i wish never rain.

the moon is a vegetable oxo cube

god could crumble her on his dinner

all is futile useless derelict

all is second-hand lifeless

nothing, decay

novel if you’re lucky

love is an onion wrapped in cling film

rotten on the inside

cold to the touch

death is a christmas bird in the oven

the stars all drown in a mustard hutch

blah blah woof those eyes are a twiglet

A second class guide is a third class girl

here come the japanese fish tank mongers

they concrete the marshland for fascist spear chuckers

who jump in the puddle for a golden brick

so the olympian barrow-man men in wigs

earn a million pounds of useless fat from

making railway sidings from ploughshares

making a mint a killing a bomb

don’t convict them they don’t know the difference

between good and evil in this instance

turning ragwort into credit cards looks like quite a guru’s trick

where have all those shining lights gone now

my mind is full of water

dull

the cacophony

penetrates like globs of tarmac

pouring through a hole in time weighing more than a doggy bag

under the sunken eye of summer

preying on my wurlitzer my crushed epiphany

my empty treasure chest

my corned beef heart pops drably through another day

why do you expose me to this quintessential misery

where nothing is spoken and nothing is heard

amongst the hail

of words words words

like a flock of wrens

like a dash of supermen

like an episode of recognition

what is the point of remembering that ring a ding ding

what is it that you couldn’t recall you’d already forgotten

down the mine shaft

water drips

pit props flush with the soul of a canary

creak beneath our ludicrous crashing

what keeps it up this mad of cards

what keeps us in this dented mirror

“i wish i wish you'd come back master

come crashing through the window in a slap of whispers

crumble stardust on my semi-unconsciousness

freeze it with a pall of winter never warm my dinner up

never let me think again

i wish i wish you'd drown me like a bridge-wreck train

under water screeching as befits the angry ektoskeletal monster”

renfield said

with the crush of an ant

when the walls unfurled

A second class guide is a third class girl

A second class guide is a third class girl.

no idea when i wrote this - got some mustard hutch references ab out 2003 maybe