I know you love me but if you follow me I'll love you too!

Tuesday, 7 February 2017


We watch the cold sky
The bright star is still with us
Morning never comes
Tricks and traits can change
January is over
Walking in the rain

She stinks I can tell
Her false lashes have been pulled
Like a pork sandwich

Reality flumps
Melts down messy with warm milk
Mississippi Mud
Scrawled upon the wall
Passionate about writing
In tangerine paint

On top of the bridge
Waiting for the snow to come
She begins to cry

Music makes her smile
She responds until it stops
Then she hibernates
Thinking about her
Won’t bring her back from Paris
And her dizzy heights

The subway train snakes
Two four seven three six five
Breaking like the News

They change the rules too quickly
Like the padlock bridge
One degree warmer
The ice sculptures start to melt
Beating down the walls

She digs her heels in
Twenty four hours later
She must’ve been hurt


Monday, 23 January 2017

Toy Gangsta

She paints with words upon the wall
Her bitter accent sounds so cold
Speaks sixty languages in all
And walks on stilts so I’ve been told

And still her portrait grows and grows
Towering high like city cranes
On bended knee she paints her toes
With fuchsias reds and blues insane

Like scaffolding on castor wheels                                     
Spring water flows but soon turns brown
Dressed to the nines with broken heels
Blackfriars bridge in Salford town

Shot by Toy Gangsta high on crime
We all fall down like in the rhyme

Saturday, 21 January 2017

Taking on the World...

And then she opens up my head
And tries in vain to find my brain
She didn’t leave me there for dead
She found a way to cure my pain

She cauterised me with her love
I had to let her do her thing
And although it was really fun
It felt like ten rounds in the ring

In the rain again and walking
Yeah working for the money man
Taking on the world just talking
And doing it the best I can

She injects dye to make me blue
And then she says she loves me true…


Saturday, 14 January 2017

Flitch Faction in 501 words #1

FLITCH FACTION in 501 words...
the idea is to write something off the top of your head in exactly 501 words, then post it on your weblog and leave a link in my comments. Happy writing!

The subject this week is DOWN UNDER

Here's mine:

They built the power station next door to the coal mine which made a lot of sense at the time but then one day they closed all the coal mines in that country because they were a post production society now and it wasn’t pc to send men down underground or to rape the earth for coal anymore and because Maggie wanted to smash the unions and a few faces like her forebears did at Peterloo and they said it was the wrong type of coal anyway like the wrong type of snow that brought the railways to a halt twenty five years ago so they have to import the right type of coal now to feed the power station from Australia so they’re still getting their coal from down under even if it is from an opencast mine then they ship it to a dock and load it onto a conveyor belt that goes straight to the furnace so the people of that country can watch TV and microwave their frozen sausages to keep them warm when they do a hard days work online and nobody says anything about raping the earth anymore or about the fracking state of that country or the dangers of  deep down under the sea gold mining in Africa or the seven mile long tunnel they want to build beneath the bestest little city on earth and you don’t hear much about Mrs Whippy now she’s pushing up daisies unless it’s about one of her twins being lost in the Sahara or when bus fares go up like they do every year since deregulation and the national health service in that country is falling apart and they still want to privatise it like she wanted to so everyone in that country can make somebody in another country very rich like they did with the railways and the national grid and try to make people buy shares in something they already own and sell off all the council houses so there’s no place for people to rent in the villages and all the young people have to move to the towns because nobody can afford to work on the farms anymore and they will have to import their food from somewhere else like they do with coal and the ex-pats will be rubbing their hands at the prospect of supplying lamb chops with NZ stamped on them again and as the bird flu over the cuckoos nest so free range eggs will get very expensive as information starts coming out of lugholes and emerges like planets and atolls they’re still looking for Atlantis don’t they know that there’s a whole undiscovered continent beneath the ocean knowledge is the beginning of something and the end of something else I’m not having a dig at that country or raping the earth or anything honestly I’m simply recycling re-purposing reusing and redesigning absolutely everything I can lay my hands on even if that does mean me digging down under.


