Psychoanalysis on the bus

 What's passing through

My mind as

I'm thinking I'm king Midas

Passing through

Shepton

Everything turns to gold

And green

Butcher of the future

Like a whale boat scene

It looks blue

But I'm only passing through

Only spare, fair

Jesus or Freud

Slow jesus

All manner of 

You have to ask

Past and the present

Your mother, father, brother

Change is good, change is good

Change of pace of mood

Jesus or Freud

Can't tell who I met on the bus

That day

He was sub-conscious swimmer

Delver of the elver feelings

The slippery eels of the mind

Who can control them

Jesus was psychoanalyst

Lie on my couch

Let me heal you

Mouth to mouth

But Jesus was he 

Super Ego, id, or Egoless

Like that poet -rapper himself

Was Freud always looking for the trinity

Divided affinity - 

Father, Son and Holy spirit

The penis envy between them

Perhaps Jesus had an oedipus complex

Was he in love with Mary

Did he wish to kill his father

Electra, Casandra

Foretelling his own death

Due

 By the light of the little morning

I'll be due

By the light of the little morning she'll be due

She'll still be holding on

Come the breaking of the dawn

But in the light of the little morning I'll be due

dreams

 Oh my heart's on the wet stone

And my sorrow's the leaves

And I'm feeling so all alone

And I yet I have to believe

We all were made of bone

To dust we must cleave

The love of another one

Is just only too brief

I've been searching in the gutters

and the streams

And I hear someone mutters

Their life dreams

Looking in the river of stars

That gleam

And in the windows of cars

That beam

Searching for some pity in this town

Searching up and searching down

Looking for some pity in this city

But what I find is mean, lacking dignity

What has happened to the dreams of the man

Who writhes around drinking from a cider can

What is there in life to which he clings

Life to him seems a wretched thing

Can you spare him a look

Can you give to her a book

Let him read of what it sings

That life indeed is a wonderful thing

Searching for some pity in this town

Searching up and searching down

What I find I cannot fully tell

For whom the bell tolls, it's for you as well

People like us

 People like us

We don't make money

People like us riff-raff

Oh we're the hoi-polloi

we can't mix with the elite

The rich, the real cool cats

People like us have to make do

Let it go, move on down the street

It's only people like us that we meet

 

Always you

 Yes it was there

Was it water

Was it wine

Was it yours

Or was it mine?

Well we were there

The bread was spare

I took  nothing

But your time

I am a thief of that at least

Time robbery was my crime

pieces of a life

That we'd been through

I kept the chunks

That belonged to me and you

Now it is washed

In deepest blue

It could've been me

But it was always you

Pastor of Muppets

 In life it seems you can either be a master of puppets

Or a pastor of muppets

Real people

 People are people

They've got to live

All about the mulberry bush

With a bottle full of fizz

In the eighteenth hole

Putting off the green

Who cares scares in the bunker

In tears, in tears

Living in the real world

Real people, real people

I want to be real

I'm an imaginary deal

Let it rip like thunder

The sport of the cracking willow

Feel the rain upon my face

Keep the wind as my pillow

travelogue

 Through hell and high water for the captain's daughter

I roamed across the sea

And though I had sought her,

I never found what I oughta,

But I was just tryin' to be free

When she walked in a bar

Like a movie Star

I was someone behind the scenes

And she tried to mar,

My feathers and tar

She looked cruel and mean

And I bit her bra

And I lit my cigar

On her fire, if you know what I mean

now she's travelled far

in a big black car

and I hardly know where I've been

well it could have been mars

Or down the bottom of bell jars

But that must have been pretty lean

Now she has gone back

To her homeward shack

And I'm left like a string bean

All strung out on the shelf of self

Left here alone so unclean

I must wash myself of her elf health

And get me back on the road again

And it should not be a wealth to

discover oneself

Right back where I had always been

Only in creation are we living beings

Only through destruction can we find construction

And that's all I have to say of those things

Birthday bash

 There was once a birthday

I did attend

By accident

Though it was for a friend

I stepped into the dragon's den

And found myself alone again

Surrounded by my seeming foes

I came at once to bloody blows

And all about a birthday brunch

I found the dinner packed a punch

It was I saw my friend

For twenty years our paths have wend

But winding up or winding down

Neither thought to live in lonely town

Her brother of whom I took a dislike

Had modelled himself upon a Great Tyke

But whether Nero, Romulus or Remus in Rome

Not more a blood thirsty Emperor was he at home

Yet ruled his kingdom beyond his walls

Into the invited friend's birthday halls

As I walked in to join the banquet

He offered me pork in unleven blanket

But I felt sick and refused his offer

Yet he took not kindly to his rejected proffer

He became like a bull, bullish domineering

Like the house party he must be steering

And even once came to stand over me

As if to bring to bear his supreme authority 

I thought what skill what unbridled devotion

Have these loving parents with careless emotion

Brought up a son so confused in mind

That he sees not where he is going as if quite blind

Instead of modelled on Christ the redeemer

He has chosen as his model Trump the ill-seemer

How can such passionate evangelists

Bring into the world such an antagonist?

