for PATTAYA TRADER 229 (D)

THE-NEW-STARRY-ROLES-ON-
THE-OLD-WORLDLY-STAGE
Who awaits in the wings
to speak for a new age?
As Shakespeare once wrote:
all the world's a stage.

A role-player I am, girl.
A role-player you are.
Who awaits to be born,
to shine briefly like a star?

SHE-SURE-HAS-DESIGNS-
ON-HIM-NO?
Mutton dressed as lamb,
but she is a winner
with the young guy
done up like a dog's dinner.

Ah yes she has the guy
slobbering at the chops
in that catwalk costume
now newly in the shops.

for PATTAYA TRADER 229 (C)

EVER-THE-PARTY-GOING-GUYS-
IN-EVERY-DANCE-NIGHT-TOWN
Drunkard Denis had a pal
who was a real party-animal.
This creature was called Chris
and he, too, liked to get pissed,
but also danced with dolls, dames,
birds, chicks, this cock whose name
the girls at the parties all knew.
They'd crisscrossed, a night or two,
his part of the partying town.
A hunk, a beefcake, he got around.
Yes got around, going far and fast
like a motorcar, although smashed.

for PATTAYA TRADER 229 (B)

A-MADE-OF-MONEY-ARTIST-
VERY-SOON-I-DOUBT
The guy says he's an artist
and won't get up and dress.
Wants a million for an unmade bed.
No he won't get out for less.

An unmade bed is art,
or so it would seem to some.
I hear there's an unmade bed
inside the Art Museum.

for PATTAYA TRADER 229 (A)

IT-IS-NOT-AGAINST-A-LAW
It's just a tussle
with a Jane Russell
in the stable's straw,
like with the actress
on such a matress
in The Outlaw.

RIOT-TURNS-TO-RUINATION-
SOMETIMES-SURE
You can't bed down in Bedlam,
in that place sanity is amiss.
You can go bed down, though,
in a grave in Necropolis.
Madness and Death, Madness and Death.
Hold onto your sanity, but don't hold your breath !

for PATTAYA TRADER 228 (F)

ALL-WORK-AND-NO-PLAYTIMES
You were so square
way back then.
Square as the Square Mile,
City of London.

You were no fun
nor were you fair,
though played with the wind
your yellow hair.

But that was then
and this is now.
In your middle-age
do you allow

yourself the fun
that you let pass by
when a young woman
far too busy to fly.

CRUMBS !- MEN-ARE-NOT-ALL-EQUAL-
AND-NOT-ALL-LADIES-TOO
You're nothing but a Minnie Mouse.
I'm taking the mickey. I'll leave you the house.
You're always pipsqueaking. You lack the height
of true nobleness and the heroic fight
(yet you women today claim equal rights !).

for PATTAYA TRADER 228 (E)

THE-UKIPER-SAID-THE-DOZY-SKIPPER?
The cat is amongst the pigeons.
The fox is in the chicken-pen.
You chose to call me cuckoo
when I said, way back when,
Nigel Farage heads for No. 10.

for PATTAYA TRADER 228 (D)

DARK-DEPRECATION
Charlie Williams, black Yorkshireman,
lived in Barnsley, a daring comedian.
Self-deprecated. It's very-few folk can.

SURELY-NOT-PERFECTLY-FINISHED-YET?
He who pens little
has got little to say.
Small spelling-errors
will be his too.
He will let life
get in his way.
Say he hasn't the time.
But that's not true.
Or say he's said all
that one can say,
with few spelling-errors,
far fewer than you.
This makes him perfect -
in his mind anyway -
and his pen's tiny-work
thus perfect too !

Correction: (below) 'MICKEY' and 'BARRELLED'.

for PATTAYA TRADER 228 (C)

AN-X-AS-A-KISS-I-SEND
A treasure are you
hidden from my view,
X marks the spot
where I finish with a dot.

THE-DOUBLE-BARRELED-BAD-BOY-
MICKY-CAINE-DAMN-RIGHT?
Maurice Micklewhite
is the real name
of the actor known
as Michael Caine.

Nude with a shotgun
didn't it tickle,
double us over
to think his white mickle

was symbolised
by the pointing gun?
Get Carter? We got it,
like we might a pun.

for PATTAYA TRADER 228 (B)

NOW-TAKE-CONTROL-SKIPPER-DO
Master of your own destiny
or slave to the destiny of another man?
Sail free, sail free. Sail free, sail free.
Don't bury your soul in the sand.

