Go....?

 It goes without going

It says without saying

It means many things

Like I’ve had enough

Or stop

Or start

It’s a kind of art

It is, it’s on, it’s off

The chart

I can bring it on a tray

It’s how I feel when I’ve too much to say

But can’t

Sometimes I feel I’m going to

But it’s the thinnest membrane

It’s always after something gives out

It never really gives in

It’s an excess of nothing

And something to begin

So don’t put your hip out

Or you’ll need to shout

Weasels do it

Pringles do it

Even the blisters

Of measles and shingles do it

Let's do it

Let's go......?..........apart

Frankenstein my father

 Frankenstein was my father

Mary Shelley was my mother

My household was unstable

I grew up on the operating table

It was a long lost book of childhood dreams

I wish to know better what it all means

He told me when I was one day old

I'd be one hell of a fella

A big strapping boy like you

is gonna knock the world out I tell ya

And my mother looked on me with some sympathy

but loathing 

I tell you all I wanted was her love

But she scathingly threw me rags for clothing

I learned to ride a bike and ski in the Alps

Albeit because my loving father had decided to kick me out

I mean I found out that after my mother had died 

he'd engaged another woman who was gonna be his bride

But you see to him, I was his greatest disappointment

He thought he'd created me in his image

But it was a distorted disillusionment 

My father, my father was God he said

And I have to ask: am I human, living or dead?

If I am just parts, am I greater than their sum

And if I'm not a machine, then a human how come

Society rejects me, my own father baulks

I scare children in the park 

even the mirrors shatter when I talk

I am a hideous abomination, no love have I

Then what can a monster do but take revenge or die?

Dear Neighbour

Dear Neighbour

I'd like to express

My deepest condolences

For your thoughtlessness

It must be hard to be such an insufferable sod

I hadn't realized that I was living next door to God

Well you must be him or else why would you act like that

With impunity as if your actions carried no consequence

You are up all night, it's driving me crazy

Do you never need to work at all?

You must be driving Miss Daisy

round the bend, 

But look, let's make friends

the good book tells us

We must love our neighbours

So I say I love you X

Even though you are a pain in the neck

And think you are a great singer when you are really not all that

Believe me I've heard you in your kitchen

It sounds like you're strangling a cat

 And about you playing guitar at 3 am

Yes I can hear it and ahem

It woke me up and spoilt the rest of my day

In that it tinged my consciousness

And jangled my nerves and left them frayed

But I was nearly forced to cause an affray

So please let's not rehearse each night the last judgement day

Let's try and respect our differences

We cannot change each others' ways

It going to lead nowhere except entrenched positions

And fighting on all fronts

and really I'd rather make hay

While the sunshines

Than sleep in all day

For the night is meant for sleeping

Not your guitar play 

Broken down

 It's all broken down

It's all breaking down

From my toes to my crown

I'm all broken down

From my face to my eyes

I'm breaking like ice

Oh it's all broken down

What a surprise!

Cry baby, cry !

But don't break the china doll

Breaking, broke, all broken

Just mind you've not broken the mould

Pull all the pieces together

The debris of a crumbling tower

And build up Babylon brick by brick

feather by falling feather

Collect up the seeds that were scattered

Draw tight the strings of the purse

Close up the wound that was open

It's not yet time to call the nurse

All these things that were broken

Mend them and bring to repair

The shattered mirrors as a token

Of a lifetime of visual despair

But nothing that is gone is truly forgotten

Always its embers still glow in the air

No matter how lowly the ashes

From its cinders can grow a new care

People of Croscombe

 People from Croscombe

They barter and they bite

Just like Romans in an amphitheatre tonight

Oh people from Croscombe

They'd sell their grandmother's teeth

And still get a second estimate

For their own financial relief

Now I'm not saying people from Croscombe

Are cheap, it's just that they're mean

And will scramble round for every pound

And penny, even raid the wishing well

But that's just what comes from living in a dell

Like Croscombe

People from Croscombe

They strain for the Sun, because you see they never 

Really get it, they have to strain their necks at it

And they grow tall and thin like Sun flowers

People from Croscombe are heliotropes

They clamber over their neighbours' walls

They're so tightly packed like cattle in stalls

And have no greater pleasure than to bicker

Or discuss their neighbour's lives

There's nothing more satisfying than

Chit chat with the promise of knives

And vengeance is a dish best served cold

They've learnt that from living in some other metropole

Like London or Bristol any number you care to mention

But they've never forgotten their just desserts

Revenge for what was meted out to them by extension

And now they're in the bear pit, in the colosseum

They can watch their neighbours getting eaten alive by lions

Or they can bet on gladiators

For once they heard about a place called Rome

That there was some foreign power better

And they'll pay their tax and all

Be so tactical until their Emperor 

summons their services by letter

And then they'll dob in their neighbours 

For traitors

People in Croscombe, but that's only what

I've heard of them

I don't tend to think of them

Very much at all

They just ask me for an estimate

I say I'll see you at four

Then they want a quotation

I recite shakespeare 

When that doesn't satisfy

I try Mark Antony and Cleopatra

Then they get offended and say

 I only try to flatter

Oh I can't seem to gather

What the people of Croscombe

want at all

stormy night

 There's a baby crying in the storm

Crying save me Mama, I'm tired of being born

What is there in this whole world

Worth saving?

There's a man knowing,

Maybe thinking too much

Holding his woman

Away from his touch

Because, well the  half world is

Starving

And the storm blows on

And the baby's still crying

On a dark wet street

Where the mother is trying

To give it comfort and heat

And she tells it hush, don't cry

This world is dying

In these ruins you are lying

But you'll grow strong 

one day it won't be long

You'll build this world again

You'll do a better job than I

But I tried

And the storm blows on

And another baby, in a another town

is born  

The Hurricane's day off

 The Hurricane's day off

Oh take a day off won't you?

Stop blowing, I'm tired of hearing your moaning

The Hurricane rested with a pina colada

Down in Bermuda or in the Bahamas

Brahms wrote his Hungarian dances

All the jiggling ceased

The palm trees stopped waving in the dusk

The wild boars slept in the forests

I throw out my feelings in disgust

The Hurricane blew in gusts

Almost perspiring

Just smoking

Like an iguana

Lazy lizard lounge

Hurricane took a day off

To lie in the ocean sun