living in the

Living in the

shuffling grey pavement

dodging drying puke

pigeons prancing around their trophy

as newspapers flap on the corner

next to dog shit streaks

& today could a better day

the barrow boys

collecting cans

unwanted gifts in trash bins

diesel hangs in the air

mixing with the drain smell

just never enough rain

to wash all this completely away

living in the shitty

just a kid growing up

one day you wake up

there’s a bit of a breeze

the rain has washed the world

sun cutting through the high rise

shining on a thing of plastic

a full baggie on the pavement

notes fluttering the street

you stoop to tie your laces

gather what you can

mooching away slowly

looking out for the man

make it to the corner

get light on your toes

is just life in the shitty

grab it with both hands

tomorrow will not be the same

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& oh, she’s a bully

got her victim game

down right

holding tight to her truths

waiting to bring out

her killer lines

trump cards in a sad life

sadder than yours

anyway

& these must be respected

or you are just one more

who deals out the pain

she will give nothing

yet take everything away

& if you were to meet

her here

next year

nothing will have changed

maybe a line is more refined

& you feel accused

of being in a long line

while she laments

how tiny, fragile, powerless

it is to be

her here

& next year

you might begin to think

the strength it takes

to hold

lockdown

her victim position

to never move on

& you

are not here

next year

Lenny RIP

leonards lyrics

come to me

late at night

when trying to sleep

words going over, over

not there is any message

relevance to today

just a line

phrase

echoing deep

taking me into happy times

some sad

she said

I’ll play you just this one

& let the groove slip on

a dozen albums later

I’m rooting for the man

who might’ve gone clear

while the words reverb

around my head

taking me towards the light

The caek is a lie

so many things held out

desirable

needed in your hip life

are a lie

diamonds, say

are one

have only been made scarce

by a corporation of greed heads

who even invented traditions

to sell their semi-precious rocks

& when you shell out your life wages

to get on a bended knee

place the gold & stone

on her finger three

you are there

because a man in a suit

needs your money more than you

your priced romance stone

has a clone

in a bank

holding thousands just the same

& you won’t listen

why should you

you need the story

hold up the other rocks in your life

buy the stone

go buy the cake

come bring me a slice

just don’t bust me up

if & when I let slip

the caek is a lie…

Gone missing, not presumed dead

no forwarding address

goodbye note

nothing

& later

when I called

the number given by her sister

my aunt

she denied knowing who I was

& threatened

to call the police

should I call again

later I learned

she had been dead five years

before I knew

finding this out one lazy afternoon

with an idle internet trawl

of her name

she died from COPD

thankfully I’d given up smoking

some long time before

but still

useful genetic information to know

in that distance nuanced way

of having a runaway mother

has

there was no bequest

no will leaving anything

no note

nothing

but I have no doubt

of her forwarding address

packrider says

riding in a pack

from outside looks easy

bikers playing follow the leader

what you might not know

there is your place

within it

to be found

& if you choose wrong

someone will remind you of this

there are the usual obstacles of the road

& then the idiots in cars

who will try to cut in

deciding at the last second

that their exit is coming up

& that you are in their way

some of these need a reminder

of who & what they are dealing with

others can need a more forceful wake up

in case they forget they are dealing with motorcycles

forgetting how vulnerable we are

by creeping for a better look

not understanding

you are keeping to a pattern

watching for potholes

for the guys on hardtails

who feel them thru’ their coccyx

always working to keep up the pace

pressure not to slow the rest down

thinking how much gas is in the tank

sounds of your engine

how others are riding

do they have issues?

& while the people driving

see a mob of mad monsters

you see one recovering from a broken leg

him going through a divorce

that one who doesn’t know it yet

but his woman is leaving him

he with diabetes

him who has the onset of parkinsons

one recovering from a happy life

all in a roar

going somewhere

anywhere

but here

it ain’t me

People I’ve not met in a long time

& he’s fine

there is a smile on his face

& I feel no restraint

apart from that which is expected

from people who knew each other well

once

not seen

each other for a while

as we talk

shake hands

I look over

see his wife’s face

& there I see suspicion

mistrust

some discomfort

& I wonder

who I remind her of

who she knows who doesn’t like me

or I don’t like

some poor gossip

loose affiliation of women

who feel the need to protect their men

don’t have the sensibility

to understand

he has his own instincts

when it comes to dealing

with other men

after all

she will not allow him

to decide her relationships

with her friends