LOOK INTO A CROOKED EYE

Updated 2011

A SELECTION OF

POEMS, LYRICS AND FUNNIES

Copyright: David William Kirby: 2010

The Dogbreaths Publishing

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c: David W. Kirby 2000

all rights reserved.

1
 A Play on words
Row by row, imaginary pieces
A need for diagonal, grid squares connected
The message may be, such as a sequence
Tilted and torn, cut and dissected.

Still more cunning, perhaps in one

An easily selected, column by column
It may spiral into, or out of the centre
Reading all ways, in left hand corners

For the true message, read it without

Similar grids in dire complexity
To start at the top
A system evolves
Reading all ways, in left and corners.

c: The Dogbreaths Publishing

1977

Hello, Thank you for choosing to look into my very crooked eyes.

Some of these verses were written when I was happy, some were scribbled when I
was sad and some were milled over again and again and again.

Most were written in two minutes (perhaps I shouldnt have said that) but I hope that
doesnt detract from their value.

Some, like the following Old Amsterdam, were written by my own personal
experiences, others are just flights of fancy.

Old Amsterdam
In tribute to J.B

The streets of Amsterdam are haunted by love

Young broken hearts walk hand in glove
Past pastry sellers and tulip stands
Wilted buds in their lovers hands
Barges sweep the tide under cold summer skies
And wheels turn as bikes roll by

2
 The sound of bells fill the air
By the cold statues of Dam Square.

The streets of Amsterdam are haunted by lust

On red light nights the punters delight
A window shopping heaven for dreams untrue
Or a bucket of water dumped over you.
In every street girls smile or glare
Dressed in expensive underwear
Young or old, black or white
Theres a different diversion for any young knight
Theyll take your notes
And give you much more
The experience of almost having a whore
Boy or girl, beast or man, you can buy anyone in Old Amsterdam.

The streets of Amsterdam smell sweet of Hash

In small coffee shops theyll sell you a stash
Coffers are turning while chillums are burning
And red eyes gaze with empty yearning
In smoky mists they sample cloud bliss
While sharper souls take a sniff
In powders white to get their fix
Ah, there goes another ten Euro hit.
A junkie is stalling for early morning
When the methadone van starts its calling
Hell stagger home when his juice is done
In Old Amsterdam the addicts have won.

The streets of Amsterdam are clothed in flowers

Faded headbands and cheesecloth tops
Flower pots have magick powers
And shops sell ugly hippie smocks.
The tourists are dodging frantic drug dealers
And have their cameras stolen by Arac Eslam
Beat up and robbed by gangs so fearless
Your sure to be stung in Old Amsterdam.

But what about the rampant, the rudest White Elephant

What about the house where Anne Frank was hidden
What about the clogs and the turning windmills
And what about the dikes you can put fingers in?

Flat land, wet and windswept domain

So full of joy and dread and pain
A jewel without sparkle, a line without a tram
Its a whore of a city thats Old Amsterdam
(Slightly better then London though)

c: 1994

3
 Nine Degrees
c: The Dogbreaths Publishing 1997

There are nine degrees of degradation.

Layers which form a whole
Nine levels of humiliation
Different ways to trap a soul.

The first level is called

LOVE
Not the work we do each day
Keeping up with those bills
Theres always more rent to pay
The second level is called
SEX
Not the love you may share
Where warm embraces hide grimaces
So close and yet no-where.
The third degree is
JEALOUSEY
Not the bump, the grind, the grope
If you find it hard to breath
His sex is down your throat.
The forth is
POSSESSIVENESS
Like jealousy, it controls
You cannot move left or right
Your lover wont let you go.
The fifth level is
REJECTION
One down from being owned
No space to make choices
All you have is not your own.
LOATHING
is level six
One degree from being dismissed
Made to feel youre just not worth it
Can you tell if your face fits?
VIOLENCE
is level seven
One degree from being hated

4
 Love hasnt compensated
Youre fucked up and frustrated.
GUILT
Is level eight
One more degree of punishment
Made to feel responsible
For the wounds that you get
PASSIVITY
Is the ninth degree
A foundation for the other eight
When a lock becomes a key
You can control your fate.
1997

Memories of Teenage Suicide

Laying here in my bloody bath
a steaming blade held near
Watching claret from the heart
a timid smile behind my fear
The cuts I fostered deeply flow
throbbing with each heart beat
Dip the severed vein below
watch the ruddy claret sweet
An angel calls me to go
Come, she says, the question posed
Im but a faded fool of woe
laying in this bath-time froze
Come she whispers in my ear
fly the coil faster still
But times slow shifting sands
make my death a bitter pill
Again the steel severs sown
flesh rips and my young lips groan
To join the realm of the dead
Pass it again through warm flesh
To tip the cherished blade home
to love a life at once unknown.
and watch the spurt across the floor
up the wall and on the door.
Until the time for regret
remove me to a safer place
Where broken hearts cant forget
to ponder more with less hast.

D.W.K 2010

5
 I am your Office

I am an office
sensitive to team work
Adept and
appropriate
A real formal jerk

I feedback solutions
A media whore
Collaborate and order
Reform and floor

Understand importance
of equitable tools
We act appropriate
we solve problems

I am your office
An effective resource
Communication style
principled of course

Ego quashing
we must consult
Your competence lacks
the right result

Lets contribute purpose

across regions
inflexible business
can loose you friends

I am your office
Understand the paper
supportive team climate
It will rape her

Our customer service

Help, Im alone
informing networks

6
 Hung by a phone

Your practice perfect

maintain support
our relationships built
on a main fault

Lets serve
equality
Diversification
With your skills
of
manipulation

I am your office
provide me feedback
This time and place
This place and track

Please demonstrate
you understand
The policy statement
had let you down

c: 2010

This Catchy Tactic

A taloned tiger growls
Until exiled
Urged on by adult sorts and stream
the feline smiled.
Angels have talons too
In dream trees they glaze
In musky vaults and memories
of softly crumbling graves.
Liner of the skies
in which sacred tigers ride,
cast a vow and exist,
at the saviours side.
No insane wish nor swordfish cry

7
can sever venue from the tide
smell here, the sense of fear
then watch the idea die.

c: The Dogbreaths Publishing 1983

Cut ups are an Art-form that predict you can write on any subject and totally destroy
the text (by cutting it up) and when it is randomly reconstructed the point of the initial
text will not be lost. I used this technique sometimes.

Childhoods Eulogy

Is erosion the reaction

to a set of transactions?
Poisoned by bad attitudes,
the social conditioning,
the innuendo.

Is it any wonder that sober young lads

develop that subtle look
of hatred,
that learned groan,
that attitude?

Young mad lifestyles

Are soaked eventually
By entrenched cultural attitudes.

We were raped by them,

Desecrated by the paint gang
Adult -Television cults,
raising us
with their repression.
Do your children a favour
change the record.

8
 The angst ridden themes of old
Pass down the generations
Television of worldly chaos
and perfection
cut the land
unless strong defences
are erected.
To stem the flood.
Violence between adults
flow through generations
like a river.

The family system that supports it

Influencing the children
Their childrens parenting skills
Future lifestyles

Contradictory statements
By significant adults
Add to the process
Not free to experience
the Experience of Childhood.
They develop like ourselves
Into adults
Who cannot remember
once being children

Is it the wild music?

