a shower of one summer word after another

humid mist, humid mist, blissful wince in the shower as the water splish, splashes on yesterday’s sunburn, sizzling pinches, hot rich breaths on my shoulders lounging, loafing, stuck by sweat on the leather sofa stolen from the street looking neat in my garden nestled between healthy nettles and the roses for cheeks on english roses, english noses which lead on, follow the leader leader leader to the park, to the grass which couldn’t be greener greener greener, its been a long time since I’ve seen ya, how are ya? I love ya, you’re my best mate, let’s kick it, great pass, fall on your ass, hysterical implosion, laugh, cackle, shriek, heaving deep as your back is mercifully broken by the weight of the world, food lover consumed in absurdity, satisfied sportswear punk, lucid drunk, naked lunch, glistening silver-plated ripped packet of wotsits, life-confirming fag drag wisps, plastic bag drifting free and content from somewhere heavent sent to somewhere half-spent in a sympathetic wind sighing despair, care, life and all it’s light and dark haired little boy giggles at a fart that his little mate donny done, that’s funny, everything’s funny really, you got any money? Dunno, probably, wanna go two’s on twenties are the best years a life you wanna lead according to this terrible magazine daydreaming pupils read, twenties are sold in 10-pound boxes which ridiculously detail how they help you pass away, twenties debaucery, the decade long party meant to be cautionary but lets throw that into a breeze mentioned in a distant memory, get carried like arrows in a parry, like a toddler with her whole life ahead of her giggling, kicking waddling legs in a swaddling blanket to sunbathers in brockwell park, to a tragic old rockstar in the elephants head, to dancing with a 6-foot model getting west in east, south london blunt chuffing rastas forking out for rum in spoons, to stars knifing the unpolluted cornish sky, to 5am bleary eyed holiday takers in gatwick’s Costa, to the sweaty musk on a runner running through dusk, gotta win, gotta be first, maybe I’ll just settle for seconds as vacuous as midnight promises between puppy lovers in pub booths bashing heads, nuzzling necks, twisting tongues to silently solve troubles time-trapped and tangled tongue twisters, tonsil tennis, 40-15, 40 loves a game we’re winning in 30-40 degree heat, its all good sport logos sported by good sports, good sorts, she’s a sort, she’s pure sauce, sorta broad I’d court woops caught short thinking silly thoughts I shouldn’t ought staring at her taut short shorts, stalk-like, bald-white legs out, thats alright, whoever you are, wherever you are in this whether to have a drink now or later, what’s later? Later is not now somehow but I don’t know how not now could every be found, conceived, seen by a minds eye blinded by cloudless light, like seriously what’s night? A friend I’ve known for years tells me its when you dream. Whats a dream? Not sure, probably something worth hoping for. Like what? I dunno, like right now, when hours taste like souffles, so sweet, sweet sweeties treat me to a torn up tongue humming an 80s tune, this is a tune, who are you? I love loving too we say with moistened eyes refracting fruit machine rainbows like dust dancing rays through a grubby, glass of water my booze decicated, emaciated, salt emaciated face reflects what it ought to, what is shouldn’t ought to: my rippling reflection burning as blisteringly true as cigarettes, a untroubling reflection which reflects a bubbling, blistering complexion swearing as clinically as tourettes that it doesn’t get better than this, this bliss, misty eyes, hot wet highs, mist, humid mist, humid humid mist from water which splish, splashes on yesterdays sunburn, sizzling pinches causing a blissful wince, what bliss, what bliss


fathers day

When a second lacks promise like 3.30am

And full days seem just as dark

What my dad did doth done teach me

Is stretch your legs and find a laugh.


A belly-bellow televised in Technicolor,

Uninhibited and gleeful like Spike,

Which fizzes and swirls and turns against the world,

Beating any sour, old Boycott for flight

yawn (suns of britain)

Wake up in the morning which opens up instinctively like your yawning mouth, trying to find air to breathe,

Phone on, turns south, screen beams screams back at you

No new news story, same old Tories, getting gory, that Trump’s a chump, a C-U-N-T (cunt), bring back the fox hunt! Brexit, we’ll make a mess of it, Great Britain’s glory is a boring part of history, the future seems to be nothing to do with me and what I believe in,

I’m scared

You’re scared

The sportswear punk’s yawns are like flares that no one else is seeing, that no ears hear

No ears hear the searing sips of bargain bucket beer I take in my garden between screaming-“fuck it”-sighs which evaporate hot, clear tears streaming, thundering, from cheek to chin to shoulder like transparent boulders

Because the sensitivities of those near, far and wide are older, colder, clamping shut their eyes, closing their minds to remember golder times, “the golden days” – give me a break

I’m scared

You’re scared

Unprepared for World War 3 when it’s declared by ignorance with bloated guts, skin like pus, silly haircuts, silly haircuts

But. But.

But you can finish up your yawn

Bear your teeth like thorns and grit them

The anachronists can look back and sit and remember – but we can stand up and dream about forever,

Let’s sever old-rope ties, expose lies, empathise, sympathise with the young, old, black, white

Let’s wipe away the sleep in our eyes and use our time to make something of our lives

Let’s feel the suns that shine, the suns of Britain.

