Testosterone has a smell
Did you know or even notice?
It emanates from the fingertips of the factotum
I know this for a fact
I'm well red, but admit nothing
For i'd hate myself in the morning

JSA is a haven for wildlife
Did you know or even notice?
It's a suitable location
For the children we'll never have
For the fuller figures and
Magnetic rivers
Look out East, but truly you
Carry the North in your heart

Time to get rid, worse luck
Of the A4 lined
Nevermind, March is good for an
Abb attack, a god-faxed
Workout for the young
With so little to say other than
Don't fence me in, sung and vying with
Windows down and woofers and the like
I grieve in advance
Leicester is always the same
I grieve in advance
My favours for the neighbours are
Never-ending
My floating bones long for attachment
A heart that collects the dust
Is an open one for sure
I know this, i have devised rotas in mid-brain
While you have prep'd ice cold suppers
But it has been good to look back
I have re-discovered Mecanno
I have remembered the Golden Touch
I have learned that
All the boys are called Stephen and that
Their world is a Partick off-license
When the wine's in
The wit's out...
Imagine the scenario
Running with low prices or
Sitting smug with the page
Vertical between thumb and finger
Haul in and copy the latest classic
Be parched or be brassic
A liquid plastic gives new perspective and
Blacklines, they are everywhere
Some are invaded by the sealant but
Their demise does not silence the
Cavernous echoes of the fifth channel

I seen it
I seen it
I seen it
Wretched little Marylin
The smiler of a sly one
It was wild and smouldering
Like the destitute
Then chop-chop
A notorious nature took hold
And placed orders...
Imposed its tatty time limits
Pointed to the corners
Searched for the lock-up
And pulled cirrus over hot flags

Revert to the old, the University
Be four hours early andWait
This trash will curdle no doubt
But if you see the gap, aim and
Embrace the Hispanic while you can
I read through the personals
The print is too small, is like the minute hooks of velcro
So off again i switch and think of
The good service and the decent product
The fast turnaround and this fashion for tattoos
Music from the nineteen-eighties plays
It grates a little but
The mood is tolerable, despite
Invitations and their screaming and then their erasing
Would Ipsos MORI find any
Solutions for this pestilence?
For this Monday Life?
I bide my time, then
Make a splash
Glide from greatness and into
The months of hunger
Into the season of the current

There is just a half page
Remaining, my eyes are blurry
With seismic ink
Assurance of tasks completed
Of sums and currencies
Accomplishment and conversion, then
A door bell rings three times
Recognition and the rescue is complete
My blank will remain so
The asylum seeker will have
Accommodation considered some other time
I can hear descending limbs and torso
I cannot find notgeld
I cannot see the tricolour
But here some great dulled reflection and
Show-off matt shadows quiver
Against the self, against
The one-way portrait
Thumping feet two floors up
Alter the flow of memory
Erase fleeting thoughts and
Produce a drubbing
For this, there is no substitute
I stretch the calf and drain lymph
I move withershins, but
Will the cartlidge
Carry me through one more turn
Of this heartless barren stone?
We discuss the three drives
But do not really touch on shriveldom

Feeling the discomfort in the extra visit upstairs
I decide on a new angle
It thrives
On gossip and
At once is all...is all...
Is all carbon dioxide
You say hello and then
You say great
The good news is of no use
To my preparation for the
Forthcoming conflict...
The sixth of a muggy
Muggy morning
When huge gifts
Have been making us feel
Mortified, industrious
Conscious...
Until we have traded our content of water
With the profiteers of the three mile radius

Vans and caravans
What else to say?
Let's open the crack champagne
Let's appreciate that we don't belong here anymore
And let us not despair
That we didn't learn this sooner...taking place next to me
A discussion and a white-blood
House-makeover on foreign soils
Ironic
Kids
France
Just a selection of the overheard
Despite my being very biz-ee...
Sorry, but i have Beth on my mind
The Korean flag flappin' in my ear
And the Portuguese tourist in tow
My plan today is out of the window
Is too mad
If you were to clean up the vomit
From last year
I would be truly touched
Like the eagle that soars
And i would cry
Like O'neill
Like O'neill

We were planning a surprise
Seeing as this was the creative period
I had learned how to spell backfired
I had learned the mantra
And Jackson was the overseer
It brought little comfort
And I could only dream of the scars...three
Five and eight...
My back
It's skin was white
I was prepared to lose...wouldn't
Hesitate to lose the little finger too
A good repair job would ensure
Admission into golf clubs again
But instead, i watched
The man as he actioned his drink to his lips
Indicating his preference, he blew a kiss and
I saw his eyes run down the length of the bottle
And towards his true goal

