further speed-written songs...

work in progress...   1st draft poem then poem-song..
title:  Out Out Out
there was no terror felt that Saturday night
Because we felt pain, we had to sleep till
midnight ended
and eyes must shut
and skies must send clouds to sleep.
the rider selling papers posts flags to
mad boys who like junk-mail
and there was no terror that Sunday night;
and eyes must shut
and skies must cover clouds with light
because we like cake and because nuts
can cause a fatal allergy
because wheat is capable of killing
we when cooking
must surely bake resins; and ceilings
fall from afar
and bakers bake for mirrors
there was no terror felt that Monday
there was no error in the light on day
and a car of iron
crashes, crashes
wide of the city mark, sad men pray
once, lost, i leapt from a city wall
and the roads were ridden with walls
and easy bikes hit me
o   a car of killers crushed me;
and once, while chopped, i heard need
begging at death's doors
ideal women wed excellent men and
ideal children are devoid of sex hands
and a wetted weeping old boy
shops for little infant toys
the crying in the church of Love has
dead eyes for Gods
o a marvelous communion of Loves
listens to j christ's cross when drugs
poison chapels with iron dogs.
weeping, i saw my favourite boy
dying for God
and i know that God was an evil God
and the sadness of man Man raises sods
and a sea of bananas uses lost
wagons; and fruit and veg swab
green grocers with two pealed bananas
and eyes glow for mown
pure pineapples.
i went to the shops to buy some shoes
i carried the right money
The fingers of paid money dons shoes
and we paint fine footed city pictures
/oh a lemon meringue dessert features
good tv chefs where coooking mixtures
serve cruel food.
i went to the shops to purchase glue
o i carried the correct small change
The riders of the rain suffer hot moods
and we cry, cry,
outed, an outelbowed sea of violence
heeds blue films
and ice cracks for sex screens and
odes to sexy silence
stop stone dead..
i went to the shops to buy some shoes
i had my right money stolen;
and reapers of night bear suede shoes
and sadness pushes through
the razors in my home are never stored in the bathrooms
Because blades slip,
i have decided to cut my lips
and there is a woven mouth which wanks in schoolrooms
and de razors in my home
cut a keen cheek and run dry.
these lost days where i count on day-time sleep have
endlessness for an urban dream
and eyes in my head tend to glow like the dead and
i am surely deafened by sinned easy spies
the razors in my home are always stored in the bath
oh, sun-shining bathroom mirrors
drop in the tub
and easy-turning taps trickle, trickle, trickle;
o, bed and board ends in fatal sex?
there is to be found, underneath a typical road,
tarry pipes chock-full of toads
and there is to be found, inside a main road,
a sewer filled with rats, bats and rogues
o is it more that the idiot words i speak
send all clean gutters into deepening sleep?
i raise an eager hand to the moon where
old lovely stars look down
and a river of sand flows from hands where
the afternoon moon falls like a saint
and saints are always painted?
there is to be found, beneath a radial road,
dirty pipeworks, chock-filled with clothes
and these clothes have been chucked down
a filthy coprotic city of drains
and a river of sand flows like veins
because the dying world hears old pain
desiring the same old plasters as usual
because the crying world hears cold pain
requring the same old doctos as usual
we must raise the real Titanic and rain
Out Out endlessness
come drink some wine when feeling death
o out, out, out
..dustiness always need sweeping
 sadness always causes weeping;
Out Out endlessness
come drink some wine when fearing deaths
the tablets i own are always stored inside
a kitchen cabinet
and i seldom use medicines, but lies
have been using paracetamols now- ..
the daughter of my grandfather uses
self-abusive kiddy toys
and the tops Mum knits makes soft-toys
and because children grow
and because women glow
we have to snuff out all human angels
Out Out aimlessness
come brew sex brine whilst stealing breath
o out, out, out
copyright jdb 2020
work in progress:      1st draft poem then song-poem
title: malt loaf
and a living girl has entered into my town,.
While boiling eggs, i toasted food as sound
sang inside my ears
and a living girl has entered into my town
the oatmeal i eat at dead of night has a
body made from porridge pasts
and the girl in the park whispers in the dark
and the oatmeal i chew most nights marks
