Category Archives: PROG-PROSE

LETRASET LANE .. .

letraset lane .. . .. Back streets cobbled    hidden off-street parking   green door shabby   betide brushed-tin sign placard to an advertising   business, screwed flush    against the wall, engraved   in times new roman desk-top publishing’s arrival    puts the … Continue reading

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TESCO OFFERS .. .

tesco offers .. .. i Step down walkways   imaginations memoirs   clinging; still hung over   in your full bloodied mind   concerning latest cortex             of worries   dreams ill-defined I join this … Continue reading

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HELL ON FIRE: with THREE HARES, a QUADRILLE and a QUAIL in a COCONUT SKY .. .

Hell on fire with 3 hares, a quadrille and a quail .. . in a coconut sky A sonnet burns upon this flaxen heath      flairs are lit within my glowered eyes storm the harbinger of yellowed grief dance … Continue reading

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TURNER PRIZE .. .

Turner Prize .. . by your leave I am not sullied by semantics my projects laid out like morning clothes Charles Wesley spoke with the chamber maid lay down your guns in charcoal the chamber maid spoke with the cook … Continue reading

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WHAT’S THAT PAINTING ON THE WALL .. .

What’s that painting on the wall? … .. in the half light it seemed the best place to start to try to explain there is a painting on the wall we were in a cafe before we all stopped smoking … Continue reading

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INDIGENOUS INDIGESTION – beat bop

Indigenous indigestion – beat-bop People are proud of their heritage sitting on balconies with their windie boxes wondering if the structure they are sitting on is secure enough to take their weight the high-rise boxes they now live in are no … Continue reading

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STEINBECK LANE .. .

Steinbeck Lane .. . .. Where I grew up in gunner’s shale   shoes polished, faces paper pale the television flickered bread was stale   we put a brave face on and smiled green the carpet spread about us   … Continue reading

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FORSOOTH .. .

. forsooth .. . … . Branded by categories paranoia on a train heading east where sandals divide toes and sardines lie in tins I memorise lines of Chaucer not enough time to digest all she wrote me or candles … Continue reading

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AT HOME WITH JOHN MARTIN .. .

at home with John Martin .. . . . We wrung the neck of life slashed the face off it i stumbled around in the dark reached out my hands found sheafs of crumpled paper by a match I read … Continue reading

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BRITPOP AS A VISTA .. .

britpop as a vista …         sad as I feelmy teenage duty laid asidelaid down and out on a level floorour horizons reduced to lard worlds recycledin a toxic bin of sourdough andaspiration dressed in sardine stripeshollow … Continue reading

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