Alex

Your house beyond the dunes, roses rise beneath the sky, death won’t bring you ruin, all chefs die intestate, fashioned dishes may lie, it’s better than the prostrate, even God is not immune, he takes each love aside, won't be duped, fire burns the oven grate, don't tell me how you cried, smoke rises from the hot plate, it isn't me but you, dying in the tide, don't you know you fool, with all your shades of blue, you left me hanging out to dry, all the lovers too, they come to say how are you, pillowed troubles slight, a laughing kitchen crew, debts gone from their eyes.

Dave Two

In any cafe', when you figure it, there's always the odd flake, where the kitchen shakes, chefs boiling in fits, forget about the wage, they’re all on the make, with their new gadgets, that go in this place, my back’s in outer space, no hands can fit, around the pain, it spins before my face, like a launderette, puts me out the game, hanging on a door frame, music from a playlist, holds me up this way, it'd be a cheek to say, love doesn’t exist, when my wife and my mate, act like they’ve hit.

Dave

By the garden door, of Saint Phillip Neri, he sees the poor, cross Catherine Street, in their eyes need, linen washed clean, the soul of lost hordes, some hold a weed, they laugh as they walk, who needs a divvy, when food is cheap, the beggar's party, all of them taught, you need no inquiry, when the truth is caught, then buried, and each part of thought, has been curried, to a perfect nought, that’s to identify, between now and what's sought, the moon and the sea ?

Mona Three

Sometimes with this place, you just don't know, if you’re going to make it, the same with those, who forget to show, don't understand where they go, just when you pray, give me a blow, another one turns up late, how they break your bones, when they know, you can’t get out alone, really need a mate, sunlit hills come with stones, I'll have to wait, this café trade is slow, red wine’s not to waste, a crowded bar would atone, it’s a happy day, listening to a jazz solo, a cigarette to taste, an atmosphere of home

Mona Two

In a supermarket yard, lovely face washed, by rain and river salt, dressed always decent, her trolley for a cross, she sees them lay blankets, spirits without a spark, they sit there to rest, it's a rare clerk, not put to the test, when clearing this park, not to think of the lost, they all do at Primark, she shops in Lidle, but life is so stark, she can never forget them, they are like larks, next to the chapel, if there’s ever a chart, to pause for a moment, bring food to no marks, each of us vagrant.

Mona this starts here the new re- iteration

Smouldering like a star, chasing numbers, leaving the place ajar, a different calendar, her boss says 'i wonder', she's a great heart, then she bought a car, made it trouble, he won't let her off, right from the start, bewildered, she floods the bar, her Ma, ten years after, still hears her laughter, she could have gone far, surrendered, smashed lipstick on, sees it in her Da, terrible to be a mother, under a borrowed tarp, love always hungers

Grace

My vision arrives too late, it's not easy to believe, what I have to say, you rolled within my thunder, exploded like a tree, lost in moans to numbers, you'll find out one day, if you let me keep, plans you’ve thrown away, my mind is so uncluttered, wild birds screech, who needs love, I won’t stand in the way, of a cowards retreat, make it last to date, it makes you wonder, stones, graves, wreaths, who splits who asunder, memories of your face, are not easy to read, the poetry of your days, flies away from me.