huge cities with birth-marks.
o a living girl has entered into my room.
While frying eggs, i have chewed on hewn
malt loaf
and a the muesli i eat when sleeping spoons
canned meat from honey.
where hispid hair cannot be cut correctly
where vanished air cannot appear
inhaled, we have the right to shed tears
and I stride across a dangerous road
and i fall to the city earth
a ship of keen sailors sets sail for a
good country where baking fish
harden fishing tackles
and my head of hair cannot be cut because
a head of hair like mine
is to bloody thick it has no way to
go bald.
where a bed is well slept in
where a shed is filled with paint-tins
where a sweaty gardener spins then
a pillow made from pure silk sends
good dreams to all good men.
i have vanished now
i have vanished into clouds
my obese old aged bloody body
listens to cold aged bloody honey
and i spread old jam on old bread.
Eyes must go entirely blind.
Ears must flow when deaf.  Minds
go sadly mad
and a vast rose garden picks sad
daffodils with two keen hands
hereabouts, everyone uses a
hard hammer.. Oh, on a islands
we lounge in the chilled sun when
fag-ash drops from soft smoke
and we will surely never see again
the old girl who dies forever
a garden of daisies plucks buds
a garden of rubies
is filled with excellent lawns and
i have grown ruddy fat
and, ah, i have always stroked cats
and, uh, my penis pokes a capped
lively woman
the ten toes i dare not lose walk
one billion miles then stomp
and ten fingers on my two hands walk
ten billion miles and then
lights light up as my lover loves talk
everybody is on the street
everybody has a transit full of sleep
and a car on the drive
has vans in the drive
and everybody is on the street
O, dead life seems sweet?
the cyclists who fell and died
cycle on a dying street.
I have rode a wagon to the sky
I have mounted trikes as old lies
speak from the street.
the girl in my home has no mind
the girl in my home
cleans the floors and drinks win
and me and my father
sweat for lovely eager mother
everybody is on the street!
i went to the shop and bought some buns
i sent cakes to a distant lover
and, faceless, i purchased a hot gun
i went to a market and loved the sun.
Bad shoppers bustled too much
Sad shoppers did not buy too much
and i went to the bakers
and paid for a cake
ah  me and my father dislike rape
ah  me and my sister
despise plastic snakes
and windows open out as sills
are hammered into a fake heart
I went to the fair and listened to
the carousels and the cakewalks
and the mirror maze and the huge
fascinating Big Dipper
and windows open out as hills
shine beyond windows
and my manse is being bulldozed by
bright loud lovely radio..
when walking in the park, i espied
some very badky disabled children
coughing sick and then i saw the sky
fall into the trees
I went to my car and tested the
radio therein
and i used full-leaded petrol to fill
a tank with cleansing diesel
and i drove and drove and drove
back homeward
when walking on the sun, i espied
idiot tabloid papers
and i arose from bed to see eyes
crossing under fevers
there is no street for the killed
there is no good vans here
and we walk from sleep to find fear
cutting tears from hot rain
i once saw a sinner in an RC Church
confessing lies to holy men
i once saw a killer in a house of sin
killing the sun with the wind
and the cars which drive in the wind
collide with naked fools
and a road of naked fools will grind
huge cars down to nothing.
we have a hold on this wide world
we have a hold on a house of pearls
and because we have good girls
donning easy grins
we must drink good gin and swirl
around and about a town of pearls
i once saw a sinner in an RC Church
confessing lies to cold vicars
and a sea of hands lays hands upon
old kids and dropped green knickers
me and a fine female farmer stuns
mad meadows and heaped fields
today, just now, i went into town
and there i saw pedestrians in heat
who seemed very tired and in need to sleep.
Yesterday, i laughed at a clown.
Next year, i shall hope for plate of wheat
the baby in its buggy falls apart and neat
infant cradles are
rocked, rocked
and a baby in its huggies must hear sound
swinging from deaf record machines
today, just now, i went into town
and there i saw tourists under sleep
crying because they just couldn't understand
the time and the place of
the English lovely tongue
the world is here outside high windows
the whirl of hot tears
spins as hot tears trickle
down my odd face where easy muscles
pump, pump
when eyes intend to close,