Dennis has lust, it's called
Dennis Lust
The cathedral is a hygienic place
So his arms fold
Indicating satisfaction
Pleasure even
He seems to be smiling
Either with himself
Or at the others
A chav
A simon-pure shamateur
Shinkansen, been there
Around the block
On a tee shirt
Oh just
Trip me up and laugh when i fall

Absenteeism in the barfly
It means i'm unable to catch
The latest in talking therapies
I find comfort instead in
The grafitti of cubicles, it provides
The best jokes and
The most important telephone numbers
Let them make their mistakes
Give us a day or two
To extricate from the smell
Of tobacco from tight clothes
To stand on tiptoes and reach
With remote control and
Extinguish the sunset, drink
First thing in the morning with
The analysts of coupledom
The takers of minutes
The extraordinarily happy
The leavers of work
The best point provers
Oh right
Oh right

Win, win, the cleaner informs me
The big boss is still 'ere
Peering through venetian
Get on with some work
The shredding of months
The erasing of a numerical soul
Our footsteps, now failing to defy the nine plus metres per second
Attempt success in top-heaviness
The balmy wind awaits us
Will reward our entry
Into a ceiling sky
Our cardigan wrappers
Scarf knots and
Mop gloves
Will remove themselves and
Will greet us warmly
With a series of goodbyes

Three middling surrogates
Arrive with who?
The residents of a church down there
Where lovely new excavations are staged
And where people like James have lots to answer for
The daughter irritates
Like citrus and paper cut
Like futures and jazz stations
But her freshness is
Perfectly proportioned
She shivers, her father
Points to the kerb
He is introducing her
To an old way of life, security
And false deadlines

A wannabe singer for the losers
Baby
Baby
His style is free, his indifference
To the multiple fingering of chops
Is apparent and is a warning
Wildlife is accessible in these parts
Paradise is long overdue and
The grind is perfected
As airports and old neighbours
Stretch in parallelism
Towards booming Indonesian dreams
We have societies to build you know
And tunes to croon
Friends to invoice
Madness to drive in
Madness to drive on
Because the ill and tonight's house-bound and
The foreign marine cannot
Standalone
For much longer

There are no pigeons
This is ensured by the monitors of white
The twice-a-day cleaners
Comfort
An air that is germ-free is maintained, as is the balance
Of a bleached downpour
Would our untouchables
Value a skylight sea and
Hurtle breast first?
A single foot trailing towards darkened days?

Anti-clockwise
Birthdays
Bleached, free of hands
Who buckled her front teeth
This time last year?
This time last year was
Aggressive, charming and monied
Laughter was a sedative
Happiness, a skit
A bland bouquet
Ascended like the sick verminous lark and
With altitude, the flowers bloomed
Then yawned and fell
Into commitment

Unable to escape
A failing hoist, now open is
The handling of milk
The cockiness and the fixed smile
A man was decorated, his
Greatest pictures set ablaze
A small world
A crumby fixture
His laughing growl, overbear in this
District of shuffling restless jewels
A violation of the cherry eaters' space and
Those with a thing for all things red, like
Spreadsheet, dance and pretend fighting
In the closed footpath, in the
Fantastic place to be, the
Desire-laden Plaza

Afros are still eye-catchers
So bet now
In this, the region of pitter-patter
The niceties of ordering coffee and
The limping of drivers is enough
I beg, beg, beg you not to enter
Not to slummy stain your fingertips
Bring home the Asian
And record the reaction
But reject this...the smile
The shag-brained humour
The hidden dirty hands
Ready at the till

The view from this connection
Is the best, is like cotton
The VIPs
Through breezeblock
To the nobodies
Essential listening, desirable living
Was my suffering apparent from these plains?
I will choose the right side, the winning side
Any day of the week...so long live Poland!
I will target the headless people, the temporary
Forwards and in anger...
In the midst of chronic fatigue
I will laugh with the drivers of Jags, for
Too much is of statuesque appeal
To squint in the direction of
The Belgian
The Bully
The Bruiser
We Brueghels have moved to, of all places
England

I, a proper adult
Know the Love part
It is expressed too soon
Like a descending nocturnal vapour trail
The sugar loaded frame, skinny and

With the hardware store purchases
Has had enough
And peddles into poverty, into width
Anywhere but where
There is information
He and i shiver
He and i dream of strawberries
He and i yearn for commerce
He cannot abide the screams
Nor i
Forget China
This will be my century
Counting...one two three