They could write stories of his follies

For when he comes it never rains but pours on brollies

And held up as if on plinths of stone

He stands there sinless as if Ozymandius alone

Yet what I see are the marks of treachery

Gains by stealing and by vice

He has wheedled his way into paradise

And shut the gates upon his brothers

And thrown down hate upon his mothers

Women he treats as slaves or worse

His blinded pride will be his curse

As Lucifer stepped so stepped he

Onto the path of iniquity 

And a fall surely will follow his pride

As unfortunate damsel his bride

Then the tower of Babel will topple

And collapse upon his sinning people

But what of me, oh me oh my

The I, the id of jealousy

Am I he? Is he I? 

The tepid stream runs dry

If only I could respect my enemy

And show those who transgress

My full Christian forgiveness

For in that act, I'm sure there'd be

An end to all hostility

And road and rage would not rise

Emotion flows and ebbs like tide

And the sun's heat will hot heads fry

Unless in shade some shelter try

I saw the old are replaced by the young

And in such usurpment one must be strong

But holding breath and swimming long

Can no more impress than old Babylon

The Garden Stroll

In the early light

When witches candles turn low to smite

The earthly walkers on a stroll

Beside an ancient garden wall

Then one says to the other

“How strange!?

The brick work of Eden has been rearranged.”

As they ponder mortar and stone

They feel the feeling they aren’t alone

Then an archway becomes clear

Designated this way; ”Do not Enter Here!”

They hold hands then cross the threshold

Into a garden bright and so bold

The green’s of willow

The lush of Ash

Oaken avenues stand in stash

All look starkly like someone’s preserve

They feel darkly like they do not deserve

And then a hare and next a rabbit

Come by close as if by habit

Disarmed the intruders are quite standoffish

Then they realise they appear quite selfish

And pet and talk kind words to the mammals

Feeling next they may meet some camels

As they stand and pervade the view

The garden’s paradise changes hue

And far over a foreign hill

They see Cain fight Able, until one is killed

And open under heaven’s skies

They see rains fall and flooded lies

Noah’s Ark is there by chance

But many a bad creature takes death’s dance

And suddenly they too are running from the flood

By this they find the ties of water

Much stronger than those of blood

All washed up now on heaven’s shore

They think of their stroll to the garden’s core

And they think to themselves, but neither comment

They should not have walked in wherever they wanted

The Plastic surgeon's BBQ

 At the plastic surgeon's barbeque

On the 19th of November

I had to attend the bash

There were supermodels and women who waddled

Because their pockets were so filled with cash

There were hips which lied

And lips which never told the truth

Because they hid under the botox lid

And fake booby traps were the proof

As I wandered around the congregation

Who had gathered round the grill

The band were playing Radio head

And sounding kind of shrill

And the heat of the coals was scolding

And the sausages sizzled and fried

And the fat burnt down into the fire

Like from a burnt sacrifice

Who are the Gods you worship?

I asked after a while

But they turned to me and pointed to false idols

Standing in a magazine Style

Kournety Love, and Kurt Cobain,

And garage and of grunge

And all those Pops stars who made their names

After taking somekind of plunge

But they were never fake I said

Never plastic, though man made

They were the real thing like a choir that sings

Carols on Christmas Day

But in their expression I could see no understanding there

Their faces were taut like tennis rackets brought

Down on the ball to bear

Hard and like a lion

Rearranged like a puzzle

Lumps that began to shift

As a harness around a dog's muzzle

You see the plastic surgeon's bbq had begun

To destroy his own wax works,

And slowly they were all melting

As a candle does in a church

And the next time I turned they had become

Just pools of melting silcone

With some bones, that shone alone

Which attracted the dog's attention

And the plastic surgeon was on his knees

Thinking of his own destruction

And how would his customers ever pay the bills

On their own reconstruction

Never speak of this he said

For this is a tale of the living dead

Who wished for correction on what was fed them

Through false images on internet or television

That pool there was an instagram influencer

And her over there was a lottery winner

And he was a fat cat who wanted to be thinner

But it was all to no avail

For this is living dead told in a moral tale

Don't get too close to the flame

For like the moth you will

Burn

See their ashes and you'll learn

The true price of celebrity's fame

I asked him if the sausages were burnt

He put them in a bap and I said haven't you learnt

You need health and safety at an event like this

He said his fire officer had fallen off a cliff

I said what a faux par, no he was driving a car

And he was a crash test dummy

I said is everyone around you fake today?