So finish up your yawn

Bear your teeth like thorns and grit them

We are the suns of Britain.

We are the suns of Britain.

love letter

Dear anna (or is it bella?),

I’m writing you this letter

Cos I know I’ve got no stamps

Whilst you dance with your key

In the heat of post teen steam,

I sit, sip, soak like damp

As if you’re Woolworths pick’n’mix

Stupid boys steal teeth and lips


I wonder what could have been,

Maybe you dream, same as me,

Anyways, yours faithfully, Tommy B

ur boring get used to it

Half cut, half spent, half heaven sent in the gents, 50 cent, in da club, in da bar, am i in mars? catch my breath in tar, having fun is hard, having fun is hard

That sounds nice but through barred teeth I admit its not me now,

Chow down on the realisations rattling round my brain:

You’re not the same

Love’s an end game,

Club’s are always a shame,

My lion, with its heartshaped mane, firy crown, roars heartache to an earless town,

He’s lame,

Might aswell be tame,

I’m lame,

Pretty much tame

Anachronism, 80s television, third way myopisism, liberal utopianism, led zep are brilliant, the smart phone is a villain, 12 pence in a shilling, if I met the it-man, I’d imagine I’d kill him, I’ll never be the it-man, which is just as well, cos I’d kill him


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Caaaa.s.s…..ntntbbtbt wrfiifittddfeee,,.,., whhhygyyyyyyyyyuyyyyyy not???+/? I mmm mnpot drunbhhkkiii ,-,-/-/// iiiiiiiii saaaaannmmmmm kjussdt wwewuithin ft he ddsepthds fpofffff hell hell hell

I’ll tell you whats what

Hells not hot, its cold

Its a block, block of ice

With my body frozen in it,

Anything nice suspended like christ on the cross,

Tryna cross tees,

with fingers froze in the freeze,

Is impossible

Fires feels far away,

In Another place, tomorrow, yesterday,

They’ve flamed, They’ll splay and spit without mercy, burning me, burning you

Teeth will clamp shut tight, fists will fight, throats will cry, flesh will bubble, skin will tear, there’ll be sweat, life and death, I’ll swear, I swear the night’s sterile dark will run away into daylight, daylight, daylight, climb, clamber, unhampered, unhindered, release me, release me,

But no but no because right now the cold is everywhere

I’m trying to gasp for oxygen

Trying gag at the tastelessness on my tongue

Tryi.ng to cry

Trnmying to sss.mile

Trgguhying tytto4 oooshiveerr

Tr….r..y…yyiiingngn tr..f.gtiing trddying trttoooppp B.bbreeeeeeeeeeeeeeee sossm6eeon.,,,,,,e

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Grab a pint or three with g, he’s a g,

cant you see mate, you’re more than alright, you’re great

But I hate, how I hate, I hate it all, I feel nothing at all, all’s awful, all the present does is mourn for a dead past, a terminal future, paralysed paralysed,

But its not dying, its not dying, what else is there but trying, plying a trade, laying down slates of concrete for the middle-aged middle-class,

A farce! surely?!, a boring existence, a life for fools and horses trawling up to never-near, always-far, relentlessly hard

Of course its a farce but you’ll be laughing all the way to the grave as long as you know you’re okay, you’re good, you you you

Me me me, I I I, self self self

Yeah and help yourself

I can only play the cards ive been dealt, dealt myself, friends with parasitic mental health, cowering like children under the shadow of wealth, being beaten by a belt held by a headmaster with an instagram smirk, diamond-plated teeth, donald trumps wig, Kim Kardashians arse, eyes which burn harsh and green as money, green as envy, skin that flickers the Technicolor vomit of the telly

But you’re a man, a man, be a man, damn damn god damn, damn god, he’s too busy plotting to take note of your plan, cmon cmon cmon tom, for fuck sake come on, fuck him, fuck his grin, fuck him

Yeah fuck him

And fuck them too

Its all me

Its all you

Stay free, stay free, drink this with me, we’ll clash with the crowds, we’re out on the town, we’ll burn it fucking down

to a cinder


A new day and my phone tells me its warmer

I’m wearing last nights tshirt still

I sniff it but the acrid smell of last night doesn’t pang my nostrils

I reach under and put my fingers in my armpit but they’re not dampened by sweaty syrup

I go to move

But the sheet.s stick to me like plahhster

Lghike a vip?scous sno,,//w

Wih_jyhbgt6676/////sh no hdis@@@@<$<$]|¥¥¥¥hhhgaqqpzxviwhe no ahaia¿¿¿¿:-):-):-):&;:3+iwb no I wont, I wont, I wont

Instead I’ll read back on these words I wrote

And feel the heat of the anger they seethe

Instead I’ll read back on these words I wrote

And melt, and melt, and melt the freeze


Always told “you can sparkle if you go for it”

That seemed boring so I had more fun

But what exactly do I have to show for it?

What exactly is it I do did done?

Maybe that’s just depressive

Diamond boy momentarily dirtied by mud

Maybe my eyes still shine, so impressive

Once cleaned by a best-mates hug

But right now the future seems blanker than black

My fig tree already poisoned and old

Too late to escape my house, semi-detached

Too late for this lump of coal