THe Poetry Bus poem type thing

Shadows will cross your path, dead people rise up or lay down to haunt you, but it's the only way ahead, no turning back, never look back except in anger.

Tis a catharsis a symbiosis, a process by which..., a coping method, a linear procedure, a putting of one letter in front of another like feet of a thousand miles. Why, because they (b)are there and the only other alternative is not to, and that seems the greater of two evils and somewhat negative.

So to accentuate the positive while still (or through) emitting/ expunging/ processing the negative in a written detox seems like a reasonable thing to do in the face of everything we are faced with in our daily lives which like the courses of true love, never run smooth. In this life you will only regret the things you never did, unless you supported Liverpool Football Club or murdered all your family.

What I am trying to say is that this may not be a good poem but it might possibly be better than no poem , for the writer if not the reader!

Nothing exceeds like excess and Nanu was in search of too much, I hope she found it in spades in all your poems

Today I have mainly been drinking Obst- Schnaps and lager and am on the ledge /knife edge of relaxation and vomit. Such a thin line between too much and way too much and this ironically when your judgementy/perception of excess is at it's least accurate.

It's so strange. When you're sober you'd be at your best able but least likely to climb a lampost, and when you're drunk you are conversely at your least able but most likely to climb it. Life can be a sardonic bastard.

Also, and,if ,or but, the thing is, when things are really desperately bad you are paralysed in the moment and can't /won't/ wouldn't/ couldn't write at all. It is later when you are (almost) safely ashore that you can dare to go back. You need a little sunshine to cast a shadow.

The Easter song.

We had it all we wanted for nothing
We wanted more

And how will I cope how will I live
Among ghost estate life
Turf fires, embers now
Glowing in memory
Enough was enough
Never now
Too much is never…

Juke box bandits one-armed legless

Keys in the lock
A different lock every night
Oh,nameless as the stars above
Houses, houses ,houses
Up on the skyline we yearn to
Float flee fly free
Life once enjoyed,now endured

Thick through the thin years
And (pity me
Have mercy on me)
Money passes hands far
Quicker than the lives I broke
Goat rough hollow heart

The wren in the hand I held
The wren in the hand I crushed
Cowardice in telephone booth
every card held, poker faced
those thin lips I almost kissed
I wonder if that love is hate

too much is never enough


glass of red pint of blood
scar lit city
dirt beneath the nails
filthy lucre
skip filled, the in, the out
the richest corpse
the glory and the soul
worms turning
that forgave the plough
but who will live
to forgive
me

As rain’s river falls
In tumbling cats and dogs
I look for wounds to sink my hands
To kiss another cheek
From candlelit page
To moonlit street
My head bowed drunk
Over bare boards
Screaming hordes in my forgotten head
Forget-me-not
Lover, brother, sister, fool.
Hallelujah.

And all you need is intelligence a Swiss Army Knife and charm!!