Wednesday, 4 January 2017

Song #680

We are happy people
From a mythical place
Under the spotlight
We are happy people
We are happy people
From a mythical place
Under the spotlight
We are happy people

Outside Jersey Street Mill
There stands a Jack with his Jill
Singing nursery rhymes
From a mythical time

Under the gas light
They are a happy couple

In Ancoats Cottonopolis
There is so much bliss
Jill singing to her man
Jack be nimble - if you can

Under the street light
They are a happy couple

A shoe shop assistant
In that mythical age
But Jill was insistent
She could have been on stage

Under the spotlight
They are a happy couple

We are happy people
From a mythical place
Under the spotlight
We are happy people
We are happy people
From a mythical place
Under the spotlight
We are happy people


Sunday, 18 December 2016

DIY Religion...

I hope they get the Christmas they deserve
And pray they don’t forget to hear the word

The bright star comes and snow falls in the east

The poor have hope so please Lord hear my plea
The Times Square Christmas tree shines in New York
Injustice shuts its mouth hope sets me free
But who dug the fools gold from the side walk?

I hope they get the Christmas they deserve
And pray they don’t forget to hear the word 

The sunny west where money grows on trees

California - From Cathedral City
To Tinsel Town and upside down sweet talk
Where is my hope who can see hope for me
What are you doing swooping like a hawk?

I hope you get the Christmas you deserve
And pray you don’t forget to hear the word


Friday, 25 November 2016


She rattles the window pane
And decides to travel bi-plane
I hear you in your pain…
And anything else would be plain

Scribbledy dibbledy doo
She never can barbershop blues
Der lap and she slip like you do
Over the hill the wind blew...

She sings the same line refrain
The King of Kingston can reign
She drags it out time and again
And walks her hounds in the rain

But every time she appears
Something grows out of her ears


Friday, 9 September 2016


She steams off cools down
Packs up at the packet house
It’s autumn in Maine

Don’t slip on the leaves
Skewiffology she says
If they block the drain…

Standing on her head
Which way do the tram tracks run
Sideways or straight plane

She sat through August
Trying to ignore the pain
With Pontefract Cakes

Liquorice not liquor
Square potato tortilla
From The Spanish Main

Nobody knows what she’s got
She waits in the rain

They worship their gods
Raising hands praising TV
Legs like a crane

Chillies for breakfast
Stationary as a toy train
She’s too hot to hoot


Wednesday, 10 August 2016

Blah blah blah

She’s sitting on the rooftops  
Staring at the slates
Looking at the acrobats
Smoking like tall chimney stacks 
In Qwerty old town

Banging on the keyboard
She tries to take it down
Looking at the night skies
She knows that they’re watching
Her out in eternity

Star men blinking message rats
That sent the ugly dinosaurs
To fight their wars in time
But they’ve not got what she’s got
Beyond the Milky Way

Dash Mars Morse code dot splash
Dit dit dit dah dah dah dit dit dit


Sunday, 26 June 2016

Every little helps...

If for any reason you change your mind
about your vote a purchase we’ll happily
overturn the referendum refund or exchange it.
Brexit Tesco, every vote counts little helps!

Friday, 24 June 2016

Blah blah blah...

It’s bed and breakfast with the queen
The EU border at Gretna Green
A united Ireland and other dreams
The union flag’s beyond Jack’s means

Miscellaneous ingenuity
Who trusts who Miss Gullibility 
Your disingenuous two faced love
Remain or stay at the kitchen stove

Arranging leaves about her ears
She stems the blood with pinking shears
Misinformation what a chore
To blame someone she’s looking for

Remote control - drone on and moan
It’s funny how the numbers clone
Shouting louder than the lager lout
She makes her mark but still she doubts

Her children with blunt little scissors
They paste red tapes on her bathroom mirrors
Living in fear as the new dawn breaks
How can she make those Chorley Cakes

She thinks she’s independent thinking
Spouting myths she’s got no inkling
Nothings changed it’s much the same
She still needs someone else to blame

Saturday, 18 June 2016

Referendum dum dum ...