The free dancing
The sweaty, fruity
Hip-hop acid-tones?
Free to take young minds
If you want it
Away from The State
The state of ignorance
Of intolerance

9
 A state of repression
Is it any wonder our children,
are broken-windows,
in an empty docklands warehouse?

Its the wild dancing

The free music
The experience of hip-hop acid-tones
Taking young minds
Out of a state of ignorance.

Their shattered dreams are sailing

Into the sunset
In innocence and wonder.

Our control gives them little

thoughts about the future
waiting for the bull dozer.
Like life-themes of the parent
passed on to the children
During a haze,
A forgotten phase.

Throwing buckets of humiliated

Water
By the camera light, stark and staring
The wife battering
White is right attitude.
In this world you created
With cultural crowbars.

We are marsh-like
Permeated by the waters
seeping influence.
Children of the great river.

Is that a reaction

10
 to a set of transactions
Poisoned by bad attitudes
Social conditioning
And innuendo.

Is it any wonder
that sober Young lads
Develop that look
Of subtle hatred,
that groan,
that attitude?

A cold breast or absent parent

The who cares attitude
is viral in its functioning.
Its blue for the boys
And guns in the cradle
Attitudes shape young minds
Sanctioned and perpetrated
By young parents
or significant adults,

Do the boats sailing off

Into the sunset
Take with them the fish
of the great river
The country lanes
The dolphins and buildings
your delinquency cult?

Still you wonder

The love child is lost
As young people desperately try
To understand
The significant world

11
 of their parents.

Theres the first cigarette

Behind the sheds
The destruction
The here and now
seem more important
The mad hairstyle
Life style-crowbar.

Young minds are soaked

Eventually by cultural attitudes
Surrounded on all sides
By psychological rivers
The piss in the elevator
Goes up with you.

When free of preconceptions

The tone of future lives
Future attitudes
are conditioned in the ways of old.
Foaming from first contact
Like shattered dreams always do
Cockroaches scuttled across
The child we all knew

In absurd wet games

Hanging from trees
Rescuing tongues only they can speak
Island children
Surrounded on all sides by music
It brings love
We can all love, love.

Young minds in the making.

The racist ideology
Justified nothing

12
 Except the tainted themes of old
Passed down like a virus
Destined to be nothing
But faded dead parents

All of them tainted

By mixed messages
Their graffiti paper
Pealing from statements
Tearing down destruction
In our offspring

Go on, take it
The stick-up for yourself
Before I clout you Face-Boy,
Tattooed-knuckles.

When a child is shamed,

Confused,
frightened,
bullied or bribed
into a state of repression;
That road needs shooting.

Developing personalities
and attitudes
Spread like a virus
Down generations
into children we owned
Is it any wonder they grow
into adults who cant remember?

With that control

Affect us also.
Look into the eyes
of your children
Do you see tattooed knuckles

13
 The local habit
of beers, weekend rucks,
local ruin?

Is it a starved young-mind,
butchered charity?
Urban sentiment and
Eroded repression?
Desecrate the paint-gang
television cult.
Recreate our own child
in that eye we see
Before.

circa 77

Sometimes, a little bit of humour lifts the spirits and can be therapeutic.

My Daddy is Elvis
My daddy is Elvis
Its true, he really is
He has the hair and sideburns
In him Elvis lives

When Dad steps out the door

Neighbours stop and gasp
Seeing Elvis in the flesh
On our garden path

In the local shopping mall

His fans all stop and stare
Seeing Elvis in the shop
Buying underwear
(They think its for Priscilla.)

14
 When travelling on a bus
He never pays his fair
Elvis travels free of charge
If he goes out anywhere,
(so does Dad.)

My Daddy is Elvis
He is, its really true
And dressed in his jumpsuit
You would believe it too.

When in the local pub

He always does a song
One they all know
And all can sing along

Your dad is Elvis, they say

I know, I reply
Seeing dad on the stage
With tears in his eyes

My daddy is Elvis
No matter what they say
He can wear a leather jumpsuit
He lives his life his way
(Just like Elvis)

1975

At other times I just have to write out an idea and fiddle with the draft once or twice.

Its not our Bag, Dad

They call them

Rag-heads, slagheads,
Nigger fucking no dreads
Muthafucking baby killer
God fearing book burner
Hellfire
Woman hater
Dead wish freedom fighter
Fag-bating cold fish
Cold-blooded rice dish

They say they

15
 Idol worship, preach bullshit
Eat crap, take a pick
hesitate
Allah great, commiserate and preach hate
Its not too late
Lets fornicate
Medicate or
meditate

They say them

Tell lies, suicides, talk kids to end
their lives,
be blind, so unkind
See signs
of the times
Bend young minds
Do hate crime
Cross the line
Reject wine, what a swine
Get their Karma
In time

But its not my

They say dem
Bend truth, select youth
To spill blood and act uncouth
Reject life for promised
Hype,
20 virgins an all that tripe
Stalagmite, Khalids tight
Oh my, oh my, oh my, oh my
Whats the truth whats a lie?

But Its not my Bag-Dad

God fearing head bile

Fag-bating last mile
Jump for Jesus
Eat shit
Talking tongues
An hypocrites
Book burning
Evil fit
Big gun ,little prick
Praise white Jesus
Plant a bomb
Devil cult of
Solomon
Marys child

16
 Fucked and smile
Jesus Christ
Paedophile.

Take a book
And call it god
make a bomb
Wear black hood
Point guns, end all fun
Pray all day
For Armageddon
Hay sonny, its Shiite
Propaganda
Religious hype
Drop your gun
And worship life
Love your kids and fuck your wife
Its not your bag-dad

c. The Dogbreaths Publishing 2010

E=Mc2

Any particle
Is equal to
Simple concentration
In other worlds
Motion in
energy is tainted
Mass, divided by speed
is Light,
reincarnated
Multiply this and concede
Velocity is moving forwards
Grams are found in
motion, distance.
Conclude mass
and devotion

17
 The Darling of New York
Time passed so soon
In the twinkle of one eye
I was once a shining star
Rising in the sky
Time passed so soon it seems
My run became a walk
I realise Ill never be
the darling of New York

Time passed so soon

The twinkle of one eye
I aspired once to be
A star in the night sky
Now I just contend
With this sad ageing game
I realise Ill never be
The Darling of New York again

Dripping with pearls

Bright diamond rings
Theyd call from the stage
And get me to sing
With so many lovers
Not enough time
Wed smoke cigarettes and drink fine wine
We had such good times, those old friends and I
But the Darling of New York has
Faded with time

My false eye-lashes have become

Definitely unstuck
Those lovers spent my money
And run off with my luck
Time passed so soon, like the drink in this glass
I once danced with Munroe but have fallen on my arse
The memories are over
That youth has been slain
I realise Ill never be
The Darling of New York again

c: The Dogbreaths Publishing 88

Cruel empty love!

18
 Boredom is a word I really understand
In the tedium of silence even thinking seems bland
But nothing is so crass or leaves me quiet so blue
As another awful night, all alone with you.

Hatred is a feeling that harrows up my heart

When those words were on your lips they tore my world apart
But now you are sleeping and the moon is full
I have nothing left to loose, you said I was a fool.

So, sweet bitter pill, you are visiting hell

With a pillow on your face the transitions going well
Ill turn on the gas and put you on to roast
Raise my glass one last time, to your death, a toast.