This director, this
Buff departed upon the arrival of little old Edward
My dubiousness was here already
The grey velvet ribbed streaks
The floral shirt tail used to wipe clean a table
It is to be expected here
Amongst the purveyors of peanuts
Palm tops and flaky scalps
The cold independents and the dropsters of litter
Former lovers
Media friendly blondes...a decent airport
Terminal catch for sad photographers
A wretched howling bounces off the and/or walls
While secretly we wonder who possesses such freedom
We sit motionless and conclude the community
Must be here

There was the diner
There was the former life
Father's Day is quiet...
Is...when again?
The little leister
Is handsome and secretive, a
Witness to nothing
Except cables and tonnage and
Hauliers...language students
Surprise me with their hobbies
And their lies trouble me too
Their electricity is audible
Their bodies remote

Recent notions on the Love part...
The child's for the hamster
And Lisa's for the platform
She has a platform
She has the look, is a proper adult
Will kill, will die
For the rodent Love
But not for me
I cannot compete, therefore
I will not
Instead i reminisce
It's recommended for the elderly you see...and I will
Reflect upon conversations had
With the attention-seekers
I'd like to enter a powerless substation
My living dying flesh as capacitor
Take me novelly, like a woodland burial
Let my lead casket enter God's open arms
Like the vacuum flush at thirty thousand feet

Venti is me
Inserted into a new seat
I can see new hairdos
Jawbone and snood
My posture is heavier to bear today
It trembles with the local earth
As the receptionist skips
Like the rare sunflower skipp'd
A new store opens and the police are present
Same old same old
Cup hold cup hold
We are in the hands of a business district
Triad society
Up earliest, out latest
They don't look at passers-by
They instead goof and if they are lucky
Break windows of safe glass
They bare ageing shoulders
They expose the novice's
Bronze solution

Write to at least
The drinkers of perry, the many
Hostile people i've worked with
Their raillery...their undoing
These sisters insult the sisterhood
And i am tight like that
I comply only with a trade wind
How often i will look at
Sin and silliness
Improve my chances of fortnightly fortune
I will hunt a daily bride

Francis came downstairs
A lovely thing, thick set frame
Uniformed
She watched
Was smitten by her own smile
Etched on a glued slit and rattling
The Jewish
The fat men clustered
Around eatable tables
Were devoured by architecture
It looked serious like a progressive collapse
Indeed hands were cupped around hands
More often than arms were folded
Then suddenly the snuggery
Was obstructed
By the sweep of an arch
By a visibility poor

It branches out, the individual
Now in circuit
Cosmopolitania melts away
As the eccentric box dweller
Emerges in post noon heat with
Stench of denim and curled fringe
This prompts the concierge into
Swing, balance, quarter rotation
Here, odd is unwelcome
Like simian
Unless prehensile
With a squeegee
Only summer's dressing and
British pushers of pramulators
Are permissable in the upper crowded place
Obese normalizes and stress crystallizes
The brittle are not working that hard

Attention Stockholm
A voice-over calls
This bitch can wail from those
Far off plates
Your business class booties
Treadso carelessly
On the Warsaw
On the Tallinn
Itchy scratchy Christian sounds are

Drowned by the lawnmowers
Of Denmark
And other white tri-forests
We think about the sex lives and
The midnight sun
No doubt it is
Overcast on this p.m.
On this low anniversary
And so the child limbo dances
At the bureau de change
Office manager disapproves
Child stops, wide eyed and half stooped

Keep in touch with coral, the marrow
Allow spare wings like the champions
Of Equador
Totalisators and black stools
Table d'hote and stadia
These are the tools of the visiting officer
Consult the questionnaires, dissolve
The blue difficulties
The landscaping in life history
When you meet...
When we meet
Its arrival we greet by
Holdin' on to a dank stretched cave
It is Tuesday, it always is
Crystal payslips are discarded
A dust wind refuses to pick them up
We were full time as of
April
Before autumn found us in the solace
Of parties thrown by pensioners' groups and
Warring neighbours' differences
Over privet heights
My car number plate numbers...inky notes on manuscript
Are nonsense
I will never fight
For what is mine
Amount, quantity and load are defunct
Upon their documenting
I, assistant only to a detested surname
And an allowance made for grey gross partners
How often i am paid
To ease into gaze-aversion
To breeze past the ugly state green

Another day
Another grain
And the strain
On the internal factory
Is simple
Is bad back
I can't even bend down to pick up the pieces

