Triumph/Acclaim

Triumph > when we walk that hill,

when we walk that hill, 

to a red Vaux beer on a box car top. 

Acclaim > for we're off the upper

in the three point rain,

waiting tables turned.

And the striding pain is just a sprain.

And the tracking's listing,

the steering's shot, but look

*check the sideways lingo* Listen.

We'll be high on tops of keys

we'll drift in green and lush and

split these pick beak bills, thus:

we'll steer ourselves shifty, feed

ourselves fifty, stay hungry and dig, 

we'll Leatherette lick the postal

order toward a brighter one. 

We'll save the cow today.

On the island of small victories, 

sacred moments come.

Peak attitude is sheer collective

and the view up here,

shall earn ourselves

some handsome. 

BLM

spit that dummy of guilt

it stops us calling out

switch our phones

from echo mode

pull liking fingers out

power up and ask

why we sat inside ourselves

outdoors it's going off

did we ever learn in school

black lives matter too

or have we just forgot? 

Dummy

The shiny minded

in this mangled moment

empty smashed packets from

shorts too short for their own pockets.

Even empty bottles have weight

and break and blow where

everything shows and

flows as it's already

quarter past far

too late. 

Hypocrisy Tweet

Gait of bacon stoops the tannoy for the next world guff. In awe he thinks we are. Pat rules screech the nation. We stitch scraps.
He cleans up down stepstools to an unlimited. Jags off, fuckem shouts. 'Lectric window, lobs it out.
A1 kids catch the bag.
This our cat?
Never, lads.

Jones' Poem

They're keeping up
Like the clappers
While still breathing

Blakey

I love the look of fire alarms. 

Wink waiting for the fire

that plastic look of buttoned cheek, 

shall realise that the rich

even this petty peak, 

have stolen

everything. 

The Long Walk Home

There was no football today. 

Time is now a prize to be eaten.

Alive, are the curtain twitchers, 

ounting cold coffee cups, bars on

heaters in rhythm with the vidi printer.

I'm lucking past indoors, where I know,

inside feels like winter. A porch. 

She keeps her head down there.

I’m past fixed set frowns. A torch. 

He hides his record in there, where

mat painted post is scared of itself 

and she is simply laying down.

The 'ee!! Iife eh? commonality adverts,

as if life was Coronation St. 

Crumb confinement for solitary some.

There's somehow sick, on this beat. 

A crouching builder Slavic saddened,

a man fills an already full bin.

Magpies on chips and dogs over

three-legged loved cats, fight. 

I chew through garage lands where

Tesco keeps the tree bag flying,

Jason keeps Lambrettas, 

a geezer kept his sleeper, 

until yesterday. His bird will sing.

I'm past bawdy bars, behind boarded bars, 

where they knock, but they don't ring.

No more time, gentlemen please.

We're still 1 up, before 5 minutes of extra

and 5 down, after 1 minute of closing.

Time is tight, round here.