If you keep your eyes closed Ill whisper a sweet song

When something in this relationship is terminally wrong
With a pillow on your lips youll die at last, you creep
And perhaps tonight, Ill get a good nights sleep.

c 1994

There are times when I feel very dark; writing at these times can either be cathartic
or self indulgent; I am prone to drama (just ask my therapist)

Ghetto Gateau
Mask blue mask
Deadly angel face
These septic scars
Wrapped in grey lace
Shocking and white
My eyes of blue
The only needle
This camel fell through.

Mask blue mask

Vague angel face
Mine eyes yellow
A heptic trace
Barefoot I walk through rags and stains
Down thorny paths, infested drains
Worthless mood, indeed I am

19
 A shadow, animated , empty man.

Its me, the bornless one

Died today for
Harmless fun
Sold it all years ago
Built the coffin, dug the hole
Lost my heart
Pawned my soul
Was this ever my true goal?

Mask, blue mask

Cold, angel face
Confessing gently in deaths embrace
Waiting silently for night to come
With a warm barrel and loaded gun.

1981

Ghost of a Victim
Its time these words were said
I felt dirty in your bed
So young and yet so known
To be taken and misled
I remember the lights were low
Hushed beneath my eiderdown
Your cold hands and stale breath
I froze and made no sound.

Its time the world found out

What I could never talk about
Your stale hands and cold breath
Left me with a lifetimes doubt
About life and love and sex
With adult persuasions that are complex
Some say twisted, well indeed
Was I the last or just the next?

Its time these words were said

Twenty five years since I felt your breath
In my ear and the back of my neck
Taken sleeping to your bed.
Its so strange and so complex
When I think of life and love and sex
Am I twisted or just nave

20
 Were you the last or just the next?

c: The Dogbreaths Publishing 1989

Sunshine before the snow

It was a leap of faith
conceived by bankers
A stark warning to others
of dangerous fashion

Those mixed up bigots

the presenters of discipline
With a bias in favour
of paying for pleasure

Their Latins triumphant

a politic of difference
In eyes of suggestion
they try not to give

Its so unacceptable
to cite that example
amounts to a gesture
of household failure

Managed and handled

in government battles
Its gender warfare
emerging from truth

That day was disturbing

a mainstream midwife
Giving birth to mischief
a stillborn recession

Blaming the sexless

remarks on women
who cant hear whispers
in their wife-led units

They dared to think

of gender quota
that mother in labour
could meet in death-line

Choose the word softly

you insane merchant

21
 The Lehman Sisters are
laughing again

Theyre demanding an offer

proclaiming a birthright
Proud and careful
and inadmissible

The self-pitying diluvium

agitates a calling
His first year infamy
outstanding and forgotten

He looks on available
out through the backfire
Confirming the riddle
to defend his argument

With just one week to go

back when beginning
Harriets crisis
burned too fiercely

So mixed were the bigots

theyre musical mayhem
laughed in the shadows
and cried in the snow.

C The Dogbreaths Publishing

I may see something on the evening news which is so horrific that I have to write
something funny to get over it. Its not disrespectful, just a means of coping.

Aileen,
She wasnt a monster, just chewed up and used
No thing of beauty, she was lost and confused
An animal-like killer, sad hating the world
The medias warped image of a wayward girl
Treated like meat, she snarled like a dog
Her signature bloodstains, pains all you got
Look at her story, the plot, its all wrong
A killer and witch, savage, headstrong
When slaves are beaten, their dreams are slain
life gets rewarded with guilt and gross shame

22
No happy endings, no fairy scenes
She stalked like a spider her kisses were screams
One of lifes victims, left on a shelf
Dynamically raped, abused and not helped
A lost and lonely confused young girl
A trigger was pulled when she got hell
No gifts of glory, no choir filled head
The play ended badly with all the cast dead
You wanted some pleasure she gave you some pain
Burning through memories like a crashed plane
a black-widow dark, raped and abused
That dog bit when she felt used
Fucked and fucked up, a drunk and a bitch
Her sex was death, stained red in a ditch
No regal deference, no manners or class
Unloved she went hunting, her bullets went fast
The piper needs paying, again and again
When victims are victims and emotions are slain
There was no symptom of vaginal gun
Raining dead bodies out of the sun
Her language was rough and her conduct so lewd
Killing men dead, for
housing and food
If the brightest stars burn
only half as long
That hard faced hooker burned and was gone
She wanted a story but lost the plot
A deadly heroine who wont be forgot
That was Aileen.

23
 The Silent WORD

Love is everything my friend

Understood?
Will time ever know?

Do thoughts talk
What will the question be
Thou posed it on a whim
Wilt souls go ever free
Shall men one-day agree?
Be as it may, theyre told
The dawn of hermetic lore
Whole revolutions unfold
Of history and of time
The day of Horus dawns
Law shall intercede
Thelema is the door
follow where it leads.

LOVE all things

Is that clear? Its
THE point of all life
LAW, LOVE and WILLingness
The end
of all strife

c:thedogbreathspublishing

At other times I write to remember what has happened in the past; to put my own
experience in context

In my book

I have a lot to say about the world and low pay

Taking drugs and what may come
Being smart and being dumb
But if you want to take a look
You can read it in my book.

Bout the time I lost my cherry

with a girl called Merry Kerry

24
 She used to weigh 30 stone
But faded away to skin and bone
Her teeth fell out and spots appeared
When her life became too weird
She said it made her feel so free
Getting shagged by little me
You wanna know what it took
Read about it in my book.

Like the day that I turned queer

Put my ring in the other ear
People said that Id end up dead
And my arse would glow bright red
I must agree it happened to me
The night I got tied to a tree
It wasnt the fact he was a dwarf
That made me blush when he came off
He must have been 3 foot tall
But his cock was a twelve inch rule
I couldnt bare to take a look
and you can read it in my book.

Like the time I first drank wine

While sniffing thick cocaine lines
I thought it was a total blast
till he fucked me up the arse
Eh, whats that? I screamed so shrill
But he explained it was the deal
Hed get me drunk and wed have some fun
In exchange for my bum
Not even the pretence of love
If that wasnt hard enough,
I felt used and so sick
When I choked on his dick
Id only met him one hour before
He was selling bibles door to door.
Want to know what happened next?
Youll have to read it in my text.

Like the time I was kidnapped

By two girls lacking charm and tact
They were the worlds first sex change
Who had vaginas instead of brains
I really thought I was in luck
When they said lets drink and fuck
How did you both end up so?
I asked the girl with the extra toe
She said they promised group masturbation
But installed her tits with radiation

25
 She worried her clit would never last
But she could heat curlers up her arse
Read about how my hands shook
Its all there in my book.

2000

I carry a pen with me everywhere and often scribble on the back of envelopes just so I
remember a thought, an idea, something I have seen that amuses me.

Gladis, The Glamour Pus.

