How an Angel Get’s it’s wings.

how an angel gets it’s wings,
is to accept to do many things,
to clean up other peoples mess,
it’s dirty but i must confess,
there’s nothing makes her smile more,
than a nice clean fresh dirt free floor,

an angel fights to accept a job,
to work all hours like a cog,
always there from seven til late,
to never miss a well planned date,
as if life’s path is actual fate,

an angel gets it’s wings like this,
to clean up poop and smells and piss,
to be quiet and kind and mild mannered,
let others go first is always standard,

and do all this without a word,
an angel’s work is seen not heard,
but wings are given frugally,
to those who do the little things,
be nice and kind and happy too,
and you will fly eternity.


subway subway bus and plane,
suddenly a maglev came,
then i took another bus,
walked the rest until i sussed,
all the travel i have taken,
everything except flying bacon.

Office Decor

the white walls stare at me,
their gaze quite hypnotic,
the paintings are boring, but break up the form,
the colour is lacking and what is the point,
of nothing but blackness, no wait i meant white,
it is very sickly, the little black marks,
it needs a refreshing, probably white for a start,
reflecting the sunlight and tubes full of matter,
i feel my soul break at the white walls that shatter,
they bring order and break it,
by sucking my soul,
right out of my body,
and onto themselves.

Face Masks

those face masks,
those face masks,
the ones that they wear,

they do not think that they breathe clean air,

maybe its culture,
maybe its fear,
but im pretty sure,
that i breath clean air,

theres nothing,
no business,
no factory plant,
so why do they wear those face masks that i shant,

mystery mist and maybe ive missed,
the whole point of wearing,
a face mask assist,

a white guy i followed,
wore one on his hollowed,
empty old noggin,
he looked like a snob,

how pompous he was,
how arrogant too,
the air is fine honest,
so throw it askew,

i will not wear a face mask, no fear my dear,
i know the truth,
its clean air around here.

A Bubble Bath

a bath, a bath, a bubble bath,
a place to relax, a place to renew,
to loosen the flem,
to soften the heart,
to ease those tight muscles,
and have a nice splash,
it’s not good for cleaning,
I’m sure you’ll agree,
I can’t reach my armpits or anywhere free,
but I can relax without a care,
invigorate my luscious hair,
a baptism, a birth, a brand new me,
a bath, a bath, a bubble bath.

Too Many Shops

Internet bar, coffee and tea,
walking along and now i can't see,
thousands of shops appear before me,
what should i do?, i only want fruit,
i only went out to loot a few fruit,
but now i see handbags and dresses and hats,
and really small trinkets and glasses and tat,
i guess I'll walk home in a blur with no fruit.

Birth of Surveillance

A future of watching, no war, observation.
Glancing look, first, second, third nation.
Don't stare back, or risk the vibration.
Into the eye of our fine creation.
It's dilation is harrowing,
and gaze seems narrowing,
let's go home and take the heroin.

A Box

when a child is born,
maybe little and weak,
the parents ask to care,
in an incubate fair,

three nice little presents,
with a flowery bow,
twenty-two red socks,
two shoes and some blocks,

a lot older now,
more things in my room,
the space is a rectangle,
with window and broom,

my canvas sits waiting,
A square rainbow frustrating,
I try to keep painting,
but games are awaiting,

the console oblong,
cathode ray tube tv,
where’s the remote,
on the table near me,

the bus is here,
a giant cube van,
pick up my stuff,
as cheap as you can,

put it in boxes,
don’t break my toys,
use the tape,
and keep it safe,

a dvd collection,
music cds and books,
hardback and soft,
I collect junk in the loft,

gosh a flight,
that’s a big plane,
where are we going?,
on holiday to Spain,

did you pack my suitcase,
is it a box,
yes but with wheels,
a handle and zip,

quite tired now,
i’ll have a sit down,
my chair is a shape,
akin to a crate,

bit hungry for food,
a pizza I need,
a flat pack stack,
of meat to unpack,

where’s my pencils,
in that tin over there,
i’ll have a quick sketch,
and draw some poor wretch,

onto the paper,
rectangle or square,
another container,
for my ideas and fears,

what about sculpture,
what do we need,
a big block of something,
to chip at and knead.

a shipment my package,
can't wait to unwrap it,
let's see the napsack,
brand new backpack,

online a robot,
quite cheap too,
it’s cuboid and mute,
and bound to be cute,

so many vessels,
and time claims me too,
my final box laughin’,
a novelty coffin.

I could keep going on,
about boxes and that,
it is fun to see,
all the stuff that would be,

hidden away in chests,
and in tombs,
in the minds of our heirlooms,
our children and rooms,

keep it all going,
and try to be free,
remember the things,
that we used to be,

stored in a box,
a crib or a bed,
my shoes or a photo,
a view in my head,

everything contained,
and made to be trained,
all into a box,
a beautiful box.

If I was a cat

If I was a cat
I'd look in the house
around the corner
to find a big mouse

If I was a cat
I'd cuddle you tight
and tuck you in
your bed at night

If I was a cat
I wanna eat fish
Milk and fish
in my dish

If I was a cat
I'd sleep all day
miss all my classes
and never wear glasses

If I was a cat
I'd give you a gift
a bird in the kitchen
for you to catch

If I was a cat
I'd boss you around
you live with me
not the other way round.

If I was a cat
I'm yours, however,
don't you forget it
my friend forever.


My silent disquiet
No job / balanced diet
It was very dark
and some kind of strange mark
on the corner of my soul
at my hearts very role
of silence and jobless
unemployed and empty
today and tomorrow
A job never talking
The dog whines for walking
My morning destroyed
by an evening of games
Apply for loads boring
forever dreams warring
of stairs up and down
feeling quite letdown.

The End

It ended quite stark
the morning of tears
after an evening of fears
my darling my dear
it could have worked you know
together forever
is what we were told
my first love my dear
the hopeless dwell lying
my heart always trying
to repair the undying
told that it's over
at least i survived
winter was aweful
and i feel empty
that place is bleak
it'll make you quite weak
a socialist nightmare
with no one and nothing
no job and no hope
only 10 million people
4 million refugees
a system of duties
for all to adhere
no one can stay
too long is a day.