We Want Our Road Signs & Street Furniture Clean!

I often feel the urge to clean
Dirty road signs, 30
Speed limit, a fingerpost, route
Confirmation, place name
Or neglected row of bollards

And refresh a telephone box
Sanitise the handset
Sparkle the windows, leave a bowl
Of potpourri on shelf

After all, the obscuring grime
Put there, for some of it
I’m responsible. A visit
Proves so tempting, to squirt
A green, environmentally
-Friendly cleaner and rub
With a soft cloth material

Join me, come on! Just spray, wipe, clean
And go. Let’s do it – yes!
It’s sure to catch on everywhere
Once they see what we’ve done

What Did Elvis Know About the Sex Pistols?

At all?

The timing’s quite tight
is my belief:

Elvis, dead
the Pistols rise to fame

His last performance
the summer of ’77

Their first

When did they receive initial airplay
in the USofA?

I am weaned-off
internet search engines
I reckon a guess
is good enough

What would The King
have made of the anarchists?

And they of him?

Let’s imagine

“An imagined meeting
a social exchange”

Would an expression of awe determine the looks on their little faces?
Would he have been gracious and expressed warmth?

You might think not
but it could have been

Quickly passing by
feelings of awkwardness

Talk about home
settles everyone

Mom and Pop
Mother and Father

lost and living

A little dog from long ago
the family pet

On impulse
someone suggests a cappella
They do it

Arms resting over each other’s shoulders
although careful not to mess up anyone’s hair

Fist-bumps happen at the end
and “Whenever you’re next in town…”

That’s how it’d go
as far as anyone knows


Give up your ill-gotten gain
kings queens lords and dukes
of lands where forests once thrived
move out move on leave

If your palaces, castles
and manors decay
crumble down into the ground
I care not one jot

Ivy creep over all walls
let the roof fall in
dust and cobwebs catch the light
chandelier dull

“An ancestral general
he helped win a war
blood spilt, to secure for good
eternal reward”

No Duke, the battles were won
but not in our name
your birthright is a falsehood
entitlement gone

We’ll have the trees back growing
fish swimming the lakes
sheep and cattle grazing free
families return

A new age, heard it before?
nothing will change so you say
not now nor ever
well, don’t be so sure

We believe, not in your Gods
not your politics
but in people and friendship
and our planet Earth

And you Duke, well what of you?
you will need a job
to afford the rent each month
on a fair semi

Actually earn your wages
see what you can do
welcome to society
come sit next to me

Let You Be

If you need more, the car will show the way
On road we go, or land not known to say
Or land not known to say

Sit back and chill the seed is now a tree
The hills sweep low, a bell does ring for thee
A bell does ring for thee

We park not far, to walk the rest on grass
The wood has grown all green now hides the pass
All green now hides the pass

A scent of sea or salt to sand and blue
We track a stream, you know it leads us through
You know it leads us through

On chalk our steps drift dust, to air and light
The house we know. is dark and stands on white
Is dark and stands on white

A gate is done the beach at last in view
With thoughts we sit, no words I say to you
No words I say to you

No crowd will come, we share this space alone
No time is lost, the rocks become your throne
The rocks become your throne

We wave goodbye it’s time to let you be
I leave you here, the place you love found me
The place you love found me

Looks Like Sunshine

If the plug ever gets pulled
on the internet and the
world wide web collapses
into a silk thread mess

how will we tell the weather?
We’ll look out through our windows
there every morning
we’ll eye the sky

Everyone will learn about clouds again
understand what the hues of red
orange and purple mean
the breeze and the rain

the behaviour of birds
animals and insects
it’ll all become clear and we’ll
feel more connected than ever before

A Whole Lot of Rubbish Too

I looked through the albums
of the Beatles recently,
studied track listings
and listened
to unfamiliar tunes.

Most of the little known songs
are pretty seriously
mediocre, in comparison
to the ones known well.

It’s true of the Stones too,
when you look.
Bowie and ABBA.

In actual fact,
it’s true of nearly every band
or performer.
Or writer, poet, painter, actor,

There’s a whole lot more rubbish
out there they did,
than the good stuff.

This probably comes as no surprise
to you.