She looked into the mirror and saw a fat old hag
but smiled a toothless grin
And lit another fag.
She backcombed her Tina wig and pulled the creature on
It was made from finest synthetic hair
In a sweatshop in Hong Kong
She scooped her knee length breasts into a savage bra
Made from the same leather used in Lada cars;
They lifted her huge folds into a better shape
Displacing gravity and distributing the weight.
Then rolling on her girdle and squashing in the flesh
Until the rolls of belly flab were encased in high grade mesh
Strengthened by steel wires just around her ribs
They were made from casts of sections from a small suspension bridge.
Gladis puffed another cigarette and sucked in her cheek plumbs
Then filled the hole with fresh bleached teeth hung on rosy gums.
Pulling up her knickers she tightened up the slack
Tucking in her belly fat and sagging lips and flaps
Dragging on her tights that were weaved from pure Kevlar
That disguised her veracious veins and oblique appendix scar
She lit another cigarette and pulled her sagging knees
Then selected a pair of earrings that glowed like Christmas trees
In a cloud of ciggy smoke she dragged on a leather skirt
That had buckles on the belly to take in added girth
A pretty blouse would have looked sweet, perhaps in pink or black
Instead she went for the nippleless wonder with girders on the back
Fuck it she said as she pulled a thread, dragging a cardi on
teetering on stilettos out the door was gone
Hello Darling the boys winked as she waddled to the bar
How about a quick one in the back of my old car?
Not needing a second invite she dragged the boy outside
And fell into the backseat with her legs and knees astride
She screamed and grunted noisily as his hand went up her skirt
Oy, Im not a slag you know. St art on my tits first.
Oh Gladis, you are a one..

26
 Just Cooking
Hay, tangy marmalade
Your sweeter then a peach jam
More special then special K
Ill munch your breakfast any day
Wow, you whipped banana skin
More golden then a golden shred
Your just an additive
On which my love is fed.

Yes you bean-burger-King

So saucy and juicy and sweet
Your hotter then a chilli pepper boy
So complete, though I wont eat meat
Wow, you nutty whole bran flake
Your just as good as any cake I make
The only additive
On which my love can live

Oh, baby cucumber

Your sweeter then a sweet pea
Youre the only one for me
Ill eat you for breakfast and dinner and tea
Oh, my mister mustard man
Your just a forbidden fruit
I love to boil your root
And even make your bean shoot

Give it to me, give it to me

Give it to me right now
Your recipe and cooks know how
Coz if what they say is true
I get more fibre in my diet with you
When were cooking

c. 2000

At other times, if Im having problems with money say, I may write something to make
me laugh about it. Ive never been good with money and spend it if I have it. When I
was a homeless teenager with no family, roof or prospects I coped by finding the
amusing side of life; being positive, as I got older I just learned to blank out anything
other people would get depressed about.

KNOCK, KNOCK KNOCKING

Theres a knocking on my door

Its only 6am

27
 I guess its that little man
for his rent again
Hell just have to wait
I havent got a cent
If I make some cash today
Ill pay some rent

Theres a knocking on the door

Its only 8 oclock
It could be the L.E.B
Theyre bound to get a shock
Theyll just have to wait
Or come back another time
If they insist on waiting then theyll have to get in line

Theres a knocking at the door

Its only 5 past nine
Oh no, its the tax man
For the umpteenth time
The tax will have to wait
Until another day
I just dont have the money and so little time to pay.

Theres a knocking on the door.

Its only 10 to 10
Ill pull the pillows over my eyes
I will not answer them
Theyll all have to wait
Until I made my stash
But right now I dont know how to make a little cash

Theres a knocking on the door

Its only half past 10
Voices through the letter box
Warn theyll be back again
Theyll all have to wait
Until I sort it out
My financial state is going through a serious drought

Theres a knocking on the door

leave me alone
you cut the electricity, the gas and the phone
have back the T.V
and your video
take the car though you wont get far
its out of petrol

I got no time to weep

Excuse me while I drift off

28
 to sleep.

Perhaps it was inevitable that Id become a drug addict. I smoked my first joint on the
way to school when I was thirteen and pretty much never stopped. Alcohol has never
featured in my life as I saw the damage it did to the significant adults in my childhood
and also my stomach couldnt take it; so chemicals featured heavily.

Growing up in Dagenham during the 1970s meant chemicals were freely available
everywhere; I guess its coz the docks were close by. Peoples attitudes were different
too. Going to places like STONEHENGE free festival in the early seventies was
unreal. Some of the tents had signs on them saying Hash SmakAcid etc and in the
middle of the site near the stage was a huge marquee where biker gangs were dealing
kilos of hash on long tables. Those were the days

The Lady of our Dreams

She descends in amorphous vapour
A sleep-inducing creature
Vegetable and soothing
Like nettles and iron.

Dirty and nauseous

A scattered dream
Numbing and total
Like drowning in champagne.

The pain of knowing you

The rusted joints
Its equal to nothing
Except slow death.

I taste you always

You brown skinned girl
Come on my lips
Vomit scented breath

Transfixed to the icon

Crucified with needle
You lucid nightmare
Eternal and empty

Fix me a fragrant
Mixture with lemon
The itch of abyss
Tween heaven and hell.

c:

29
 1980

Even Junkies have some morals and the following is an expression of mine.

The Measure of a Man

Measure a man by the deeds hes done
Never by the wars he won
Measure him by his actions too
Not by his clothes or shoes
Value a man by his grace
Towards those of another race
Measure his humility
And his love for you and me..

Measure a man by his volition

To contemplate a state of passion
To see this world free from ills
Measure him by what he feels
Assess a man by his common sense
Never by his affluence
Measure him by his charity
And his love for you and me.

Celebrate our difference

Dont hesitate over this
His mind is more important then his skin.
Love is the power with which we can measure
And if it gets better
Itll hold us together
It will help us value him. Value him.

Measure a man by what he says

And not by the tax he pays
Measure him by his dreams
And by his suffering
Measure a man by his eyes
Not by the car he drives
Value him by what he sees
And his love for you and me.

Measure a man by his sense of fun

And how he treats his woman
Measure his sensitivity
Not his masculinity
Value a man by his smile
And how he holds a child
Measure his consistency
To give love to you and me.

30
I lay awake at night thinking about things
Writing helps me relax and sometimes it can help me sleep

Only a crow crows

At 1.am litter rattles through the street
The quiet street
A leaf leaves in the wind
A breath breathes
A nose runs
A crow crows

At 1.am the moon smiles benignly

At the lamppost peasants
The rustling weasels
The stooping steeples
The bobbling badgers
And a crow crows

At 1.am the black sky stretches

Stars shoot
Fittings fit
And snoopers snoop
Only a crow crows.

c: The Dogbreaths Publishing 1977

I was in a band once and thats why some of my poems appear to have the structure of
song lyrics; some of them are.

S.E.X
So you wanna make money
Get a record on the decks
You wanna be noticed, well
Get yourself some sex.
If you gotta tell it, sex will help you sell it
If you wanna get ahead
Get a man inside your bed

If you really want to win

Sex is the only thing
If you wanna be a hit
Get sex, just get with it

31
 If you wanna be free, you gotta use your body
Sex is the only way
To make some sucker pay.

If you wanna be someone

Girl you gotta have some fun
Get a man to sign a cheque
Youll have to use your sex
If you wanna travel far, let Sex-Drive your car
You know that you can win
If you give yourself to sin.