Referendum what a bore
The man in the street will still be poor
And the rich will be richer than before

The press will descend on Manchester
And what she declares the world will swallow
The public’s chance to change tomorrow
Leave or stay? Remain or exit?
United Europe? Or Sporting Brexit?
The lying deceitful corrupt elite
Boring yawning I’m snoring asleep

We’re not voting for a personality
It’s not a party political thing
Is this our one shot at democracy?
Eurocrats – idealistic or pragmatic?
Floating voter don’t miss the boat yeah
The London centric meritocracy
Whatever they say there’ll be bureaucracy 

Referendum what a bore
The man in the street will still be poor
And the rich will be richer than before

The impracticality of reality
If the truth were told no one would vote
Fortress Europe we’re outside of the moat
It’s all insane – a stupid joke
Nobody knows if we’ll sink or float
The party you stand for might be wrong
It’s your chance to perform - play your own tune

Write your own lyrics and sing your own song
Don’t vote for this geezer or for that clown
If you’re feeling snookered - Take off your blinkers
Make up your own mind - it’s your turn to think
It’s not the way that the biscuit breaks
Pot luck - Russian Roulette - no room for mistakes
Like the lady said: Is it Eccles Cakes!


Wednesday, 11 May 2016

More Magic...

I wrote this for Mad Kane's Limerick prompt.
The idea was to use case as the rhyming word.

Here's my attempt:


She packed herself inside a flaming case
So nobody could even see her face
She did it for a joke
Then just went up in smoke
And quickly disappeared without a trace


Sunday, 1 May 2016

NaPoWriMo 2016 Conclusion

NaPoWriMo 2016


First of all, congratulations to everybody who completed the challenge of writing thirty poems in thirty days. I enjoyed doing it for the most part, but I am, as always, a little disappointed that there are so few pieces that I think are any good. There are one or two that I feel I can do some more work on, and there is actually one that I have already performed, so perhaps, things aren’t as bad as I’m painting them.

Finally, I am going to post a poem today that I wrote last November, the working title is Manchester Tarts:

Up in flames like the chippy on China Lane
This car park on a vacant lot
Was once the site of the burnt out shell
Of the only shop that didn’t get bombed in the war

Shoulder to shoulder shoehorned to attention  
All ages and colours and creeds
From Piccadilly to the Daily Express
With their photographic memories
Those beautiful buildings mesmerising me

Drawing us all - including you - into
The bestest little city in the world
And how we miss our china plates
Woolworth's and The Queen's Hotel
New Brown Street and Swan Lane
And whatever happened to Tommy Ducks

For forty-five years I’ve wanted to paint you  
Map you - photograph you half to death
Your shop fronts change - logos come and go
But the beauty of your facades remain

It’s funny how so many young thin  
Fashionista’s like such old fashioned things
All those gold and diamond rings
That they buy from the pawn shop
Where the sex shop used to be

Some people never get sick and old
They tell the same jokes that they were told
Sell the brown brogues that they sold
In eighteen-sixty-nine and the years unfold
Like the Tib Street Parrot and the price of gold

Fashion is the passion for all ages
The vintage clothes stores are the New Oasis
The inking parlours and the piercing places
For the cafĂ© cavemen and The Millstone Elvis  
We all fall down in the middle Yates’s

Glitterista and her sister are out on the razz
If looks could kill in mum’s ball gown
Up to the nines in The Castle and all that jazz
The wholesale markets are well out of bounds

Advertising boards now clutter the pavements
The hairdressers and the bargain basements
From Diet Deli to the gutter - screaming
All Day Breakfast’s - Bacon and Sausage Barm’s
Non Stop Breakfasts’s - Free Coffee Refills
Hot Custard - Bakewell puddings - Manchester Tarts

But this is an empty car park on a vacant lot
That was once the site of the burnt out shell
Of the only shop that didn’t get bombed in the war


Saturday, 30 April 2016

Day Thirty

NaPoWriMo 2016

Day Thirty

You know
I know that - you’re playing a game
You tell me you paint your toenails blue
You mess with my head - but you stay the same
All night you talk to…? I haven’t a clue

You know
I know that - there is only you
Behind your grin and bear it persona
Sparkling and dizzy - and heady just you
Fizzy like Tizer pop and Corona

You know
I know that - you figured me out
You’ve got to stop sending – post cards in code
Stop listening to the monsters that shout
And mail me a letter to my abode

You know
I know that - the other and this
You know
I know that - it’s you that I miss


Friday, 29 April 2016

Day Twenty Nine

Day Twenty Nine

The prompt at NaPoWriMo today was to
write a poem based on things you remember.

