A rebel without a clue.

On the road home I pop in to step around Delayed accord Peace between dreams Muddy tread! Some buckthorn soured device. Another bearded Fool Plays random LP. He's not interested! Because no one listens In. And, out of his time, Two suggest something like Caring? But they've borrowed looks Bothered before being And fingered a wilting crust Mouth bound. No track skipping Beats. Gone where the road grows Narrow. There is no force at work Girls pneumatic chased Towards implicit doom. Yawn, My own deviation dragged Me forthright and carried me, Chin first, where My life screams: No!

Feeling the end is near The rest I had today sunk me Towards the true light Where none of this pain strikes Little more waiting And less pain forming There is a Spanish enclave Never once spoken of Up upon a mountain, I sigh to tread, Another path Where you is lost And I am found. To find the me Hidden in the dust Scratched below the dirt Blown under those silicates Between beetle battling grains And the warp of wavering life, Overwhelming dessicate, But shining through! It gleams And suggests fault free Inspiration. Justice stands Apart these Untrue visions Disgracing me And all I see is myopic Triste; begone! In uncharted ways Be brave and step forward Youth in spirit Blithe and totally Corporal; alive!

It could be worse? The town of my formation. Kills me Off. It's probably necessary, because it's driven me to anonymity. And the kind of look I think suspects get? All for dog shit And all for a left bag of dog shit. It's welcome and despised.

Can anything be truly described? Language is an approximate thing. Florid words, a simile or metaphor Alternatives struck from a Thesaurus ... To be a witness doesn't require requisition. Yet we are very wordy persons Where quantity and quality are licked.

A great day. No idea what to expect. Frightened of the size of the arena and the number of people in that narrow confined space. Explained me to the people meeting and greeting. They assured me if anything was needed only to ask. The Ashes. First time I've willingly gone amongst crowds and crowds. Got into the party atmosphere. Threw red wine all over the couple on the row in front of me when I took part in the "stand-up" chsnt spreading from the Western Terrace.

Chaos Disorder Not belonging Towers pointing. Pavements brutalised Paper dropped reckless McDonald's mustard Fag ends, disproportionate. Splattered chewing gum Dust fallen on a Disregarded world Fires burning, Cigarettes harming Look at this? No lichen crawling Only hands scrawling. Pretend to sweep And polish the thoroughfares. Respect? Aretha Franklin... And I feel nothing but barren. Hopeless. But wasn't hope in Pandora's box? Pessimistic. I am a half empty person. But the GP says "don't let the bastards grind you down!" Throw me a buoy before I sink.

Morning breath (I yawn) While a thought malingers On supper's recall. Another night's over, As coffee steams And crème creeps, Before the daily grind. On Infirmary Street, Facing eternity, Drudged with nonsensical pills. Observing footfalls On demented faces; Chasing fleeting ideas - So hastily departed! Seeking a future free of strife, Yet immersed in routes of Death, Marching to a predictably hollow beat; Untrue, Feet follow feet. Confused before a dreadful image Afraid at the total lack of control; Blinking back tears, All I ever do is join the line!