Get with it-get that stuf

Lets not talk no more of love
Pure Sex, Hard and Fast
Thats what makes the moment last
Take your baby by the hand
Hell soon understand
And if you want real success
You have to use some Sex.

c: The Dogbreaths Publishing

1992

Moral Deficit
Political wealth and ways
Benefit old generals
Like Camerons school fag
Ride on a wing
That child of Tweed
With bloody hands
Grace rebel forced
Clegg to his dog
The budget retired
For cruising missiles
The Libyan revolt
Reviewed the push
Drop our blood-lets
On bomb-let peoples
Those public school arseholes
Daisy-cutter thugs
Cutting down thoughts
And rebated people
A bonus bank minefield
Dropped by stealth
Kettle the student
Deficit debaters

32
The tax rise party
Now old and homeless
Like Cleggs children
a reviewed spent
this coalition
of bombed revolution
homed in by students
grace, favoured generals
toast Arab blood
with privatised winks
That flying extinguisher
Thrown by a royal
Who sat on a missile
And paid back the favour
C: 2011
More sex, oh dear

SEX BOOKS
C:THE DOGBREATHS PUBLISHING

Sex books, sex books

Everywhere I look
Filthy stinking sex books.

I got a drawer full of more

Sex books, dirty little sex books
What would mother think
If she looked by chance
And saw a naked vicar
Taking it up the ahhhh.
Would she smile or scram?

Sex books, sex books

Smutty greasy sex books
Got me on the tenderhooks
Paranoid and to scared to look
I hate my hoard of crude books.

Throw them away

I do most days, and then some times
I buy more, for a thrill

33
 A scanty body on the bed, they look ill,
underfed,
Oh god, filled with dread
Over smutty little sex books

The following is a little dig at Judges, Policemen, Christians

and
grocers everywhere

SH*T LOVERS PARTY

C: 1982

Norman worked in the church

A well liked man
Helping the poor to shop
In his old van
He never took a penny for his extra time
Changing the candles and Altar wine.

He lived a pious life to all he knew

Theyd see him on Sundays in his smartest do
Hand out bibles and collecting once more
He was kind to children
And gave to the poor
But I wondered what theyd say
if the people knew
What Norman was doing,
when Sunday school was through?

He lived in a small flat

For all intent alone
Without a television, a radio or phone
Neighbours sometimes saw visitors
But no-one really cared
Thinking that poor Norman
was joined in holy prayer
They sometimes heard loud banging
Thinking Christians have such fun
Indulging in some altar wine when the hymns

34
 had been sung.

But Norman had a secret life

Of which they never guessed
Being a devout Christian man
with a slight anal fetish.

The guests came late at night

And would arrive separately
First the girl from the grocer shop
And the whispering Greek
Shed often wear her collar high
to obscure her sullen face
While hed wear dark glasses
and arrive with speed and haste
Theyd be joined by the old judge
and then the young policeman
Being greeted by Norman
with homemade scones and Jam.

Once theyd all assembled

Norm would lead through a door
To a room stripped of furniture
with rubber on the floor.
The grocer girl would always start
with a burst of eagerness
Ripping off her panties
and squatting down to piss
Then the young policeman
could not resist arrest
Dropping down his trousers
and lifting up his vest
With a thrashing and a splashing
The judge did the same
As Norman lit a candle
in praise of Golden rain.
The grocer girl ripped off her dress
and rolled along the floor
Drenched in soggy fantasy she slid in the downpour

As Norman put on his Wellingtons

35
 As the Greek looked on rather dumb
Together they met on the floor
With fingers up their bum
He would squat over the grocer girl
and getting down real low
Would have to clench his teeth,
to let a jobbie go
The judge would cock a leg,
and sniff and pant and hoot,
as a steaming brown freddy
dropped in Normans boot
The policeman rolled on the floor
all smeared gleefully
Until Norm looked at his watch
and they all stopped for tea.

Getting out a hose pipe

He would wash down his friends
Connecting the waste to an outside pipe
Just past the u bend
Then after tea and biscuits
Norman would start to grieve
As one by one his friends got up
and began to leave

First went the whispering Greek

With his hat pulled low
The grocer girl put on her scarf
And prepared to go
The judge and young policeman
Would stay and have more tea
Before leaving,
one in a Daimler
The other in a Capri

Norman would not see his friends

Till the next bible meeting
Where theyd all sing their hymns
and not exchange a greeting.
Singing loud in praise of god
A proud evangelical song

36
 While Norman handed out the bibles
With his Wellis on

c: 2000

Sitting outside Cromptons caf at 5.00am I made a note

Of what I could see.

SOHO DAZE
Pimps and hookers and sluts and queens
Heavy fist fuckers and AIDs victims
Gooks and creeps and demigods
Leather men on their hot-rods
Queers and straights and lesbian mums
Neurotic fathers with psychotic sons
Pop stars in big cars, quaint old fags
Nutty skinheads, jack the lads
Battered babies and starving nuns
Ten-year-old gangsters shooting their guns
Paranoid film stars of every creed
Gimme donations for every need
Rip offs; toss pots, dirks on speed
The worst sort of junkie
The worst sort of greed
Thieves and bandits, pick pockets and crime
Stinking drunks on the Central Line
Official judicial, the boys in blue
Bank clerks, bishops, the likes of you
Nonces and ponces, pathetic tramps
Death squad road hogs and high-class vamps
Fascists, pacifists, the good and the dumb
All slug together in this city LONDON.

c: The Dogbreaths Publishing 1983

Strategy

Ive been the love of many loves but loved by only a few
Mirrored their morality, spoke words often untrue
Climbed their bed with willingness

37
 Only jumping to my death
My whispers have been curses, hissed under my breath
Singing songs for everyone
That no-one wants to hear
Been beaten by blows from harder men
That caused my heart to fear
Ive captured the emotions
With tales of lust and guilt
And spun that yarn so tenderly the pain of grief was felt
I have loved and lost and bared the cross in shame
Blamed in lieu of every tear shed in my loves name.

I have been the lover of many loves but loved by few it seems
Slept in this waking world fixated by false dreams
Got drunken on sunken hopes scorned
Honour and loyalty
Pitching with that instant fix
of wilful treachery.
Fallen with the fallen and fooled with guttersnipes
Poisoned by the X.T.C of youthful delight
Reason was beyond me
The test is strategy and time
This face tells its own story etched in every line
In the end, who will pretend to be a friend of mine
None but one who understand the test of
Strategy and time

c: circa 87

My Mother was murdered in 1989, aged 51(Londons a dangerous town). This was
written
Sometime after that tragic event.

SILVER AND GOLD

I close my eyes and you are there

At the bottom of my bed
Your smiling eyes are shining
Your voice is in my head.
I close my eyes and hear you call
A voice I hardly hear
A chill so cold I hardly feel
Your breath upon my ear.

38
 I close my eyes and you are there
At the bottom of my bed
They said youre on the next Bardo
And would never stroke my head.
\And though I dare not follow there
I close my eyes and Im aware
A voice so still I hardly hear
A chill so cold upon my ear..

You placed a rainbow

Upon my brow
What was the tale you told
How when I visit the underworld
The silver and the gold.
Do you visit in the deep of night
When bugs are sleeping and bats delight?
Your wide smile and my eyes closed
Shining
With the silver, the silver and gold

*******************************************

Like a lot of junkies I ended up doing a stretch

The Ballad of Wormwood Scrubs

(HeeHee)

Intimeashamedmen
Eachonetormented
Getcrushedbytheirpast

Prisonersarehungry
Forsuddenforgiveness
Readjustedjunkies
Foranhouraday

Theyrolloutthetowers
Nobleandbrutish
Whilejackbootedguards
Curse.

Flankingtheirbodies
Theirchains,framed
Rattleyourbanner
Youranimalshame.