Master of your own desting
or slave to the destiny of another man?
Sail free, sail free. Sail free, sail free.
Of your own ship take command.

TWO-SIDES-TO-WARS
White-chicken-feather women
wanted men to take up arms,
protect them from the enemy,
pressed the feathers into the palms
of they who to fight refused.
War isn't one-sided. It takes two.

CALL-TOO-DAMN-COLD-SHE-
AND-HELLISH-HOT-I
She has the salad
with the tuna.
She hears me joke,
sees not the humour.
She eats the salad
but not the meat.
Green as the lettuce,
you are what you eat.

I eat my curry,
spicy and hot.
I joked with her,
she got it not.
Far too fussy
about the fish-meat
to get the hint:
I am what I eat.

"TAKE-IT-IT'S-YOURS-CUTIE !"
The ghettoes and the slums,
Hell's Kitchen-sinks, the scum.
The Bowery boys and bums,
the girls, their baps and buns,
sure hang out and hang around.
"You're welcome to this side of town !"

for PATTAYA TRADER 228 (A)

SMALLER-WORLD-IS-SMALL-COMFORT?
The longtailed-titmouse,
yes the longtailed-tit,
tinier than the wren if
not for its tail, it
builds a nest that's a feathery-ball.
Are worlds comfier when quite small?

REACH-NOW-FOR-FAR-AWAY-RAINBOWS
Larger than is life
let the verses dwarf
even the frost-giants
of the Viking-North,
and thaw their snow,
and melt their frost,
carve-up their ice.
Gods and fairy-gold are lost?

DREAMS-OF-THE-DICTATORSHIP-KIND-
HAVE-NOT-THE-WORDY-POET-I
There's the sort of artist
who is a natural-rebel born,
and there is the political-rebel
who is dreaming to conform
to a system of another kind;
no free-spirit, no free-mind.

IRELAND'S-GREEN-EYED-GIRL
She'd an Irish name
that meant elgantine.
Her grass-green eyes
gazed deep into mine.
Green as meadows,
green the girl's eyes
which gazed into mine
blue as were the skies.

for PATTAYA TRADER 227 (F)

STOOD-AT-A-DOOR-OF-
PERCEPTIVENESS-NO?
"A Verse Maker Be,"
so said the gypsy,
"anagram of your name."

"A Verse Maker Be,"
so said the seer, she.
A poet I sure became.

A gypsy was at the door
when I was only four
and at my mother's side.

"A Verse Maker Be,"
so said the girl to me,
foreseeing deep inside.

for PATTAYA TRADER 227 (E)

A-MAD-MONK-AT-ROYAL-COURT?
The mystic Rasputin,
he drank and danced.
It is said the Tsarina
by him was entranced
(and even romanced).

The Tsar's sick son
he was then to cure
when Russia's doctors
could do no more.

An end to the Family
he, too, foresaw...
the people sure rise
and Royalty floor.

The mystic Rasputin,
he drank and danced.
It is said the Tsarina
by him was entranced
(and even romanced).

for PATTAYA TRADER 227 (D)

COMMAND-LOVE-YOU-CAN'T-VERSE
She hates everybody EQUALLY.
At love she is inept?
Hating everybody EQUALLY
is she not Politically Correct?

for PATTAYA TRADER 227 (C)

THE-PAINED-PENHAND-HAD-THOMAS
The writer Thomas Paine
knew about Common Sense.
He tried to break the chains
bestowed by all governments.
He knew about the rights-of-Man
and let governors know via his pen.

AN-O-SHAPED-WORLD-NO?
Now the Story of O
I'll call Ladies of the Rings.
Otherworldly, or underworldly,
the music Orpheus brings
is of a sadomasochistic joy
jaded despots would deploy
in our world of cruel-sufferings.

FREEDOM-AND-BONDAGE
Maggie nor Madonna would do.
Neither did the ladettes, it's true.
Can fickle-feminists now feminize
and bind with their bras the guys?

for PATTAYA TRADER 227 (B)

THE FAR-OUT-FANTASY?
From balloon to Zeppelin,
Zeppelin to rocketship.
I await the flying saucer
to take me on a cosmic-trip.