Well I thought it couldn't hurt it was my own birthday

I invited them here and now here they'll stay

Buried under the patio

Well at that I decided to take my leave

He told me not to wear my heart on my sleeve

I said it was in the right place and he

Offered me some plastic surgery

Memoirs of a hermit -26thSept 2021

 I went for a walk in the park

On a Sunday morning

On the way back a pigeon  flew into a car

It was flapping around on the road

So I picked it up

And lay it next to the hedge on some straw

In its death throes

It opened its mouth

and contorted and looked at the sky

Back home I talked about Harry Potter with a Japanese student

Then a different student was drunk so I cancelled the lesson

I went to church in Shepton Mallet

Talked with Sami a Japanese lady 

About the congregation and the drummer

Who had a learning disability

Then a Pigeon flew into the Church in the middle

Of a sermon about storms on the sea of Galleli

And how Jesus calmed the storm

And was a sleep while all the fishermen panicked

And he said quiet

The Vicar pronounced the word loudly as 

The pigeon flapped in the rafters

Then came to a stop in the children's cresh

I moved over to catch it and set it free

But it flew up again

The Vicar said

and Jesus said the mind boggles

I felt embarassed at the distraction I had exacerbated

By my attempt at capture

And left the church

I drove to Great Breech wood

In order to find the Sedgmoor volunteers

But was late and couldn't find them

After two hours of wandering

I sat down on New Hill and ate some lunch

I saw an Asian Wasp

Or a murder hornet

Got caught up in some gorse and brambles

Then walked back to the car.

The travelling soul

In the hotel lobby, down the old country road

They say how are you Bobby? Be gone by the time the cock crows

 Well travelling is my hobby, by them it's well knowed

For it's alright by me, I have no fixed abode

No fixed, no fixed, no fixed abode

Through this old lobby, where the cold wind blows

I'm not searchin' for diamonds, not searchin' for gold

I have no place to hide them, I have no fixed abode

There's a sign in the night stars, my true path I am showed

To listen to night jars that sing in hedgerows

And if what they sing of is iron bars which the caged bird knows

Well I'd rather breathe the free air and have no fixed abode

I hear them calling softly, down the old country road

They call to me often, where the sweet waters flowed

Where the lakes are like mirrors, and the sky is rain-bowed

And the shadows of my mistakes, they weigh a lighter load

For in the give and the take, they leave me no fixed abode

No fixed, no fixed, no fixed abode

I walk past my old college, where my friends and I strode

It's a path I walked often down a long memory road

And I look to them for answers, but now they speak a foreign code

They say the past's walls are like a prison, instead try livin' 

at no fixed abode

no fixed, no fixed, no fixed abode

It's a house on the hill, It's an mirage I am told 

But in its pursuit I am willing to give up pieces of gold

For all things time touches, it will bring into its fold

Like the beggar on wooden crutches who has no fixed abode

But the beggar is still a king, so long as promises aren't sold

And the king is but beggar if his dreams are only of gold

It's the place that time kills, but its road will lead to hell

I don't know if it be God's will to keep me sheltered well

But in my heart I am still, though its beating does tell

That I am afraid still to have no fixed abode

no fixed, no fixed, no fixed abode

It's a face in the crowd, and a case in a court

Yes it's a man who once was proud, but now amounts to nought

It's a bitter taste in the mouth, after drinking sea salt

Its a soul in a river, washed out to sea

So he must be a sailor or King fisher, or else all a quiver he will be

He'll get the sea sickness, and he'll long for his home

But that would be a wickedness, for there is none, he's all alone

He has no fixed, no fixed, no fixed abode

They say yes he was one I once knew well, now time's have past

And it's like looking down a well

And I look for my future but only hear my own echo

Calling don't put away your suitcase for you'll have no fixed abode

no fixed, no fixed,

No fixed abode

The address where I leave my hat

Is at no fixed abode

No light to guide me, but the light of the road

The address that I live at, is no fixed abode

No fixed, no fixed, no fixed abode

The home where I'm living

Is named No fixed abode

I go where I'm getting,

And I get there alone

No two cents to rub together

There's no blood from the stone

If you take what I'm giving

Then you'll get what you're owed

Just come and find me

I'll be at no fixed abode

No fixed, no fixed, no fixed abode

I'll meet you at the sign posts upon the crossroads

You go your way as I heard the cock thrice crowed

I'm going my way in the direction of no fixed abode

Now Jesus was a traveller, at least that's what I'm told

He walked many miles down the line which he toed

And there were few that followed him, but some who he rowed

Then he walked upon the water but had no fixed abode

Is it better to be travelling, than that you should arrive?

