dillusional, misguided  or dangeous

'the sinister artist whos materials are men'

Broken robot

Feline

Remembrance

Up from the birth

Underground

Tunnel

Aborted womb

My weekend

My worklife

My working fix

‘I don’t want a job’

says Robot one.

Lights & disco

Restaurant, bra

Last night’s protest

Major disruption

Between

Bank and

Morrgate station

Interventionist

Propaganda

On the Bakerloo line

There is a good service

On all other

London Underground lines

Due to civil unrest in the

Victoria area

Services on the Jubilee,

Circle. District and Victoria Lines

Are facing severe delays

We advise all passengers

To seek alternative routes

Souvenir bag

Cherished

The moment

Me beam

And the rights

To my childhood

Dreaming

‘It was our day off’

And the meek

Rose higher

To the stars

Smile

Oxford Circus

I know exactly how you feel

7:45Am
Escalating
Warm words
On the
Rails

To Oxford Circus
And shoes

Wheels of public

My escalating
Cold breeze
And dreams
Dead cheeks
Poised over beauty
Carving
Governed realm
With wheels
Of public

Hatfield

The lost cow
In the city
Brook
Water by its ankle
Close to a foaming
Broth of
Chemical ‘soup’
This is a safe place to play
And rivulets of dust
Were good
For cars

The mule was absent
But a thistle
Marked path

Two minutes to air

And we’re

Looking

Seating there

The iron

The bleach

Take me to

Better there

Above

Abroad

In golden

Shades

Of dreamward

Void

Warm

Words

Colours

Broad

Two minutes

And Archie’s

Bald

The world’s censors

Got em’s balls

But ark

In Eye-light’s

Got Wickered

Boules

Were out

To worst

The rain’s

Called

Out worklite

Dead mile to

Brawl

Electronic wails

And she’s leafing

Thru Monday’s

Pales

Chatter-luck

But there aint

No man

Here to hear it

Hit the tracks

Rolling

Bigger than fails

And he’s the

World of hot-young

Grails

Hit the tracks

Rolling

Hit the tracks

Rolling

Chatter-luck

But there aint

No man

Here to hear it

Chatter-luck

But there aint

No man

Here to hear it

Eyes past the better

Of life for caring

My seat

My ride

But there aint

No man

Here to hear it

But how, Buck Pal?

A sign, the Mall

In a
Basement
Which could be
An annex to
London Transport Museum

Uncle Joe,
Learnt

Strand, St Martins' Lane
Turn this way

ASDA eyes

Past me bye
The boy with ASDA
Aisled eyes

Look at me
Look at me
With the camera
Documentary

Cry away the bitter whys
Of liberal investigatory:

I’m too shy to
Look

Regenerative

Stem cell

Growth

She glided past

In warmth

Close

The image

Of Angel

Down from

A City

To roost

Spliced onto urban decay,

Set tooth against

Empty male unemployed eyes

Far away a battle is fought

To contain the spirit of Erbil

Frank Geoff Fulcher

Born Birmingham

1920

To the City

Outward

Seafront

Town

Woodbridge

Melton

Hollesley Bay

Sailing

Radio Row

Corner Office

Mark Devellish
Past mine
Pro consumer
Construct

Up-work
In mind
After the lines

Take time to learn
The rythmn

And chance
Of a windswept
Swide swipe
Read: career advance

Time spent
In thee
Bread basket

Pizza feed

Greedy eyes

Of artistic ambition

My colleague

Branch

And observer: Adversary

Walking past my crippled

Entrance to your world

Arch in breathe to the

Reminded nose

Of hope

I can see the image

Consistent in majesty

So sweet

Beautiful
Technopark
Gliding on my wings

Newham
Norham
Gardens
Wool

So fresh
She forgot
Leafy days
And tired eyes
Yet to know
The working haze

Forward forth
Into my dreams

And treasures

Memories of the past
Unrealised

A tumbling cascade of
Familiarity

Rushes of life
Enhance my mind
Up to oblivion

Up stairs
Last

Reverb

Reverb

Reverberate

To rate

Reverber

Verberate

Take aplate

Reverber

vErberate

The plate

Insate

Reverba

Verberate

To rate

Veberate

I am

Relatively speaking

98 per cent

DNA

Transferred

Between

I am

Relatively speaking

Speaking

Your mind

Back at me

And

I am

Relatively speaking

Your mouth

Your eye

Speaking

And

I am

Relatively speaking

Taking apart

The

This life

Construct

A meaning from

My

Reprising

Eyes

Constant battering

Each time I rise

Listen to your

Voice in mind

Your wrote these

Words

Ecophone

Ecophony

My relative

‘This is relativity’

Standing on

Regerneration Row

Too early

This is summer’s eve

‘Move faster’ passed

My dreams on

That train

Just past

This latests project

To stare

Out a window

Indefinately

I am dramatic

Two feet

Away from my head

Three

Four

Fifteen

400 metres beneath the sea?

Not really

90 at Charing Cross

Plus some sold-off books

Lost in the space

Between your bar

And a hungry eye

The menu of

Having Nothing

Riled me for a while,

That I miss

Late payments for those

Endure

Enough to

‘Fuck em All’ 

We know

We know
Of the man

Who kept all his receipts:

He drank a bells whiskey
At company of cooks

On
27 December 2009

At
20:23

Poly-saturated

Container

Carton

Spoon

Spork

Found to be

Source of trans-genderism,

In polar bears

After the lunch

Bell

A mechanised

Onslaught of faeces

You don’t know

The industrialised nature

Of excretement

Said my mind

To a commuter

Propping the

Floor

You don’t know

The industrialised nature

Of your food

Said Jonathan Meades

In some way

That lost him

Credibility