Leave behind the aeroplanes,
and maybe too flying cars?
In a far-off, far-away future
shall we tour the stars?

for PATTAYA TRADER 227 (A)

GOOD-IN-BED?
You're naughty but nice.
Yes you're a naughty pleasure.
Yet nice girls don't do this,
or so the prudes gather !

THE LORD-BYRON-TYPE-POETS?
He was said to be outrageous.
Mad, bad and dangerous.
Then is it not damn ironic
the poet Lord's now iconic?
Such madness wasn't contagious,
though some are called Byronic.

SAILSHIPS-WE-PAIR-SURE'LL-BE-
SEASHORE-LADY
No ship with mast
nor with rigging,
but I've a bedroom
we'll call my cabin.

There we can lie.
Find no seabed,
yet it has sheets,
pillow for your head.

Ah Thai naga-girl
come lie with me,
we two will sail on
a sort of Siamese-sea.

for PATTAYA TRADER 226 (F)

DOGGONE-OLDEN-GRAMAPHONE-FOLK
'His Master's Voice'.
Trumpet-gramaphone.
Trademark dog.
Folk were not alone
when it came into play.
Every-domestic-dog-has-his-day !

FREE-FROM-A-FUN-TIME
It is not the words
but how they are spoken.
It is not the fun
but how it is poken.

Yet there are some
who are humour-free.
Strike us all dumb
seems their policy.

for PATTAYA TRADER 226 (E)

A-BRICK-BY-BRICK-BUILT-LOVE
Not the Yellow Brick Road
but in London's Brick Lane
the guy first was to meet
his bewitching girl Jane.

She was over the rainbow.
He just over the moon.
Not love at first sight,
but it was built soon.

THE-NOVEL-UPS-AND-DOWNS-
OF-THE-PIMP'S-LOST-WHORE
A pimp I will name Zola
had a pro I'll call Nana.
She climbed to the dizzy-heights.
With rich and famous spent her nights.
Cocktails, cocaine, cosy-bedsheets.
Find she returned to the streets
with a bad habit, with a hook.
About she and Zola then wrote a book.

for PATTAYA TRADER 226 (D)

A-SEAWIG-AMONG-A-SEA'S-WEED?
Bald as a coot
and pissed as a newt,
the guy thought he
was King Canute.
Wearing a wig
instead of a crown
"I will hold back
the sea or drown."
He drowned, of course,
in booze and brine.
His wig's awaited to
wash-upon the shoreline.

GOOD LORD, GIRL !!?
Lady-poet she prefers,
find not poetess.
Perhaps a lady-male
I should then address
and not a female?
A master not mistress?
She's haughty as a god,
but then she's no goddess !

for PATTAYA TRADER 226 (C)

Correction: 'grave in the ground' FLYING-FREE-FORMS and 'caterpillar' FIND-I'M-YOUR-MAN etc.

THE-OTHER-CONNECTION-SHE-IS
The map of her body
is there to explore.
The hills, nooks and crannies,
the forestry tour.
Get in touch with nature
in the form of a girl
and fly, fly, fly,
as above another world.

DEEP-SEA-AND-SPACE
Venus is the Evening Star
but is also known as Lucifer,
Son of the Morning; Light-Bringer.
Goddess or angel rebellious,
viewed by sailors you afar.

A-FULL-ON-FIRST-
IS-TOO-FAR-NO?
A Page 3
wannabe is she.
A nude show?
Eve in the 'know'?
She says "Yes naturally !"

DICKENSIAN-DERELICT
Find Lionel Bart
was a musical-smart.
A sound deliverer
of Dickens' Oliver.
How lyrical his art !
But like a street-urchin became.
Sure went to his head Dame Fame.

A-CURSED-CAPTAIN'S-LOG
He wrote in the ship's log
'Rolls as does the waves
the whitest of fogs -
like the ghosts of slaves -
in a huge army come
to wreck this one big boat,
to see us all undone.
We sail, and they float
in the air, as one large cloud.
We're cursed, damn sure fated
to lose our trade-winds-prow.
Black hides we transported,
white ghosts they are now.'

for PATTAYA TRADER 226 (B)

THE-FISTFUL-OF-LAUGHABLE-MEMORIES-
FROM-ONCE-UPON-A-TIME-IN-THE-WEST
Walking tall like Clint Easwood
and moustached like Charles Bronson
way back in the seventies,
when I was young and handsome?
Girl, you laugh and say
that's all I had in common,
height and a hairy-upperlip
in days now best forgotten !