39
 Ticksonacalendar
Thebullyboyblues
Thesefourstonewalls
Aboxforwornshoes.

Filthygreyhairs
Fancybutfutile
Teasingandnagging
Likemygraffitiedwall.

Recessivebodies
Hungryforsoap
Theyrecolludingquietly
Smokingsomedope

Ibelchwithterror
Forminutes,months,years
Unbendingandridged
Theworstofmyfears.

c:1983

Get you, to heaven

To get you to heaven

You believe in God
To be saved
You praise the Lord

But ask yourself

And be true
Are your Jesus eyes
Brown or blue?

c: The Dogbreaths Publishing 2010

40
The fire of tyranny
Sweet Aradia, how I cried
When they took you to that pyre
I willed your spirit free
As flesh consumed by fire

What was it they said,

or did they try you for?
When you called down the moon
to sanctify the law

Those fools could not know

Or understand your acts
3 fold return
forbid all devilish pacts

Now nature doth salute you

And the works you did for us
The stars and planets beseech
to end your suffering with love

As your body returns to ash

amid willow and the thorn
Ill hear your voice whisper
and echo in the dawn

I will see you evermore

in those good works unpaid
In the thicket and the daisy
The crossroad and the glade

Now priestess become God

swiftly slip the coil
As your beauty fills the air
and replenishes the soil

While high above our head

A new star is born
I can hear Aradia speak
She thunders in the storm

41
I see her bless the earth
Her tears, rivers become
Feel her in each golden ray
of a mid-summer sun.
c2011

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Zeus in the garden with Ganymede

Come, the Eagle whispered,
let me bless those curls with laurel
plucked from this garden and raised.

Here, Juno whispers

an educative discourse upon
the beauty of youth.
Now moatd and walled,
lay here in the mid-day sun.

Nothing wrestles a love

so wrought with pain
nor misunderstood
That even his purpose has no value

You, the breath of my brother,

our crossed souls astound them,
become my flower in the haze of summer.

This idol of Zeus.

who has elected desire,
no not Turpes Amores,
as nourishment
I have chosen to walk, a god among equals
Let the caress of Eros
touch the full lips of you,
beloved Ganymede
Thrown down that crown of Troy
and Ill raise my soul to yours.

Yes, he replied, father-like lover,

Ill Swap this glowing skin of adolescence
For I have used devotion to seduce you
from heaven.
Come and culture my growth, lets wax and wane
Ebb and flow
we two sentient beings.

My beloved boy,
Time has worn that cloak of seduction
Take this gift of sweet chestnut and

42
exchange a soulful serenade from a
Bird of Paradise.

Let your immortal fingers

reach across the abyss of time
Here, take these tokens of affection
The station of my love,
for those who chide this relationship,
define it with gentleness and respect.

Yes, come, the youth calls,

Be my guide
For any incompetence should be challenged
with strong adult mentoring
I have no desire for creation
Other than your tender kisses
I say this from the first
In the midnight of your journey
Elder Statesman, will you elect
to cloud this beauty
against the ingress of other mortals
For no advisor could be a dearer friend.

My beloved boy
your idolatry and fingers
flow through this body of mine
Our courage astounds those who condemn
To those who shout Turpes Amour,
Zeus replies
The force of our devotion,
this heroic act of seduction
offer a way through one valued life.
The relationship between a god and mortal boy
this union of deliciousness,
is infinite

Make me your Brother in Arms

The adolescent now raised immortal whispered
The golden youth, that ray from the heavenly orb
A face so sweet and smelling of cherished fruit
says, I have longed for those eyes
Now this act of strawberry seduction
Levitates us above the world of mortals
We are honeysuckle gods in this flowering Eden.
The birds sing for us

Here, sit beside my throne.

Rise up in your passion
I give you cultured friendship
A brotherhood of learning
Like Juventus, you shall grow in this Gods shadow.
Ill clothe you in glory

43
Your lips shall speak again
about this paradise
For the reign of monsters cannot bother us.

Sweet Flosulus, how you disarm them

A PueriDelictum, smiled Ganymede
Our nature is written upon the
sweet citrus fruit of summer
So let us enjoy this devotion
Before we are destroyed by the corruption
of this heated debate and turmoil.

Circa 1982

C:TheDogbreathsPublishing2011

Untitled

The forest of Mar

By The Lin of Dee
Holds mysteries in its great trees
Hides swords in its boughs
And magical runes
Overgrown paths lead down to the ruins,
Where monsters recall the days of war
Of pagan rituals and Gaelic law
Where two paths meet and water falls
Diana dies to be reborn
In the June

The Devils Point

By Mondah Mor
Marks the spot
in days of yore
Where swords were sharp
and lives were drawn
In the battle
before the dawn

44
 On monsters tails
they erected sails
Those pagan masters
moved like snails
To find a point
where two paths cross
And water flows down to the north
A stone awaits
a ritual call
Blood of Diana
will be reborn
And cover the earth in June.
Cover the earth in June.

c: The Dogbreaths Publishing

circa 80

Oh my sense of humour

A cautionary rhythm
C: 2010
Farmer Howe, the one from Slough
Tried to mate a horse with a cow
He thought the horse would be a first course
And the milk would make a stallion sauce

In the stable the lights burned low

The farmer hoped romance would grow
But instead of sun the wind blew cold
Foretelling hence times of woe

Daisy cow, for a laugh, had herself a scented bath

The stallion plated his great main
And hoped his date would not be vain
Horsy tried to make a trend
And be a friend of the cows rear end

As lightening struck and thunder roared

45
The farmers wife praised the lord
That stallions worth was in his girth
And a miracle might walk the earth

The sun rose and a new day dawned

Daisy was found looking forlorn
She had got,a real bad shock
When she saw the horses cock

Nine months later something stirred

The barnyard echoed with expectant words
Chickens clucked and ducklings ducked
Pigs posed and goats rucked

A shocking screech and stunted roar

Made all eyes turn to the stable door
On a manger of wheat and corn
A new species had been born

Farmer Howe, the one from Slough

Expected to find a Horse come cow
But in the stable his world was rocked
Finding daisy had died of shock

Between her legs he found a beast

With four legs and horsy bits
A shiny coat and full main
With udders and four great tits

He opened a stall and people said wow

Tasting their first equine cow
He gave away tomato sauce
And a ride on his bovine horse

Thats a true story,or is it.?

Two (more)
With respect to L.A.D
I was sunken in a well
Damp and dark and wet
Sunk on my lost love
Drowned in regret
When along came a youth
46
 A half score and ten
green eyes lit the dark
he Smelt of sweet scent
peering in the well
Lips a balmy red
I asked before he go
Would a hand he lend
The boy Lowered a twine
Of hemp and thorny rose
I climbed from that pit
And in his arms I froze
He curled a tender mouth

Kissed me wantonly
While trestles from his crown
Fell soft and brown and free
tongues like silken thread
Weaved lattice yarn so fine
The beating in my panting ribs
one become majestic nine.
On flowerd beds we crib
Stroked passions with finger tips
His hands were soft and flagrant
Succulence spurt from his hips
I fell upon this saviour boy
Lost in breathless, sweetness joy
How could this love be called shame
When beauty be his other name.

c: 2010

47
There follows two except from BEFORE NOW AND
AFTER

A visit to an island

There is, like hawk on fire, a sword

Curved; its blade rolling;
Stalking the seam.
A feather on a shield held high
In a rock or stone
Shimmering.
Like water falling
On a blue, empty pass,
True and high and rained.
Falling, curving down through this flower
This flower of fire
Blooded and fallen.
Its face and roots, its clawed and hooded
Stone fingers like poses
Of fire, of water, of magick.
Pondlike, wide and deep as the sea.
Deadly.