i will eat into skies and smell a rose.
these fine days where lay down my cat
a sunny summertime strokes my pet rat
and a tree is scaled
and bees build honey
and fine evenings are spent where bats
terrify kids no more.
I have sown garden seed
I have owned gardens, and my sleeve
is secretly filled with hemp
and my frontyard has no car
but my rosebed appears to drive
endlessly, where green buds thrive
these funny afternoons where i feed
batty, poverty stricken kids
then i cook buns for poor hard pigs
and a veiny van inside the moon
raises kids from happy tunes
and i sweat and sweat
I have sown garden potatoes when
a disposable barbeque cooks dead hens
oh a fitted kitchen
comes home to a smoke-alarms
and we cook eggs
and we make good beds
There is nobody in this frontroom
there is no-one here
and i fear the oven in my home may
well catch alight
Ah, there is nobody in life's tomb
Ah, the times are certainly midnight
and i have always kept apples and plums in a keen fine fruitbowl
and i have always wept
and i have certainly never slept
and i have always kept apples and plums in a keen fine fruitbowl
and a local fruiterers
serves swift pears and easy bananas
o eyes roll up, up inside my head
o eyes toast blind cuts as a green grocer who sells cherries
sells cabbages and peppers to cool ladies.
this street i walk hides many fascinating mysteries..Oh
i stride down the stairs where daddy
once pushed me in a buggy
this street i walk hides endlessness and a motorway
causes insant high-speed driving
and a house of cards deals a king of hearts as day
heeds night..
there is situated in my back garden some turnips
there is situated in my front garden
a bed of potatoes and tomatoes and berries,
and as i dig the garden for my family
and as i crop chilled wild wheat
i must drop a spade and listen to pruned
dizzy city rot
my eyes rot in my head as easy secateurs
chop all lovely trees down
and i am left here in my brutal hometown!...
copyright jdb 2020
work in progress:  1st draft poem then poem-song
title: The Route to My Demisal
the route to my mental life has to
dote on oats and grapes.
Death is my father
Sex kills my mother
and the route to my mental life has to
swill down pills and potions
i heeded cars and tried to drive one
but i failed life's test
and cried in the chapel
and the pills and potioms of love
adores me and makes apples
thrill my very soul
the route to my mental life has to
drink blue pop and certainly blue
lunacy makes me a bed to
sleep well upon
and i love to sleep upon
matresses of pure fire
o, does lady death don an apron?
i have heated some mean mead wine
i have searched for a dream
i have suffered drunken glamour, and
minders for screens
unravel into minds
and i have swallowed some lovely malt
and my wife lives on an island.
the route to my survival leads cars to
speeding vans that travel into bruised
and a bench in a park seats confused
city trades
and the route to my survival raids
ruins and hot graves
ah , a kitchen has to own a blender
ah, a chicken rots somehow for
underbellies; and fortunes of war
send ballrooms to fast sleep, and
i candify the killed
and i sweat upon milled lovers
the sunrise has gone away for now
the winter's grasp has burned somehow
and a playhouse darkens
all theatres
the swallows in the roof have been
gassed and thrown away
the gallows in the boot have been
smashed and hanged today
a fattening vast meal has trades
losing coins to pounds
and an urban mask covers slaves
and swallows in rooftops
have been stopped
ideal brothers embrace us all
ideal fathers dance, and we
fall imto a city sun
and the birds in the attic sprawl
under mouse-traps
oh timeless faces fall for walls
and this house hits four walls
and i walk and then hit the wall
and my head has no real walls
a fattening full fast meal rots
brains and veins and body
and we strap saps around cots
and we die...
the key to my demise has no face
the sea of my eyes has no place
the tree of my mind
falls to cremation when
a vast bird of sleep listens to wine
and my head swirls
and my body twirls.
once upon a mind in a fast mind
an eager blue titan grasps for girls
once upon a soul, a sad mind
stopped to fall asleep
and my head swirls
and my babe dons curls
the key to my dun guise has no world
the sea inside death's drive
drowns all cars
and we know the rider on his rise
above road-deaths where wives
swallow guns.
the seasoners of saviours swipe
green gas from flagons
and we wash hands when dragons
drink blonde wine.
dangerous sailors sail upon dangerous seas
dangerous failures wail upon