Here’s mine:

Monday we said we would always be bold  
My very first kiss – sixteen – seconds old
Falling back to earth in a lead balloon
She thought that she was flying to the moon

Memories can flatter and sometimes please
Dib dib dib - Dob dob dob - all of those d’s
Falling off the pier she soon learnt to swim
Remember the day of the world cup win

Akela – the sex pest – we’ll do our best
She tried to tempt me did I pass the test
Remember the cold November the fifth
Tuesday was colder she told me forthwith

I’m always wrong so she won’t let me stay
Monday through Tuesday - to half day Wednesday


Thursday, 28 April 2016

Day Twenty Eight

Day Twenty Eight

The prompt at NaPoWriMo today was to write a poem
that tells a story backwards, therefore, the first line should
say what happened last.

Here’s mine:

Finally she pulled the trigger and walked away  
She hated them all with a vengeance
The alley cats that rooted through trash cans like bin dogs
The fat cats that came over her neighbour’s wall
The wild cats in the shed at the bottom of her garden
Anything to do with cats she hated
But only because they made a lot of noise
Of course she hated children more than adults
In reality Betty was the archetypal curtain twitcher
To protect the innocent or so she said
On her home computer she would change all the names
She would type it up from the shorthand later
Everything went into her reporter’s notebook
She had to write everything down
She couldn’t help herself
She wrote things on a postcard sometimes


Wednesday, 27 April 2016

Day Twenty Seven

   Day Twenty Seven

   Her made up world of shopping for shoes/ Under the bed she has continents of them/ Amazonian rain forests full of knee high boots/ Islands the size of Timbuktu stuffed with carrier bags/ And receipts for stiletto’s that she’ll never wear/ I went to visit her once and she took an hour to find an odd shoe/ It was under the bed after all she said when I asked/ I spent the day with her and she changed her shoes nine times/ Under the mattress her high heels peep up like Nepalese peaks/ Lower down in the Antarctic of her dreams beneath the floorboards/ And the permafrost the pure lake water is double maybe triple distilled/ For people like me who always thought shoes were just for walking/ She says No, shoes are for wearing sometimes, but mainly for keeping for life/ If you don’t believe me ask Imelda Marcos just don’t let the termites flood in/ 270416

  The prompt at NaPoWriMo today was to write a poem with longer lines than usual.

Tuesday, 26 April 2016

Day Twenty Six

NaPoWriMo 2016

Day Twenty Six

What about April
Even weeds are weedier
What happened to spring

More showers this year than last
And today the snow came back  

In Piccadilly
The man with the feeding tray
Waiting for the birds

The grass is always astro
Dream on you know you can’t play


Monday, 25 April 2016

Day Twenty Five

Day Twenty Five

From time to time
We travel by photography
From one time frame to another
From the present to the past
And from the past into the future
Through the same eyes
We see things in different ways
As if for the very first time
Light is thrown upon the Darkness
Illuminating our minds for ever
We wonder if those shadowy figures knew
That we would still be able to see them
One hundred years after they had gone
Like we know that those that follow us
Will be able to see what we have done
How we lived and the contribution
We made to their lives or perhaps not
From time to time
We travel by photography
From one time frame to another
From the present to the past
And from the past into the future


Sunday, 24 April 2016

Day Twenty Four

Day Twenty Four

She’s kickin’ mad for it like Baudelaire
Done time in prison and she doesn’t care
The painted canvas of her portrait cries
Up in the gallery despite her lies
If I don’t tell her she won’t know the truth
She set herself apart she’s so aloof
As fleeting as modernity methinks
Art Nouveau rings another round of drinks
A gin and tonic and she waves goodbye
As plastic dingle dangles from her eye
The evil flowers that destroyed her soul
Cemeteries that couldn’t make her whole
Roadside crosses planted with red roses
She paints her toes doing Manet poses

Saturday, 23 April 2016

Day Twenty Three

NaPoWriMo 2016

Day Twenty Three

The prompt at NaPoWriMo today was to write a sonnet. I took the end line words from Shakespeare's Sonnet LXI and the (sort of) idea behind the piece
and came up with this:

Do you plan to keep your image open
So sleeplessness will keep me up all night?
Do you think that my sleep will be broken
With images you send to tease my sight?