YES-GO-EVER-MORE-GREEN-DID-
ENVIOUS-BOBBY
"Upstar crow
and shakescener,"
Robert Green
sure got greener
as to poet-playwright
Bill the Bard.
Green, with envy,
was very hard.

FARE FREE
A sail-free sailor
you think you are
following as you do
the Evening Star.
The changing tides
are chained, it's so.
Their waves are slaves
to high and to low.

A sail-free sailor
think not you are
until you follow
your very own star.

IT'S-DESTINY-BY-ORDAINED-DESIGN-TRUE?
It is thinking that I am free
to captain my own ship on life's sea
able to map my own destiny.
Just what if I am so very wrong?
What a gypsy said when I was young
turns out to have come true.
Is there flexibility as we sail on through?

for PATTAYA TRADER 226 (A)

NOTHING-BETWEEN-
YOU-AND-ME-HERE
An empty glass
is full of air
and yet we say
there's nothing in there.

We look through glass
and through air
but still we say
there's nothing in there.

Nothing is something.
that is clear.
Clear as the glass
between us here.

PLAYPARK-LIFE
Up and down
the seesawings.
Left to right
go the swings.
Full-circle wheels
the roundabout.
This is life, kids,
in or out.

JUST-THE-ACTIVE-VISION-ON-
CANVAS-MAN-HE
Rene Magritte
the Mystery Man
in a bowler-hat.
He was a Belgian
surrealist-artist,
yet a gentleman
in his bowler-hat.
Upsidedown vision,
subversive act.

A-DUO'S-SHARED-COMPLIMENTS-
ON-STYLE-VERSE-POEM-WE-HAVE-HERE
Hair upon her head
in a gold-pile
and far from miserly
was the girl's smile.
I said to her
let down your hair.
We lay on the bed
and in a while
she said to me
"Sure like your style."

FORMS-FLYING-FREE-FROM-
LANDED-FRAMES-YES?
Gravity holds us down
as does the grave the ground.
But if spirits go fly
might then you and I?
And might we meet the Muse
when we shed our shoes
and bodies by Death's Door,
as upwards, girl, we soar?

NATURAL-AS-FRESHLY-FALLEN-SNOWS?
The boys built a snowsoldier
if without a gun.
The snow-cold warrior
melted in the shiny-sun.
They passed by later
with dad and giddy-mum
pushing a pramulator.
Inside a new soldier son?

FIND-I'M-YOUR-MAN-AND-NOT-
A-FOUL-MAGGOT-GIRLIE
The white worm of the fly
upon a compost heap,
or the caterpiller of the butterfly
on a cauliflower-leaf,
feed and feed, take their fill.
In your perfumed garden, girl, I will.

for PATTAYA TRADER 225 (F)

UNDER-SO-HEAVY-THUNDER-AND-LIGHTNING-
VERSE-LINES
Lightning strikes and tears them assunder.
Too many arguments, too much thunder.
Black clouds they who once were white
as the girl's wedding dress. Day now night.

for PATTAYA TRADER 225 (E)

A-LOVE-KNACK-LACKER-VERSE
He has not the art,
he has not the skill.
Love-making for him
is simply all uphill.

He hasn't the touch
nor has he the caress.
He lacks sophistication.
He is short on finesse.

No he hasn't the art,
he has not the skill.
Love-making for him
is his own selfish fill.

CONCRETE-WILL-THIS-WOOD-
HERE-BECOME
The trees here will fall.
This dirt-track become a street.
Houses spring-up like flowers.
The deep-grass be replaced with concrete.

WHIRLING-ROUND-IN-THE-DARK
I heard the click-clack of shoed feet
as the girl came running down the street.
She raced into the open-arms of one
on whom the moon and streetlamp shone.
Now they shone upon her face too
out there in the town's midnight-blue.
He spun her round so that her feet
were lifted from the hard concrete.
Ah, how the girl laughed with glee,
and how I wished that guy was me.