The dithyramb of the blackbird
Pause
A smile is nothing
Cost nothing to smile
But a smile is still nothing

Thugs, brutes, conmen,
Placenta chowed down 
bastards & various adolescent
masses

Mike Marsdon
Alfred Blood
Alfred Mook
 Alisson Durrique D'abo
Feedback loops
Norman weiner(electrical circuit loops)
Odun: ecology
Club of Rome : limits to growth.
Jay Forrester
Greed of the western elites

Odin

A Great man is,  at best, the one who
realises qualities possessed by others.
He is only supreme for that revelation,

He sees his limitations
Unlike janus-faced
non-hierarchical community espousers,
he realises the distinct.

Individual interests are not petty
because they are talents
or at least latent.





What drives people is pewter,
Or to be more specific, the idea of
Happiness which is the same as power.

To proceed with Egalite,
it
has to be enforced
Thence, hierarchical,
whilst in constant denial

Mad as Mahdi

O Mahomet,

great prophet

with your followers

All Mad as Hades

Show me

Wisdom of your mountain cave

over all mobs & illusions

Oh MAHMET, 

peace upon thine in the midst of

these rutting dogs of war,

Embrace yourself

Fall onto swords of grace

Entreat dethrone embroil

entice grandma's adagio

Embattle tragedy, 

unveil the sophistry of the good

unmask their prosaic hypocrisy

by Gad, by Jihad

Burn off all artifices,

all these clerical mousetraps

In West Wales

Dogwalking is all I Know

Parallel walking

a tyre on either side of the track

up the soggy road 

Hardly Kanchenjunga.

Ahead lies a spectacular heap 
of stones on the hill 

Although fleetingly agile
feeling like bits 

gently disintegrating 
like asteroids into the ages 

Unwell,  glandular,

not sprightly, dogshit 
but not from the night before

The sundown ahead

Reflecting so wonderfully

Crags and sky 
describable only in terms 
of oil painting

Unreality I suppose

A dog yawns 
the same

at this hour and at dawn.

Feeling 
I’ve been a fool

about friends

Can only look at my 
espadrilles sink 
into bountiful dung of

countless horses,

sheep, dogs & ponies

A crazed sheepdog drops a rock

Before me

 I throw it into the stream and he retrieves it,

Pawing it from the water back to me.

he repeats this with boundless enthusiasm

Irrefutably,

This could always be 
One sunset 
Ultimate.

Flickering Flame

The whole world is about
Not being immortal
A measure of barbarism,
thrown in
is what keeps us

Mortality the rub
a tender shy curious fumble
a robin on a rusty iron rod,
his breeze being
the dew of the moment
the only immortality.
the sputtering heart
the girlchild's red flush
in romance alluded to.

Build me a poem
like that shack we built
over a drain between the house

The Docking of the Mad Dog Rupert Murdoch

Now that the most extreme examples of the free press have been docked, their hitherto much-gorged upon excesses of bad taste brought to extreme scrutiny, the mob braying for the tyrant's blood - since the wind of the vox populi is now blowing against them, since they're now effectively busted, now what ? They (the elites, the liberal celebs) have found the perfect excuse to curtail press freedoms and bring about a new order of things whereby the yobs and the chavs (supposedly Rupert's beloved red-top supporters)  can be put out as beyond the pale as possible.
Perhaps a victory for debauched roman empire tyrant lunatics like Berlosconi rather than the contrary.  As usual no-one has thought this through, they've let their slave instincts get the better of them.

(Leveson enquiry, hugh grant, jk rowling, hacking scandal, news of the world)

somnambulist poem

Englands had many ages
shes gentle in a storm
I knocked into her as a woman
in the night.
She said don't come,
the wine will spring forth
like sore cats
Stumbiling back on the
field
you'll
Inherit the rot,
rather than
The van Rijns
no more crossword poetry
the words will spill forth
like an African night
hungry, and doomed.