coded waves
dangerous creatures sail upon danger
and we cut sea-fingers with
hot obsidian knives
and we cry for lies
and we force-fuck imprisoned skies
a figure of evil heats a pan of milk
a river of seagulls
turns up gold gas where soft skulls
come deeply
and we underframe worldy milk
and we christen cold baby.
dangerous sailors sail upon dangerous seas
dangerous killers wail inside
ashen decks
o   a tribe of thieves listens to tides
and a boat of pigs
oinks at drinking wide tides
once upon a sphere, i saw grey wives
divorcing all famous partners
once upon a fear, i cried for wives
but i came on back home to find
a false wife and spastic microphones
and then i was left alone?
a coldframe of evening hastens us
to abolish trees with old sawdust
and because we are killers now
and because we hate rivers now
we must learn about sawdust
the easy riders who ride until dead
have invented some safe good mopeds
easy rivers which carry bikers tread
excellent road whizzers
and i am led to sleep
and i am left to reap
and grey canyons reveal caves when
gay killers kiss a fast grave.
easy pin-ups on winter walls will send
diamond gods to heaped
motels; and hotels provide chalets
and hostels devise a clean bed for
old vacated children
the easy drivers who dream of sex
crash against huge walls
and a doll of nudes pictures wet sex
and a church of stalls
hastens to grey prayed sex
a body of bells rings a tocsin when
vital hymnals arise for Jesus Men
and a good blessed vase
is filled with peppermints as glass
is filled with a sea of card
easy devisers of night and day pass
salty hands upon beds of grey
lost wallets
and we pay for lust
and we pray for dust.
the key to my revival lists a reel of lies
the treetop where i tongue-kissed
naked lies
has my penis skinned of sexed lips
and men and I hiss across fierce lips.
beccause we always loved xmas
because we always paid for gifts
because we forever loved de business
we must weave a keen present
for men and hens.
the key to my demisal hits dyed eyes
the summit of my survival
loosens flowers from keen vast skies
and pained rain
rocks my sweated heart.
a blown hirsute bomb atomises us
a flown sex-boot nukes white dust
and an ant upon a nested tray has musk
raging in a rill of cake-crusts
and we toast old breads
and we will bake fast buns
and we shall forever taste sweet guns
the key to my mistress hastens to
a hanger of whoredom
the sleeves my sadness listens to
a minder of murdered fortune
and a bay of kids drinks waved nudes
and hedonists nuke burned tides
lives run naked through the eyes
skies thrum
and a boney body sees eyes
and a scented book of flowers
leads a sweetness under guns
the rider of my bed dreams for
wide eyes
and the slaved city's dream-store
sells porn to brides
lives run naked through the eyes
skies lunge
and a hollow dude rips eyes
and exhaling old lungs
pant for fierceness
the painters of my ultimate death
crowds my face with lotions
the saintedness of a grey death
clouds high space with potions.
lives run for lubes
wives caress lubes
and we dam emotions where death
drops graves down
celtic christs and holy ground
lives run naked through my eyes
lies cum for sacred clasped eyes.
Figures of fainters
taint turning papers
and i tread high water as we
thread a drowner's needle,
and ghosts spin
i have always loved god
but have never believed in god
la i have always like church flowers
la i have always liked harvest bread
but i have never found
a real christ or a real church-God
and i am madly in Love with sound
and i imagine christian wasteground
tends lovely blessed gardens?
the hiatus in my head plays at prayer
the harness round my bed
plots for churches swinging
and a stage of lions acts for prayer
and i have always liked God
but i have never received Lord God
ah, a painted altar under dreaming
dabs a haloed bully with
blue china and tait-and-lyle
and a cinema of angels sweetens
harvest festivals with gardens
and i have always loved Gods
but i have never summoned Gods
la la la la la ha ha hahh..
secret sacrements of blessers
wrap a tawny sheet about the dark
secretive porny padres
shed easy holy seed upon a parked
vicar's car
and we wipe dirt from our hands
and a funny funeral fashions stars
from easy cold-bedded disciples of
sacred coats and Josephian dogs.
i have always loved lady life
but i have never had much of a life
copyright jdb 2020
work in progress:   1st draft poem then song-poem
title: deaths dare not look for a finger
deaths dare not look for a finger.
lolled dark births fondle for riders