Do you project your spirit out from thee
So many miles from home my face to pry?
To check me out and steal some time from me
Who knows the measure of your jealousy?

Okay, though much, your love is not so great
My love for you alone keeps me awake
The things I think that does my sleep defeat
Tuned into you watching out for your sake:

One eye on me while you wake up elsewhere
A foreign vacant land without me near

Friday, 22 April 2016

Day Twenty Two

Day Twenty Two

When the sun is shining right through
Rough as you are and feeling blue
Phew Itzy Bitzy Timbucktoo
Choose to be there I want you too

Phew relief that you came back home
Rome is no place for one so young
So young Itzy Bitzy like you
Bleu as they say you are en France

Dancing cool to the latest dance
Romance like Venice and Paris
Marry in the Blacksmith’s workshop
Hop on a train to Gretna Green 

Seen scene everybody’s seen you
You know it’s Earth Day when the sun …


Thursday, 21 April 2016

Day Twenty One

Day Twenty One

Standing still revolving at the same time
Itemise this and that throw the other
Her blanket keeps her warm on the dry nights
Nights when it rains she sleeps under the arch

The arches where all the addicted go
Going there is the worst thing that she hates
She hates it more than queuing up for food
Food that she gets once a day God bless her

Her and a million like her sleep outside
Outside in all weathers fighting for life
File this that and the other sling your hook
Cook some soup take it down to the kitchen

The kitchen where the fire is always hot
Shot to bits on a Saturday so what

I didn’t do the prompt at NaPoWriMo today.

Wednesday, 20 April 2016

Day Twenty

Week 476


Day Twenty

Here’s mine:

Flash Fiction in 51 Syllables

After losing the big game, Dawn tries to pacify her Pet Robot. However scarce it may be for a Robot, he flies into a rage. Dave can’t see what all the fuss is about ‘it’s only a game’, he says.


Tuesday, 19 April 2016

Day Nineteen

NaPoWriMo 2016                                             

Day Nineteen

Is life a competition or a game
Pray tell me soon my all creative one
Ask your troglodyte to discuss his name
He’ll grunt and groan ignoring you for fun
Club you to kingdom come if you let him
You need to exercise control all day
Bind him tightly and whip him till he’s thin
Feed him minute amounts and make him pay
For sins of generations on his back
Exact his breath with boiling lemonade
Kick his wisdom teeth into a black sack
When he’s ready send him out on a raid
Buy ‘How to Tame a Troglodyte’ the book
Make sure the author signs it take a look

The prompt at NaPoWriMo today was to write a ‘How To’ poem

Monday, 18 April 2016

Day Eighteen

NaPoWriMo 2016

Day Eighteen

The conjurer tried to conceal
an ace up his sleeve but no deal
for the audience saw
that the rookie was raw
and the magical deal wasn’t real

I did the Madeleine Begun Kane Limerick prompt today. The idea was to use the rhyming word conceal or seal in the challenge.

Sunday, 17 April 2016

Day Seventeen

NaPoWriMo 2016

Day Seventeen

The prompt at NaPoWriMo today was to
write a poem incorporating at least ten words
from a specialized dictionary - I chose my words
from 'Woodwork for Winemakers' by C.J. Dart
& D.A. Smith.