Well the way is unravelling, but I'm still alive

And I'll get where I'm going, in the end I'll get what I'm owed

When you see the rainbow glowing,  at no fixed abode

No fixed, no fixed, no fixed abode

Will you buy what I'm selling?, well they call it paradise

And there is no there telling you, open your eyes

For the train is at the station, and so you better climb aboard

But you'll never reach your destination, at no fixed abode

At no fixed, no fixed, no fixed abode

The mountains are rising, like suns in your eyes

And I see by your story, that hard travelling has its price

But we'll know in the glory that the road will entice

So be where you are going at no fixed abode

no fixed, no fixed, no fixed abode

A million lives

 I've lived a million lives

I've come and gone

over fires and coals

And my feet have moved swiftly along

As deep sea shoals

I've lived a million lives that's me

I've been to Burundi

And Margate on sea

I've sold the souls

And I know that nothing is free

And we pay the price

For the lives we lead

I've lived a million lives

And stole a thousand dolls

And sold the drugs kept under rugs

That have wrapped up things for me

I've been sacked and I've been fired

I've been quacked up in midnight choirs

And walked on cracked ice

So I know the price

Of the life I lead

I've lived a million lives

They're like the stars of the sky

Had so many women, been in too many bars

I've jacked cars, and I've jack-knifed

And I've been the jack of hearts

So I can say I know the price

Of living this life

I've lived a million lives

And walked a thousand trails

And each one of them has cost me twice

For each time I win, in another way I fail

And you lose what you had to begin with

If you're a gambler, if you're a thief

But I ask you who is the greater conman

The king or the priest?

Do they both know the price of the lives they lead?

And we each move our pieces across the chess board

The Rook to the Bishop

The Knight to the Pawn

The King and the Queen are mutually torn

But do they each know the price of the life

To which they're born

I've lived a million lives that's me

You don't have to ask me twice

I know not much is free

Except this advice which I impart to thee

Please know the price of the life

You lead

Fan Club

I decided to start a fan club
But only I turned up at the pub
Apparently nobody likes a fan
Half as much as they like a can

So I ordered half a pint
And sat there thinking half the night
Of why it was no one likes fans
Instead they prefer driving white vans

I asked the man on the bar stool
Do you like a hand powered tool?
One that will keep you cool at night
He thought that I wanted some kind of fight

Next I said to the bar tender
How about you my great pretender?
Do you like it when the arms swing round
He merely passed behind the glasses making little sound

That I thought was just typical
You try to have a conversation about something quite topical
And they get the impression you are a fool
When really what I am on about they learnt about in school

A fan club as I see it,
Is made up of fans
There needs to be more than one of them
To come up with any plans

Of course who needs a fan in winter?
No one I hear you cry
The weather does for us
What the fan would try
Even in a tropic storm
Or in a Hurricane
The wind is blowing (often warm)
And sometimes there is rain
Does one need a fan then
No of course not said I
But before the Invention of the fan
all we had was wind and sky

After my brief reverie
My mind returned to the bar
It was hot, and the men were sweltering
Outside on the road was sticky tar

What I think we all need now
I said to my companions with a smile
Is a machine that blows cool air
And it takes off the heat for a while

Now they started to agree
And I saw the nodding heads
Then I just reiterated what I before had said
This is the time of the fan
So who is with me gentlemen?
The men stood up, and raised their cups
Said to the fan building station

And so we filed out the pub
The bar tender included -
Whether he left his grub, I have not concluded
And we walked to my garden shed
Of the community allotment hub

Getting out bamboo and tools
We began to build a fan
At first it looked like a wind mill
And was too gigantic in size
Next we dismissed that idea
For our Mk 2 version realized

It was your average 2 meter armed affair
The radial distance being sufficient
To give a good blast of air
How we thought would it now turn?
Since the problem was the lack of wind
Some body who was a cyclist ran off to find
His bicycle

What goes around comes around
So the saying goes
And once we had hooked up his bike
Our medium fan did blow
All it required now was a willing worker
We decided in the pub to take turns
Each half hour

This gave each a break and each some
Little exercise
As it was the process did take
more than a minute but less than nine to five

So thankfully installed now back inside the pub
We each could enjoy the nice cool air
As we supped our beverage or devoured our grub
It was the perfect solution to a hot summer's day
I had found my fan club
And there's the rub - what fans of fans were they?