i took blu-tact. We will seek here
the ideal banging of a soft hand.

to escape above the earth is my
eager way to sweat under de sky

I get up from bed to reap lies
I summon birth. Oh eyes read minds
and mental visionaries

drop salad muck.

i have no mule, no calf, no baby
i jam a jazzy clave where odd Mondays
up-end a slaughtered chariot;

'o put your jam in wine,' she said when
the midnight river sailed for
cauterised mentalists whose children
filled sex with tears.

ten million easy birds skate across women,
and eyes snap..

there is a thralling lady here under every
falscap of bones and money.
You fish for mercy
I fish for nothingness, and vast honey
stills tears with gassed heat

rocking, a hive of heads sucks family
deeply down when
a wing of swallows sends
guilty cemeteries
back home, where a blue wren dies.

old lichen is folded in the mixed cavvies
of mictionary saved sex
and a van of throats pees upon daisies
at midnight, i we have to break both of our arms.
At turn of day, we have to shatter
old butter men with five coded fractured charms
and we farm for baby.

o we could drive around one zillion lost lives
o we could arise from
robotic radios
and we are sheared by natrons as walled guns
send slowing baby burners
to fierce dreams
we hold a false key to a locked high wall
we have heat to earn..
and a cigar of a sign turns rocks when balls
sends ashes to sleep

o a constant impassable teas-maid has hauled
incredible meats.

and we could turn this sea-shoal with engined hands
. Beside of me, a liberator of cum
haloes after a bedroom made from sand
and i feel lost without guns

a tomb of people waiting will surely mourn Pan
a wound of steeples
rises like a fire
and we shuffled down the hall where sex-pyres
have come to sweat forever
oh we could drive all year
ah we could abuse engines as curried tears
collide with moggies

And, whilst hiding in water, a dream of de bodies
has video for a digital soul..

sss a sister hisser pisses across pure ice.
Once upon a killer, we snapped blue night
and a dandelion of demure silk
spread-eagled a billboard with sour milk
at night, where cars glow, a sonic light
trips slowly down to a windowsill
and a right handed thief heeds bright
sailed wild weddings.

i am hiding all of my lifetimes
i am writhing
and because i am forever dumb then i
will powder tongues with denims
all mad men dream of Pan America
all clapped screens
cry for gems
and a petrol station built from dreams
drags lucent cars far, far away
O when my headache started, i was
sweeping impossible schoolyards

nuked stannaries of gold and silver
play dead for kids and wives.
Naked, a banging flame sees spies
spiralling unto endless milners
and a bay of kids uses light's old canteen
and we abuse a dolly dream

when a bud of mecanno carries eyes
down the stream where children die
we will learn of bums
and we will earn after cherry guns

the air is sucked like a stone.
Sunlight and starred heights groan for
nudies who ream grey tides with warred
picnicking closed canals
Ponds stare at the crowds
Suns scatter ships as a bend of shrouds
pees directly upon a spiraller
of dunny dweebs who mend de Father
outside those wicked lamps we find
a mouthed mount remainng
slapped to death with indecent minds
and we used a studio annal
and we noosed our blind city tunnels

o i have all of a sudden bathed my cock in brine
o, we had it all -  the crazy paving and red wine
and because we know nothing at all
and because we heed no way of yearning
we must chat with sleep where a glass hall
shatters like the rain

and you and i will certainly find mute pain
digging for austere sad sea minds
and you and i willl certainly feel for grey grain
o graven budgies swing, swing
and we are trapped in the shops of gin
If we bake a bone, we will have to pin
bakeries of loam with hard-jetted spun sin.

Moonlght fades into sadness..
ah, as i stare at a casino then shrift madness
will trip upon a doll's tongue
and a car of canes cries for a concertina
and the wodes of skulls hoop for failure
o i have all a sudden fallen into misery
and my mental traintrack trips for family
and eyes boom now just like lungs
uh  a rug of pine peers into apples
uh    a drug of twine eats into meadows
and a spool of dung heats harried cattled
baby sleevings

where those groovy bright labs of hair
chemically treat bald hair
then we will weep under wax
and a plumed city stair falls like the dark
and the idiots of the urbane parks
clean nylon teeth with pink plax.

o eyes seem lost without you..
o minds appear crossed by you;
and when 2 arms bear 9 hands then youths
may well linger in the pan..

i would have both my legs broken just for
the pitiful sense of a city
and 12 shot clams seize naves where de Lady
tree-hangs 1 million men with
spring cleaning narrowed bells as chimes
snap into the neighbourhood.

O for our 1 zillion girls we have saved
may the summers of the winter be raised
above a neon figure
and we are shuttered  under hands
and we are battered by both hands
i would not have both my legs broken
unless a fractured blessing in a saucepan
entreats me back home where green fires
cook cunt for kitchen clans.


jdb 2020