thinking about the pink sky 

against a single rose, it cost

a thousand million billion

drops of water

a thousand million billion

particles of pollen

I was feeling rather solemn

in the rose garden; wandering
against the iridescent sunset sky 

then a single fly

came tumbling 

down

and landed on my ripped shoe

 that single fly, it knew

and so he found 

his tiny fly feet and flew

uplifted, 

oh humble little fly

who can deny

the existence of the Originator

the Creator
the First, the Last

the One
the sum; of Reality

old man and his old train

Santiago de Compostela

the long road, Spain

it was there

an old man and his old train 

-derailed-
it was there
the stone and metal cradled
the dying,
the beat-up train carried
so many crying
human people

an old man and his old train

was he to blame

for the death
of those many human people

forgetting

for getting

tangled in the metal lines

spines, old train driver

tangled up in an old spider

web of lines, threads and spats

somehow getting off track 

for speeding old eyes 

to get it back

the end of age/ the end of life/ 

to end in this way 

more than tragic

the story of an old man and his old train

all those lives
that will never be the same again

and they ask still, was his age to blame

could he see the same 

as them young Spanish train-men,
would they be alive then

had one taken it,
and that old man sorrow

Van Gogh painted on his face
-solemn disgrace-

old man and his old man train

-what now, to say?-

just another stranger

we all have that one friend

who's now just another stranger

I have a hundred thousand of those

at the end of the day I couldn't blame the

distance, rather I had to blame my inconsistence

and a string of words that went unspoken

of course I was so broken 

but I shouldn't have cut myself off

wholly, when I know 

that you might have needed me

-I know you did-

so now I'm thinking 

before I go away again

I'll need to make amends

a hundred thousand amends

or maybe I can just send 

a whole stack of postcards

from the other side of the world

-on the other side of the world-

that's where we'll meet, you and I

I bought another card and signed it

I sort of hoped that you wouldn't find it

I sort of hoped 

you would change your mind a bit

-and stay-

deep

deeeeeep

i had some kind of epiphany

when I was in your car
i remembered everything you said to me

you were right man

i lure people in and shut them out

I'm too protective of myself

and so often I go without

I say a lot

while revealing very little

I pride myself on being non-committal
and now here I am
caught in the middle
-every middle-
and so I scribble
words upon words upon words
all the while imparting- /nothing/

silver beard /moonlight

I remember the night 

your silver beard 

glinted in the moonlight

the evergreen

against a beam 

of pink and grey 

and the sky opened
it's mouth to say

nothing

the open expanse 

the candle flickered

and father you spoke 

of the need to look within

to understand a world 

without

to be meditative 

to be contemplative 

whether or not you made it

-worthwhile-

who knows

midhurst

this time last year

I was in midhurst

dallying by a castle, 

without a fear

let me just spare

a moments thought

for this time last year

I thought I would get it

and live by the coast

I thought it would be most

exciting and wonderful

but it never happened

this time last year

I had just one care

to be a dharma bum

yet look how far I've come

yet, I'm still here

listening to babylon

still longing to be far gone

from here and now

everyone and everything

time to bow
-out-
nature/and God
you're all I need

dialling code

listen, truly 

I didn't recognise the dialling code

I thought it might be da feds and so

I didn't pick up, I didn't call back

listen this ain't fiction

-this be pure fact-

I weren't da computer hacker, 

I weren't da phone jacker 

I weren't da wikileaks tracker

but you know what I don't get is

that you see it for me

dis whole whacked out future, 

-ain't no one share our sense of humour-

yeah no sooner,
would we cross it all out

listen where was I

oh yeah, dis whole wacked out future

more whacked out den da present

da present, da present, da present
as obscure as the faint crescent
of the moon, the faraway moon
I think I came away too soon
to really see it

greta garbo in colour

little kids

talking about 

being film stars

she stays quiet

cos well
she's already there 

bright red lipstick 

a flower in her hair

but she never did care

about
-movie stardom-

so pardon
them
for their silly silly dreams

secret river steps

sitting on those 

secret steps again

in the gold evening light

low tide

I watch the seagulls ride

the blue river waves

I listen to the busker sing

that old song

by the flaming lips

do you realise

Do You Realize - we're floating in space -

Do You Realize - that happiness makes you cry

Do You Realize - that everyone you know someday will die

And instead of saying all of your goodbyes - let them know

You realize that life goes fast

It's hard to make the good things last

You realize the sun don'-go down

It's just an illusion caused by the world spinning round

so I sit and listen to the muffled lyrics

from afar I barely heard them

but then I looked them up and it was exactly

what I heard in my mind

the tingling feet

a million bugs

the words ringing in my ears

memories plaguing my mind

and St Pauls

looking at me, in sorrow

wondering why I'm always here

he watches, as I cross the silver bridge

and sometimes I swear
he talks to me;
a speck of sand

in the vast desert of time

we were here together 

you and you and you and you and I

you and sy

brazilian-t

ma favourite Brazilian

you're one in a million

I don't know where

you came from

but it was truly magnificent

-that beautiful day-

we ate chocolate cake

on Box Hill

the sheer thrill of it,

of being on the road again

and talking deeply madly truly

about things, deep, mad and true

I only wish Marta were here too

-epiphany after epiphany-

I wonder why strangers from the past

keep getting in touch with me

out of the blue

I never even knew

they still existed

-the joy of being disconnected-

so it was all new

everything you said

everything you told me

all those old people 

yes we found ourselves there

bird watching

botching words

A-line, and your green wagon

pink haired lady who asked if I was a dealer

cos she found, my bruk up mobile

I tried to lose it

so many times, so many times 

they find 

me (and I'm so glad)

gosh and that restaurant

that too kind waiter 

my head was throbbing

so many hours later

as I tried to take it all in

every crazy bloody thing 

in the world

bird watching by the lagoons

all too soon

and it brings it all back 

there, then, him

-and everything-

in between, life is so strange

in my own skin

skin that's not mine, I don't know

where I am (ever-)

live here

/wish I could get out of my head/

and live in the world instead

strange days/ always

strange days

forever unfazed

forever in a a daze

strange 

through and through

a pair of soaked shoes

aching bones

fog over the lake

ever alone

ever in another zone

hood over head

waiting for the unknown

to make its appearance

the violent geese

-perturbed-

they say

I'm slightly disturbed

but I say

la ilaha illallah

I just look  

to that one dying star

that one fisherman

that one pitched up tent

the sun that never spent

a single moment with him

or me, dawn

a strange time 

lost 

in the mi(d)st of the sublime

and when the other morning begins

the real one

it's like it never even existed

the secret one

and in the evenings

with the river

with the green

sharing skittles

and a whole stream

of unvoiced thoughts

I understand, then
/I understand/

pigeon man

pigeon man

a street cleaner from the 1940's

perched on the palm of his hand

grey bird; fly away

pigeon man

with wrinkles on his face

pigeon man
he looked so entirely displaced

in this time

by the steps of the cathedral

a third dimension

/polyhedral/

-not quite here-

Isle of Grain

the cooling castle

the isle of grain

dear, please refrain

from picture-taking

for here the MOD is making

-strange things happen-