There was one exception - that is the peddler
He would get too hot poor guy
Til he went pink as a pig in a pig sty
We had to rescue him with another fan
Madam Butterfly

Pilgrim part II

I'm absolutely sure about the direction I'm moving
I don't doubt anymore
I'm straight as an arrow
As true as a bird
Its as clear as the marrow
Bound like somebody's word
The promises are kept
I can rely on someone
All the corners are swept
Nothing's left undone
And I can be sure
That I've won
In the lottery of life
My sun has shone
There's a truth I'm revealing
A covered up door
Some secret I've been concealing
But not anymore
I can be brave, I can be true
There's a life I can save
Its made for you
So come on to the wave
Its breaking on the shore
The moon pulls the tide
Like it always did before
And I can abide
In you I can trust
With God on my side
Nothing I do will rust
There's a gold vein inside
I tap to make sure
That its the treasure that I hide
That its heart is pure
So I'm absolutely convinced
There's no doubt in my mind
That the things that we are
Are all the things that I find

Hog weed a cautionary tale

Hogweed, snogweed
Everybody bog bleed
This way that way
Everybody making hay
But don't strim it
Don't you even try to skim it
All I have to say is that
Brush cutters make Hog weed go splat!

All I have to say is that
Brush cutters make Hog weed go splat!

This weed, that weed, everywhere a Hog weed
snort out truffle, get your feathers in a ruffle
Pig nut, pig root, Pig iron, pig boot
All I have to say is that
Brush cutters make Hog weed go splat!

Ham plant, bacon rind, 

Squealing herb, make you go blind

Trotter hoof, so aloof

Big leaf, Pig belief

All I have to say is that
Brush cutters make Hog weed go splat!

Pigs might fly, so you say
If they do stay away
They touch your skin, it's a sin
White death burning thing
All I have to say is that
Brush cutters make Hog weed go splat!

Curly tails, mind the snail,
Avoid the elder, like the plague
Witches broom, witches tree
Pig on a broom don't be silly
All I have to say is that
Brush cutters make Hog weed go splat!

White spot, Sun spot,
Blisters burst, and hurt a lot
Itchy arm, itchy neck
Catch that hog, make an arrest
Call the pigs, on second thoughts
Do the test - does it snort?
If it does stay away,
Or send him to market down the motorway
All I have to say is that
Brush cutters make Hog weed go splat!

Hair of the Dog

I badgered a rabbit
Who was rabbiting on
He was dogging a hare
Whose hair had all gone
But he took the hair of the dog
When he sang his swan song
I soon met an otter who was beavering away
He was playing in the reeds
While I was reading a play
And an owl was hooting
Calling to his mate
His mate was shooting
Pellets at a plate
And the Platypus lay
Asleep in the hay
Full of nature's platitudes
In a latitudinal way



I went on a speed date with a ray of light
She was fast and loose
And waved me good night
But in a particle way so she had an excuse

Approaching the speed of light
It became horribly obtuse
As if all my energy were matter
Time itself seemed to slow to a stop
My mental processes worked with the speed of a mop
I think my impression not a good one
My mind in confusion
And like Icarus
I never had
The Sun on the run

Two crash test dummies were on a speed date
It was important they broke the speed limit
When they broke the ice
Unfortunately, she broke her neck
And he lost his eyes
But he thought, what the heck!
Another date tomorrow night?
She just played dum
By which she meant - Why not Hun?
You only live twice.

The Painter

The Painter

He was a crazy painter

Making crazy paving of the pavements

He painted crazy brushstokes

Of the crazy government

Who left him empty pockets

In his crazy pants

He filled his hands with bristling brushes

Like the mazy rushes of his random rants

The Lazy Lazarus street which lays half dead

At his feet,

He brings back to life with his dancing soles

His shoeless taps that run through his pictures

And drain his paints are the street’s life blood

He wandered the zodiac circles around the platz

Meeting bears abating, Dogs who were a mating

And bulls dancing on their heels

Archers hunting ghosts

He drew looks from city goers

Painted their eyes like diamond stars

Stuffy old ladies in thatched hats

Whose opinions he dissolved into

Linseed oil and turpentine jars

Their prejudice like jaundice

Yellows their features

Whose roots were in the bitterness

Over beauty they had lost

He gave them it back in his pictures

And all was beautiful again

On Lazarus street

As he walked there

leaving his frames in the square

Resting on the shoe trodden floor

Under foot his masterpieces

Are obscured