When I'm old I'll let my garden grow
I'll let the trees grow tall as skyscrapers
And I'll wait for the machete on the patio
Or in the frozen aisle, or in the newspapers
I'll let my garden grow











Photo: Kampa Dzong, Tibet [1904] John C. White [RESTORED] (CC BY 2.0)

Garden (demo)

On the first day
Of British Summer Time
It was blowing something awful
And bruising up the sky

The rain it was expected
So I took the District line
Raced the weather to the east
Climbed the steps and stepped outside

The air was pregnant heavy
All attendants held their breath
I stood waiting for you, lover
Above the brass and concrete steps

The white clouds shifted tidal
Market awnings flapped like sails
Like so many doomed vessels
Before the coming of the waves

All around me swimmers
Seeking shelter from the flood
I had not felt a single drop
Before a field of black bloomed up

The quickest found the cover
As the deluge met the street
Still I waited for my lover
To come on home to me

Now the road it was a river
And the current swept me up
But I rooted myself firmly
Nothing was strong enough

And my clothes were weighing heavy
And I felt them bring me down
But I refused to buckle
I refused to drown

Down there on the floodplain
Where London was first reclaimed
I stood waiting for my lover
In the driving springtime rain


Photo by Arthur Laidlaw (www.arthurlaidlaw.com/)

Floodplain (demo)

From writing sessions for the play Spindrift by Curious Directive

Photo: Frankreich: Luftaufnahme von Nizza, 31 January 2016 (CC BY-SA 4.0)

Pilot Light

City night skyline, an off-black darkness
It was the night of the living bastards
And all around me all I saw
Was our schoolchildren fleeing for holy war

Every inch of being was split into two
The worse for me and the better for you
So much humanity so close to home
The cross and the crescent, the blood and the bone

Oh concrete raft, let us run off our course
A trouble is coming, hurricane force
Each new election brings worse surprises
I'll leave you my kindness as the wind rises

I'll hear of no evil, I will speak of none
I'm standing for nothing until I see something done
Slide out to the suburbs, we white rageful mob
The global elite, the fire squad

Let the river burst open
Let the banks follow suit
Let's roar like we are thunder
Make the concrete ground move
But don't fuck with the message
Don't you stray from the line
Don't forget what you are made for
Eat sleep repeat and die

I can't believe the shit I read
Makes a paranoid twitching wreck of me
Anaesthetise me and my family
Wake us up when there's certainty

Artwork: detail from Anton Windmaier - Eislauf und Pferdeschlitten auf einem zugefrorenen Fluss

Paranoid Twitching Wreck

All Your Dreams Are On Their Way

Artwork by Max Pevsner (http://maxpevsner.co.uk/)

Photo by Arthur Laidlaw (http://www.arthurlaidlaw.com/)

Xul

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