Lord...

You’re a shiny
Italian Lambretta
Carrying me invisibly
through the day’s traffic.

You’re a chunk
of fresh bitten apple;
Refreshing the teeth
of my soul.

You’re a rescuing
helicopter coastguard;
Winching my spirit
Out of the turbulent Benchill sea.

My England

What does the world know
Of my England?
British Airways intro movies
Set to classical fanfares.
Charles and bloody Di.
Maggie bleeding Thatcher.

00000000oooooooh

Look at the raw
Naked north.
My country.
Cut yourself on our
rough edges,
Then we’ll bathe you
In our spirit.

Going home.

Bold streaking sun
sneaking up on shadows
...silent crackle
.feedback.
itchy & stractchy
.:.fluffy shudder
.air just out of grasp
just out of gasp.
Temporary loudness
now back to the hum

I fear...

I fear the eventless day,
Its craning arms
outsretched.
Tormenting tomorrows.

I need the relentless moment,
Its sucking throat
moist.
Salivating sanity.

I yearn irresponsible calm,
Its cocky nonchelance
reclining.
Disowning duty.