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The wind rises
As thoughts of thighs settle
The wonder of the prizes
With luck I’ll be on my mettle

The wind rises
Storms return to the east
The hangover of lust despises
Torments of the panting beast

The wind rises
As also does the sap
The mid-life crisis curiously assizes
That now we are on the final lap

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Crass

You are as I always am
You are as I always will be
I cannot say those long lost words
I am not here to simplify the mystery

I am as you always saw me
As you always thought me to be
I cannot fend off the new sadness
Unable to forget past games you see

You, and I, and we, together
We together, you, and I, to be
I cannot fall any farther, or further
Unable to gather-in a false sincerity

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Wedding Day

Slot machines keep on slotting
Kiss me quick hats
Pray kiss me on the lips
Life could go on forever

The Chic Baby from LA
Or maybe Market Harborough
Turns, and turns again
Outside the Imperial Ballroom

Later
In the half-light of the darkness
A life is taken
Somewhere up by the caravan park

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On The Pier

Sisters, in sari’s
Hippies, with long grey beards
Deckchairs for people watchers

Soft white sands
With talk of past generations
Returning back to town

A polish narrative on the mobile
Continentals to continents abound
Ice creams, big as children’s faces

Candy floss, even bigger still
Who would, who wouldn’t
Who didn’t, who did; did you

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Only For Pier Customers

Grandmother, mother
Daughters, dogs
Laughter

Boyfriend, girlfriend
Ice-smoothie, expectations
Laughter

Dreadlocks, odd socks
Plimsolls, denim jeans
Laughter

Parents, children
Ride-on-bikes, payments
Laughter

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