Ten cents

 It was a ten cent city

Hell bent on destruction

The lip of the pin down alls the hair

It was a tent city

A city of resurrection

And skirts that lifted churches

Up from the shadows of dispair

It was a pauper's paradise

A gold digger's salvation

At the corporate price

Of little sanitation

And they sold their wares

Just as long as their stares

On a field of nothing

And a hiding to nowhere

Twin town 3

 I can give you sunrises baby from my bed

And I can give you goat heads

Baby, laying in wastelands of the dead

And we can be friends baby in the Sci Fi store

Full of magazines I have seen but never read

And I can be your target baby when you need to shoot someone

I can be in your crosshairs baby and you can kill me 

With your crossbones

And I am walking backwards through the door of our love

Because I know it is time to say goodbye

And shortly on the sorrowful shore

I can see my ship is leaving

With the animals

Two by two we go up the steps into the dark ark

Of consciousness and sail upon the seas

Seas of love

That flood that land

But on board the lions are roaring and the monkeys howl

And the mates are bellowing on their horns

The wild wind is blowing us to a foreign shore

And I know that we must make land

Is twin town just a figment of my imagination

Or a sacred geometry of time

That too many flutes and cut throat guitar strings

Have told me of in dreams

With Hyenas and national parks

Like Noah's ark did we ever make it

Out of the ballpark

Or far from the dark?

Into Twin town

Twin town 4

 The dive bombers are dropping bombs all around and

The shattered land lies in pieces

Of Golgotha's cousin

And seeds are blown from the dandilions

Who roar at the daisies working on the chain gang

And the flower slaves are raving and splashing

With sirens and mermaids in the shallows 

Where our ark hits the breakers of the coral island

Is this false limb the true twin town I ask

And you are like Moses and plant your staff

And stake your claim in tomorrow's garden

Where the gypsies rob

Water from the gutters of the houses of God

And I say all this lighted lanterns of concern

And the burning effigies are not real

On Christmas Day or a Midsummer's Eve

I say run at the height of the festival's plan

Run away from the clan

Back to the seas

Back to our Ark

Back where the sailors are fighting with sharks

And the rough hands of God,

And horses rough shod

Are trampling firmly upon the iron rod

As a Tempest weaves around ruined Castle walls

And standing stones have belly aches from all the prayers they've received

Our ship pushes out away from the false land

Where Caliban is still howling like a banshee from the shore

And Queen Mary is in the tower

Writing her victory score

For Marguerite

All the places I travel to
Time is free at no cost
Ashton - from ashes to ashes
To the poet's wood (Audenshaw)
Where Auden talked with Bernard Shaw
Even the weavers wove their web
In Droylsden where waters ebb
Then flow into the miller's dough
of Milnrow
Thrashing at the fresh hay of Newhey
A deer stalker passed by the way of Derker
And a freeman took his land in Freehold
Who knows why you'd risk your success in Failsworth?
Newton Heath and Moston are the best towns to get lost in
In Monsall, they sell moon rock on a Sunday morning
In Crumpsall they can buy it back again out of season

Of course you can get your arrows fletched
And your bowstring stretched
in Bowker vale
And some pom-pom girls will make you bouquets
In Pomona
If you feel the need to rest a while
Drop anchor in Anchorage
Its a strong foothold for a gentleman suitor
On his way to Ladywell
Where the finest dames are known by name
To wash their hair
And chambermaids collect their buckets of water

Be careful of the Vikings who invaded long ago
We paid their levees like their toll
When we travelled on the Dane Road
And the wives of Stretford are hoiking up their britches
As they cross the waters
Tip-toeing to Timperley

The summer birds are nesting in the eves of Martinscroft
Because the green leaves grow in the withies of Wythenshaw

And everybody knows a rolling stone
Gathers no moss
It only feels its loss
When it stops
In the shade of shadow moss

Bridgwater in the rain

I remember in bridgwater
road in the rain
All those bloody traffic jams
All those

I remember bridgwater in the rain
And the roads that flowed
Out
The forests on the verge
That never emerge
From the corners
Of your blinkered vision

I remember the turns
And the dips in the road
Of the little old track
That ran
Down past the willows
Down past the the peat centre
And the Marshes that lay
Asleep in our hands

Do they still run,
Do the rivers still flow
The way I remember them in my youth
Do the roads still subside
And dip and dive
Do those same Peat tractors
Still pull their black load?
I suppose
They do

But what if its changed
If the falling rain
Has washed all foot prints away?
What of the people, their voices
Their triumphs
What if their hearts couldn't stay?
What then for my hopes of returning
What then for the time of a life
that's kept burning?
What if the jack knifed
Lorry is blocking the road
And the hearts blood is pumping
Its heavy load
And its blood is black with the peat
That its knowed
And the rain washes all this blackness
Away, away

Yara, yara Shepton Mallet

Yara, Kingsland, on the escapade
Through the knuckled arches
Of the walled arcade
Munching on the Myrtle of a Thrush
in pale pose

Purring in the nettles
Cooking on the rose
Succoured and suckled,
Adroit to unknown sun
In the French dressed Troubadour
Letting off steam
Sheep in folds
Folder deep
In the paper leafed field

Roman numerals of chicken runs
Pertinent permanence of setting suns
Leaving behind like nuns
Of to find a wedding