…
baggy trousers
not the spanners
of the normalz
in their tight jeans
in a cloudburst
out the other
while we stroll in
looser garments
gargle forth with
wonky songbooks
yet red herrings
they pretend we’re
disappearing
in their sadness
& codswallop
twice is better
in the attic
of the nutter
soon is later
than last morning
thurisaz then
see yuz later
so begin once
more with onions
they the weeping
us the green fields
…
…
oh, hemorrhoid cream
when he’s just sixteen
autobiographies
written in their twenties
the mayfly that died
one sad day in april
christmas cards in june
it’s all too rather soon
…
…
on the other side
of the hill that
r o l l s
like a granary bap
or a wholemeal
b l o o m e r
is another valley’s green
a new dream
t i c k e t
the odd smallholding
gritstone
b r i c k e d
but mostly more fields
& the drystone
w a l l s
the scattered woodland copses
where pheasants strut their
s t u f f
as the ewes baa back
at the oak tree’s
b a r k
& starlit badgers wonder what
life is like for us
b u m p k i n s
…
…
i’m strangely drawn in
like a cartoon you – but some
may say – that’s art, maaan
…
…
sat ‘ere unlike
a satyr – stroke –
some woodland god
one from the wilds
beyond us scrotes
…
…
d is for dunces
donuts & dipsticks
open the green door
let the spring sing
grin like a cheshire
cheesemonger’s moggy
only on the inside
under uncle cumulus
miles of piles above
dim mid-derbyshire
wit’s about turn
is marching further normalz
leaving us pillocks
speaking lamb’s lettuces
enter the bellend
the gone one in we
…
…
under yawning morning sun
comfortably spread
on the slated roof above the
buttery below – purrs
the marmalade cat
…
…
sheep invaded the pitch
play has been cancelled
so the goal is left wide open
like a whole in the fence
while the flock graze on
…
…
stranger than strange
mister vista’s jawline
it’s hairy over there
shrouded in cloud
the chinny chin chin
of some old god
or an otherling
maybe a monster?
depends who’s singing
we await your form
stroking hmmm anew
a moon for each sun
a soon in every though
blue dawn whispering
green death gleaming
whence in why ‘n’ there
wagtails wag
a brown hare legs it
let’s head west in vests
frogmen of the east
friends of phantom fog
…
…
morris men bailing out
parachutes & landing on
yesteryear’s merriments
enter the fayre
as their sunk plane explodes
with an orange plop
into the west’s horizon
so the foxgloves are off
let the bells knell then
let the barely legal
maidens weave
ribbons ’round a randy tree
let the ale keep it real
if the piss’eads insist
albion, the coffin dodger
is seventeen again
so this green & pheasant gland
de vere’s sceptred isle
mister blake’s jerusalem
is wistful like wisteria
while clematis climbs
like the ghostly smoke from
great auntie beltane’s
bonfire – the bardish
burks compose their verse
on greasy white chip paper
necking lukewarm cans of
dandelion & burdock
let anew resume
& a cuckoo calm us all
…
resarf poetry 