there - it’s gone now

sounds of the sixties;

an old song slices my heart.

who was she?

where were we?

who were we?

there! it’s gone now.

a sea of emotion

as the cat’s paw pauses

above the other paw’s spot

so my toes in the ocean 

stir a sandy plot

in the drawing back

of a tide of emotion

what was long forgotten 
suddenly overwhelms

my fortification

spider spider

spider spider

a long trough of milky sibilant satin

breathless in hanging the dusty way

our gaze hypnotic along and into

this fate this fly on his fateful day

wriggling waiting waiting wiggling

tiptoe-eyed it seems belies

that presence is resident here 

as we in turn this wait denies

once again the dark childhood corners 

eye what the dark in darkness hides

for exploding across this mithril meadow 

a belly on eight stilted legs in rapier glides

the spider jumps and we jump back

ancestors scream quick hide and hide

as "got you" is pulled back quick as a flash

it’s fangs remaining chew on our insides

timeless each time

where have all the maidenheads gone

 long time parsing

where have all the maidenheads gone

 long time aglow

where have all the vestal virgins gone

 long time falling

where have all the vestal virgins gone

 long time a bleeding

they’re collected in a silver jar

 long time shrivelling 

collected with the puerperal prepuces

 long time shrivelling  

where have all the maidenheads gone

 at this time of asking

they’ve fallen to brave hearts everyone

 multi multi-tasking 

when will they ever learn

 when will they ever learn

that it’s on your tube now

  that it’s playing

a golden disc for a golden gate 

 to a very secret garden

when will they ever learn

   when will they ever learn

the ages of a book

a prequel said the squirrel

 i’ll bury it in the pages 

a sequel squeaked the mouse

i found it under the leaves

a postscript said the cat

pouncing on the words

as the pages of the book of life

turned over in the breeze 

the air show

the air show 

it’s that they are killers that kills it;

these beautiful killing machines.

and will they crash? maybe they’ll crash?

wills the crowd of cannon fodder.

the wow wows of engines

wow wows the crowd;

but it was only yesteryear;

that their mums and dads

said "we can take it",

as the bombs rained down

upon this town.

there have been air shows,

there is this one, 

there will be one next year;

unless there is another war;

and it’s that these killers will kill again

that kills it;

it’s what the bloody air show

is showing you.

the football results

the football results

by the radio

by the ash tray

blowing the glowing

fag end days

four aways

they never did 

did they

dad

uh what