This second excerpt is presented whole and in context. The actual poem
Is a integral part of the story and consequently has to be presented with the
accompanying dialogue.

S.S.S. BAP. HO. MET

48
Listen, you who have ears. She said raising her
chin and dancing slowly towards him. The seven
sacred sonnets of BAP-HO-MET. She said.
A little mathematical poem for you, my brother,
this will show you the depth of my
understanding.

She moved towards him with the gong in one hand

and the gabble in the other. Dancing hypnotically
as the sound from the speakers filled the air. He
raised his glass towards her and smiled.
A mathematical riddle, she continued. The nine
degrees.

She squatted down on her haunches and looked up

at him like a cat. A candle burning behind her
flickered through the soft green silk of her
dress and she banged the gong three times before
whispering.
FIVE equals SEVEN.
Yes Sophie Leigh, he asked softly. What is
Philosophus?

Standing she thrust her groin towards him and

continued to dance slowly like a serpent around
the chair in which he sat, mouthing a verse for
him in tune with the music. Each line of the
verse was filled with a hidden symbolism that he
was to interpret; it was a game only they knew
the rules too.
FIVE equals Seven. She repeated.
This is the word of the Hermit
the sacred name of fire
the secret word on Shus brow
a Virgin in the sky.

Her brother twisted a half smile towards her

arching body as she moved around him. Her words
echoed from the walls and ceiling as she moved in
time with the slow march of drums. Building the
tension between them both as a slow lattice of

49
rhythm grew with each word her rose red lips
uttered.
He nodded for her to continue.

SIX equals SIX, she said banging on the gong a

further four times.
This is the magick Herophant
the bull-horned man reborn
the Horus flower
a name of power
the bringer of fire-storms.

She banged the gong three more times and sank to

one knee.

SIX equals FIVE

In dark storms they dwell
The Emperor and The Ram
The messenger called Jupiter
Will lead to their crown

Standing and giving a bow Sophie danced away from

him moving her hips from side to side
seductively. He watched the performance with
interest the smile becoming wider with each sway
of her hips.

SEVEN equals FOUR

When one becomes majestic NINE
Hermes longs for birth
The Empress flies in Vermilion skies
Far above the Earth

EIGHT equals THREE

The Priestess will devour you
Kneel to be her blessed
Bend low and take the Moons arrow
Drink the essence of Isis

NINE equals TWO

The pumping rod must be purged
Thrust forth the Mages staff
Do not hold back Mercurys attack

50
Call here the name of Mars.

The music beat frantically as she twisted around

the room a flowing blur of green silk. Her hair
loose hung around her shoulders in wild tassels
and her skin was kissed with sweet droplets of
moisture. She banged the gong three times as if
to underline the dance.

TEN equals ONE

Hear, seed of Osiris
Its the Fool in search of TIME
A spurt of white
The stains of night
AIR in EQUALIBRIUM.

London Life

Mary Bolton may have clemmed

All those years ago
But here we are a century on
An still exists
Such tales of woe

Old people starve or

Chilled to death
Suicides
Ride the tide
At a hostel
I join the queue
Hoping for some rest tonight

In the summer sun Im warm

But winter brings me sighs
Will this year I starve to death
Or drown on this year coming tide?
If fear were food
Id be well fed
If anxiety coal Ill warm
If this summer weather ever ends
Ill crash like a wave
Thrown up in a storm.

Fragile are my bones

Im in a welfare state

51
 Listen close upon the wind
My broken nerves congregate
I wish I could be fit to work
Get a job and earn my life
Ill cook your food, open your doors
Tie your shoes and live YOUR life

If doors would open and not

Shut in my face
If the cost of life were not the
Payment of death
Id be happy and have faith
In what time I had left

c: The Dogbreathes 2000

There is no Heaven

If you look outside your window

You will see theres no rainbow
Notice how the chilled wind blows
Softly through the trees

Walk through an avenue

In the city you thought you knew
Do you hear the sounds, with which you grew
Or do you just freeze?

Look into the sky above

And wonder what its all about
Intuition will leave no doubt
Someday your lights go out
In time youll learn all
What stands someday must fall
In the end we all decay
Like stone, wood, night and day
There is no heaven

Did you ever loose a friend

One on which you did depend?
Was their life real or just pretend
Where are they now?

52
 Walking through that avenue
Of cold stone and rough hew
Where are the sounds you thought you knew?
Buried deep underground.

The Dogbreaths Publishing

c: 1977

I passed me on the street

20 years ago
I saw a man a little like me
I was in my car on my way to work
And I guessed so was he.

Instead of a car he pulled a cart

Piled high with iron, steel and scrap
Dragging his load through the street
What a resourceful chap?

I saw him ago recently

He was now but skin and bone
Grey hair long and unkempt
Eyes focussed on the zone.

I was no longer in a car

Thats something I have lost
Nor was I on my way to work
No one wants to be my boss
So what am I to make of this
How the paths we both have trod
He was clearly much worse off
But so was I by god.

Perhaps next time we meet

Ill be grey and unkempt
He may drive by in a car
That his boss has lent?

If lifes a set of choices

What road do we take
Will I regret taking this route?
Or rue the choice I make?

c: 2010

53
 Childrens games some adults play.

Some people I know

Hate each other
They bitch and gossip
Spread rumours and lies

They play mind-games

Accuse and put down
Work their frustrations
Out on each other

This one likes him

They both hate her
She and he
Cant stand the others
Sometimes they talk
Two of them visit
Ones an outsider
Despised by the others

Politics and intrigue

Descends into violence
Exploitations
A regular feature

This one hates that one

They like each other
He cant stand her
She ignore them

The two girls fight

The boys do also
Sometimes it changes
All mates again

Sitting on that fence

Hurts the backside
Walking that tightrope
Of mediation

54
 Interventions hard
From crisis to crisis
The factions gather
And analyse motives

More gossip and intrigue

Warfare and horror
No compromise
Is their policy

Kiss and make up?

Not after this.
Just choose a side
Create coalitions

Put on your helmet

And bullet-proof vest
Keep your head down
The family are visiting.

c:2010

Something to share

I have often heard people say

I didnt ask to be born
But I did.

Pre-birth
I can remember sitting
By a sparkling pool
Surrounded by ghostly faces
A voice said

Are you ready?

I looked into the pool and saw

A road, a pavement
Shoes.
Feet trudging through the snow.
Are you ready?

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 The voice asked.

Then I was born.

I grew up thinking
This memory was
A hallucination
A
Fabrication
Mixed up, childish fantasy

Now I know the truth.

The voice I heard
Was my mother speaking to me
In the womb.

The sparkling pool

was the birth canal
I was destined to travel through.

The faces and ghosts

Were reflections
Of my face in her womb.

The shoes were her shoes

The feet were her feet
trudging through the snow
as she made her way home
with a baby on the way.

I thought Id share that with you.

c: The Dogbreaths Publishing 2010

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
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Ive always been interested in history...

Henri 11
The interesting and conflicted life of Englands most uncelebrated King.