One full hour to the watershed, just following orders
Am posted to bedrock, pillowplains
Private thoughts at last free to roam
Heart dilemmas and mind tremors
Continents shift from goodnight to guilt
Freedom sleep will follow
Goodbye to the bassinet today
Hello Doctor foreigner tomorrow
The cold hands, the enemy's search and destroy
Meanwhile, Tommy the old trooper
Rifles through the nation's laughter closets
Splits sides, tickles like a star
Jar spoon, spoon jar

Amidst flowershowers
Hard rain whipped by wipers and
Celebrity undertakers
We pause...for applause
We clap at the wake
A best friend, now only imagined
Rich, two kids, half the year on holiday...an Arabian fancy man
A best friend best forgotten
Why to die, we pay respects not due

She finishes at seven
Ichiban Ichiban
Stop it now
And lay the foundations
St. Patrick's day
Comes and goes
But goes more often
Fruit flies are
Persistant as ever
Less so than DJs
They talk about themselves a lot
Even the rubbish community is mesmerised
By MTV hip-hop and loadsasmooch
On a boring boring afternoon
One with plenty of time
To lay the foundations
To hate the effing adverts, yet
To stare at the effers
It's an irony, like
The isle of men and
Plates from Greece
The same from a distance

I have not received a prison sentence for murder
This intrigues me, does
This much divulgence
I shall not miss this journey

New York City jail
She feels sick
He looks sick in orange
The latest in a series of encounters
With the drink dependents
Which side of the highway
Takes me into downtown?
Guides me through the hours when i'm forlorn?
The down-and-outs are now
The up-and-ins
They miss not an opportunity
To lubricate vocal chords
To introduce themselves
I pray for trismus
And tetanus
An admission of abstinence
And periods of...
The last official day and
The certificate of completion
Now all we need is a mantlepiece

Doreen takes downers
Doris services apartments
Attends clinic
The Doc and Doris
Often partake in a parting drink and erm...
Sweden's scandecor, it's an old print
It's art therapy
The pictures are typically scenes of
Walkabout, grounds, badges, spare time
Departure, anger management, northern golfers
And no desire

These two...Philip 'n Cyril i call them
Are always here
Two boys' minds, one square metre
Bloody odd and quite frightening
An imbalance of fine threads
A spilt drink
Their planning threatens me
Or someone
So too do knee pockets
By my reckoning, they believe in comics
Or conspiracy theories
Or both
One stop is made
I pause in the T-position, listen carefully
Then resume bodily contact
At first, i misunderstood
Now, i misunderstand
No photography, but
This surgery is no looker
Popular leaflets offer the only sunlight
In a dry place
Then you arrive, in incredible style...
Do i encourage in you the pro-active?
Set in motion a long line of greetings?
Sandy for England
Sandy for England
The dropped glass
The post-chant
Sandy for the drop
Sandy for the chop
I need therapy
I need a garden state
I need television
I need educating
I need a baby doll that will scream in the early hours on medium wave and wake me from the council incentive, the nightmare

A disciplined group, testing
Assumptions, always
The first to speak
Hey Tigerella
The selection of struggles
Misery and delight and a bottle of
Vodka on a string and cooling beneath a sash window
An articulate lady's best friend
Work is her enemy
Her neighbour's jowels tremble
Not willing nor able
But regular...and that's a start
On soft cushioned chairs, how many times
Have arms of wood been touched, tapped in hope?
Familiar words
Yellow perfection

Make myself neon
Visible to the local, the mixed race
Elbow-test your guarantees and your warmth
A love for the exclusive operation
Dictates the route
Sequestered streets are planned
Homeward
On footache
On heartblisters
My coagulant is jobless
To give myself as neonate, is this needy?
I will grip your attention

Sometimes you shake me warmly by the hand
Despite poor circulation, cold digits
I like it
Today you didn't
You embrace only your reputation
In the company of hoteliers
Never mind, for now
We can focus instead on capital
Yet more wine and monitors
And i will pray for trismus
Christine still sparkles from a distance
Continental shoppers are rare
They hide subtlety
Or they talk at length about their problems
With a genuine bouquet
And jagged teeth
They question the gypsy also
And reflect on bad moth jokes
They despair at the newborn
At the centre of attention
They are absorbed in heat and holiday snaps
They wince in the high factor
As posters are floored
Too heady on the eyes
Too heavy to JC Decaux
And they will pray for regicide
Well it's just around the corner
Let's face it

Spare time and family
Puddles made by poodles too
Are in my control
Are quite difficult
We don't do high fives here
So stop it
We do Harvey Moon still
And as much as possible
And walks
And voluntary work
Self-reliance is an It job
As are routine, exercise and logistics
So stop it
Stop it now
Ditto ditto ditto