My Words were:

Carboy trolley
Bottle rack
Mobile bar
Bottle carrier
Malt grain crusher
Cork flogger
Floating syphon
Pulp squeezer

And this is what I wrote:

Who’s the dolly with the carboy trolley?
Bonkers about the bottle rack plonker
It’s Holly and she’s looking for lolly
Dish the dosh and hit her with a conker
I think she’s got a crush on the crusher
It used to be the bottle carrier
Had her eye on the winery brusher
Before that it was the dray farrier
South America would not be too far
Then there was Python the floating syphon
And the malt grain man at the mobile bar
If only she could go back to Brighton
I caught her kissing the pulper geezer
Was the cork flogger a better snogger?
In the back kitchen behind the freezer
Or was it the Canadian logger
She told me the pulp squeezer was better
She just hoped that he would not forget her


Saturday, 16 April 2016

Day Sixteen

NaPoWriMo 2016

Day Sixteen

Welcome to Manchester
Or should that read
Greetings from Manchester
Or perhaps
Welcome to China Town
Or maybe that could say
China Town Manchester
Whatever the weather the
Umbrellas are out shielding
And shading us from the sun
Parasol City this is not
Welcome to The Rainy City
on a sunny day perhaps?


They had an Almanac Questionnaire as today's
prompt at NaPoWriMo. I chose 'Picture on your
City's Postcard' from the extensive topic list.

Friday, 15 April 2016

Day Fifteen

NaPoWriMo 2016

Day Fifteen

Trouble don’t come so easy these days
You need to take a broom and brush it
Push it to the limit if you can
The bin dogs and alley cats know these things
And the garbage man
I’ve been waiting all day for you to come home
The wife said to the monkey
Double trouble hubby bubble
The wife said to the monkey

The prompt at NaPoWriMo today was to write
a poem that incorporates the idea of doubles.

Thursday, 14 April 2016

Day Fourteen

NaPoWriMo 2016

Day Fourteen

The prompt at NaPoWriMo today was to write a San San Poem.

Here's mine:

She looks at me etcetera
Pulling a mean and bitey face
I hide her cone shade but stay close
Wishing I had gone to Petra
The rose red city would be ace
She lifts her gun and starts to squeeze
Squirting water towards my nose
I pick my hose up and shout Freeze!


Wednesday, 13 April 2016

Day Thirteen


Sometime after the crash, Dave had a touch of melancholy madness.
Dawn tried to console him, saying, ‘the windscreen was virtually opaque’.
The nimble pet robot had been behind the wheel, still Dave blamed himself.


The prompt at NaPoWriMo today was a bit cookie, 
so I did the Wednesday thing at 3ww.

Tuesday, 12 April 2016

Day Twelve

NaPoWriMo 2016

Day Twelve

The prompt at NaPoWriMo today was to write an Index Poem.

Here's my attempt:

Acid heads are as bad as those that are
Alcohol fuelled filled to overflowing
Aluminium cans get kicked down the street
Ammunition can be so explosive

Batteries can power her motor and
Bleach can be used to clean her kitchen sink
Bombs can explode at unexpected times
Brown can be seen as a colour or not 

Calcium’s out there in rocks and in chalk
Carbon can be found in the sun and stars
Charcoal can be kicked about the back yard
Chrome she cleans with aluminium foil

Detonate the bombs and ammunition
Dimes cents dollars and yen can’t compensate


Monday, 11 April 2016

Day Eleven

NaPoWriMo 2016

Day Eleven

Watching it intrudes into my
Life it takes up a huge amount
Of room in my living space
I watch it sometimes
But sometimes not
It talks to me informs me
Sometimes it tries to sell
Things to me products and
Ideas that I don’t need  
Sitting on a table by my sofa
It is wider than it is high and
These days it has a flat screen
It has preset channels to receive  
Television and radio broadcasts
And a wireless remote control
I drape the washing over it to dry


I didn't really stick to the prompt today, but I tried to give it a surprise ending.

Today's challenge at NaPoWriMo was to write a poem in which you closely describe an object or place, and then end with a much more abstract line that doesn’t seemingly have anything to do with that object or place, but which, of course, really does. I think of the “surprise” ending to this James Wright Poem as a model for the effect I’m hoping you’ll achieve. An abstract, philosophical kind of statement closing out a poem that is otherwise intensely focused on physical, sensory details. Happy writing!