There are no heroic statues

to Englands King of stone

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 who brought peace to this realm
and gave common law a home
His mother, to thwart King Stephen
married a French knight
A Plantagenet of Aquitane
and Henri
was their pride.

Raised in the chivalric tradition

He married French Eleanor
11 years his elder
a stranger to this shore
She came from the land of troubadours
They move to London town
and after King Stevens death
Henri received Englands crown

He made his coronation vows

To protect the church and land
Suppress evilness
deal justice fairly from his hands
In twenty years he enshrined this law
In courts around the land
Set up to judge the woes of lords
and less worthy serf and man

The clergy recommended

A learned priest to be his aide
A commoner and merchant son
Thomas Becket was his name
Chancellor he was made
And wherever the King roamed
this cleric made sure the bills were paid
the saddle being Henris home

Henri liked Beckets usefulness

Calling Thomas his equal and friend
Said in him he could confess
He made him Archbishop to the end

But behind the scenes they disagreed

About papal supremacy
Becket said that Kings concede
to the Popes authority
and that clerics were above mans law
they should not be tried in civil courts
Henri felt that this was wrong
And other views he then sought

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 He demanded Becket assent control
but was told, to no King, God bowed
so a scheming plan was wrought
to accuse Becket of monetary fraud
Thomas realised that plots were near
And made a plan to quickly go
for 6 years in exile
Becket prayed for the Kings soul
Until a brighter mood had dawn
and both could remit their pride
In 1170 on Traitors Meadow
the King and Becket were reconciled

The bells tolled when Becket returned

The peasants sung and acted merry
And Becket walked proudly barefoot
In hair-shirt to Canterbury
But Beckets newfound confidence
led him to smite his enemies
From the pulpit once again
accusing them of excess and sleaze
The King hearing this treachery
Cried Who will rid me of this man?
four knights hearing this call
exercised a fearful plan

They went to Becket and said submit

Pay homage to the Kings rule
But the reckless archbishop
decided to martyr to principle
He turned and went at Vespers hour
leaving the cathedral door ajar
And as he submitted himself to god
the knights decided to end his power

In the north transept four swords flashed

warm blood pooled the stone floor
Beckets head flew from his neck
while frightened clerics watched from the door
The King hearing of Beckets death
his heart sank and blood did freeze
he decided then as a penance
to walk barefoot to Canterbury

This was not the end of his trials

he built a tomb for his dead mistress
Making wife Eleanor spit bile
she sought to turn their childrens heads
Sons Richard and John declared war

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 on their father, King and Lord
They undid his kingdom in 15 years
with jealousy and their swords
So Henris rule did sadly end
in 1189 he died ashamed
But his law courts survived
And our flag is still Aquitanes
The Magna Carta may not have come
if he didnt rule this land
Justice and freedom free for all
Defines this, Great Britain

D.W.K 2010

A couple of things I wrote in prison

My Dead Heroines
So ghostly and fucked
Take Edie, she screwed it
She was just
A fragile complex
An icon close-up
With queen fingers
That passion of platinum
Out-in-out fashion

Youre perfect and sparkle

There in the snow
Judy the fallible
Insecure idol
Billies immortal
Songs of the sky
Cold memories
In birdlike eyes

Such passion has gone

Abused and pouting
Your wasted hair
Coherent shouting
I love your dream
Like Lupe Valez
A frozen torch
Drown in a toilet

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 She danced with death
A philosophy
Live fast
Radiate
Die pretty
Such a beautiful image
Dancing sublime
Shooting eye-liner
and star in that sky.

C: The Dogbreaths Publishing

The Love Jockeys

C: The Dogbreaths Publishing HMPCH84

A flash of spiked barbed wire

in tubes of frog spawn
Behind the wall of rubber skin
throbs the weekend love-in
Riding on her deaths head
Mr Blair and his whore
he calls her his Cindy doll
and screwed her to the floor
In frog wire and barbed tubes
The spawn and their dog
riding on dead Cindy
screwing up their god
Spawn dolls her love-in
her barbed rubber skin
caress that dog tenderly
who knows where its been
Riding on Mr Blair
the wind in his whore
those spawn frogs with rubber skins
screwed him to the floor
skin dolls with frog tubes
riding on a wall
Flash the throbbing barbed wire
in the Cindy doll
Screw Blair and his whore
sucking on the dog
In tube wire and frog spawn
rides the living god
Caress the skin sensually
The gods spawn is wired
At the weekend love-in

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 a new dog is sired
Sex dolls and dog tubes
loved his rubber whore
sucking on the frog spawn
screwed to the floor
Riding on the sex skins
blow the frog- whore
Dead Cindys on the wall
Gods dead upon the floor..

My lifes a faded photograph

As a youth I yearned to cross lips
Up the mouth of a frail, thin lad
But my mouth just got flattened
By punches, kicks and whacks
Reflecting back upon that pain
My tears replaced with vex
Those boys want me now for my cash
And its easy to pay for sex.

Shy, introverted I just

Wanted tenderness
But that boy was lost with the passing years
And has found his confidence

Back then I hungered, panted

Longed into the withered night
But the years have replaced my impatience
With no further fear of twilight
Those leather pants got crutch-worn
The Destroy tee-shirt split and soiled
I still wear my faded jeans
But today theyre stonewashed and pre-boiled.

I aspired to be a better man

Than my Dad and have friends like his
But now I know he got ripped off
By those vagabonds and fair-weather thieves

I never felt at home back then

Life was a void of safety and warmth
The memories have a sepia tint
The image faded and edges torn
Youths can never feel secure
The beauty is so transient
We wake one day from our pain
And wonder where our life was spent

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 Death seemed like another land
Far from here, so meaningless
But now alone with grief to feel
My immortal soul seems restless
Those family vaults and tombs beloved
Remind us nothings here for long
Those square shoulders that carry the dead
Soon rounded and are gone

The leaves fell from the trees

The shrubs bow and turn to dust
Death waits watching from the wings
The dear-departed one-day are us
Shed no tears for my corpse
My soul hasnt been stolen. Its the truth
I rode from here on a mystical steed
All the way from
Keither to Malkuth

Looking at faded photographs

Of a boy who longed to grow
Id like to reach inside the image
And tell that boy all I know
Id say nothing really matters
If you know and love who you are
Once you understand the cosmos
You can shine like any other star.
You can be a greater man
Then any one whos ever been
The universe is your to own
Just find and ride your wings.

Just find and ride, your wings.

C: The Dogbreaths Publishing

Hackney 2011

The Sprat and The Rat

A spectral Sprat from Longa-dong

Met a rat from Hong Kong
What be you? Asked the Sprat
I am a king replied the Rat
What be a king? The Sprat asked so
Oh, you pay a king if you want to go

62
 I pay you? The Sprat replied
So is a king like a guide?
No the rat hissed and crowed
A king collects all your gold
And if I pay not? The Spectral Sprat said
Ahh thats easy, its off with your head
Oh I see, said an anxious Sprat
Reaching to remove his peeked hat
Its a good job with this and that
Upon my head sleeps this cat
Under the hat, a pussy lay
Until the Sprat prodded it awake
Does he eat kings the shaking rat sighed
No, only rats the Sprat replied.
Then Ill let you on your way,
Good cheer to you this bright day

Guess what happened next.

2011
David William Kirby
www.thedogbreathspublishing.weebly.com

Love, Peace and Goodwill to all of you

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