The shirt was white-flowered blue with paler cuffs and collar
Crispy salad and crunchy cheese
Cold boiled new pots. and huge old ham
Making sure the home-made lemonade is keeping cool
With regular bathroom calls for personal appearance checks
When at the door to admit her, a blob is spotted
A breakfast blob below the collar
Turned out she was into S & M
Adrian Spendlow
.
Aloud and Wild
I cry
I cry who I am
I cry
Adrian Spendlow
.
Nothing More
A friend who loves
I know
And am understood
There is
Nothing more
Adrian Spendlow
.
Galvanised Experience
We weave back into the past of reality
For this is more set in stone than actuality
The happenings of the happened must have their glory
Nothing of the now is as real as the story
Blind to the flowerings of the rockery
Present view point forever slippery
Adrian Spendlow
.
.
Upon a time…
There once were children
Until imagination
Took them to an island
Where inner callings
Turned them into tribes
Happy they were in pretence
Except that –
Something happened inside
A darkness overcame them
They writhed
Hearts heaved
Other ancient aspects of them
Steadily started to rise
Something monstrous
Arisen
As one, they wizened
Scaled and fearsome
Winding wildly
Onward
Moving gruesomely on
They have become
A…
Dragon!
Adrian Spendlow
.
.
I Was That Janitor
I was abducted by aliens
Abducted
Examined
Stimulated
Tickled
They took me in their
Metal ship
They stripped me with their
Metal probes
They fed me with their
Metal chips
They thrilled me with their
Metal nodes
Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha
Abducted
It was smashing
And they had
three of everything
They took me
OOOOOOOOH
They took me
from this place
This paltry earth
Did what they did
Then
They
Brought me back again
It’s true
I know
It happened to me
They brought me back
To the exact same place
At the exact same time
But they wiped the memory
From my mind
But I had had a
premonition
That I was going
I know
The question on your lips is
When……
It happened in the middle
Of this poem
Adrian Spendlow
.
.
Kick
The myth of magic speaks in this
The embodiment of solid stillness
I have walked in fungi forest
In it’s secret oozing silence
All around the lake
Everywhere a brooding, living beauty
And it spoke
The runes ran thick
Quick the age old message
From root to stick
Oh the air
It was in the very air
A sporeform finger
Investigating
“Get out”
“Go away”
“Your not a growing thing”
I felt the sickly sing-song sting
It’s clamping, poly-primal cling
It threatened me with everything
And so I ran
Pale blues – Limes –
The palest shade of pink –
Spotted scarlet sporting spots –
Balls of pustule puffing putrid stink –
I ran past parasols that turn to ink –
Penny Bun Balletes –
A tree, – no longer visible
I hear the age old message
Air so liquid thick
They tell me
Just what I should think
I understand
And so I ran
As planned
Adrian Spendlow
.
.
The Strength of Strangers
A witch may wish
Or visit here
Bringing upon us
News of her wisdoms
Ravens may fly here
Foretelling of arrivals
Ships can be seen afar
Fires will burn
Hot and sudden: red
All will ready
Arming themselves
Forging an iron resolve
Death or glory
Farm safety
Depends, it seems,
On bloodied victory
Our history however
Echoes a message,
Sometimes
Those apposed to us
Can be traded with
Adrian Spendlow
as Skald
.
.
Times
I rise above
I lift
I like to be
I roll without knowing
I should know
I should
I am the news
The disaster
The fascinating
The moment
And the fall
I rise above
Adrian Spendlow

The long dusk; the low sun
Before Autumn twilight
All golden now
Adrian Spendlow
.
.
As there is this Me Too thing going on at the moment I thought I would reblog a couple of my survivor poems (from a forthcoming book)…
Soul Property
These little subtle things of hate
Somewhat less often of late
The trick is in anticipation
Playing upon preoccupation
Returning to times in memory
(Unaware of victor’s glory)
Which hurt beneath the levels of aware
To always inside still be there
Recollection ever present
Something of self is rent
Quietly said, privately spoken
Hit and hit again upon the broken
Words quietly said, privately spoken
Hit and hit again upon the broken
All time lost to anticipation
Adrian Spendlow
.
.
I used to perform this one with a blues band…
DEEP IN THE NIGHT
Deep in the night I just want to cry
The rest of the time
There are things I am after
Reaching
To be – What I’m driven to be
But just not being up to it
Leaves you inadequate
Deep in the night,
When I touch the unreachable,
That’s when the heart is,
Wanting to cry
Then a mask falls
I’m living – and fooled into being –
Happy – Go lucky – Hardworking – and me.
Believe it.,
“There’s nothing to stop you”
“You are who you are”
Deep in the night I just want to cry
Passion and pleasure
Fulfilment, procurement
I can do it. I can make it. – Keep my wolf away.
Sensuality saves you – you forget you have feelings
Even inner peace, on the odd time I achieve it,
Rankles, on my heart, as merely a sham
Deep in the night,
I hear,
Deep in the night,
So clear,
Deep in the night,
Comes the echo,
“Just what is you justification for being on this planet”
Damn! It’s a voice! I can hear it.
And sometimes I buckle
Tortured for the moment and blind to the dawn
Deep in the night sometimes
Deep in the night I just,
Deep in the night when I falter
Deep in the night I just want to cry
Adrian Spendlow
.
.
And an old fun one from back when I smoked…
Jelly Baby Continuum
OH OH Out of Rizlas Out the house Corner shop
Oooooooo Jelly Babies Mmmmm Scoff
All the way back Home Empty pack
Time For a fag Out with the baccy Rizlas
Reach in pocket OH OH Empty pack What!
Er Jelly Babies Scoffed Packet in pocket
Cig papers…. In bin Damn Back to shop
Ooooooo Jelly Babies
Adrian Spendlow
Here is the previous collection
And here is the last magazine type blog I did…
Do buy the guy

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