blog

a poem in between the blanks

…

  • blank –
    a river runs dry
    like a jogger on the moon
  • blank –
    normie afternoons
    watching sportball bollox
  • blank –
    the latest untrue goss
    about yours truly
  • blank –
    friends on the internet
    that you’ve never met
  • blank –
    three gulps left
    of this shat cappuccino
  • blank –
    easter makes more sense
    somewhere in october
  • blank –
    battered haddock, chips
    mushy peas & curry sauce
  • blank –
    early bird plods
    along these empty footpaths
  • blank –
    the sweet life & times
    of a custard cream
  • blank –
    the rearranged dream
    of yer country cousin

…

life as it unhappens

…

a boarded up shop
on a dead high street
of a breezless afternoon
sometimes the moon
can be seen in daylight
still up from last night
but not this x
on a sheet of graph paper
doldrum roll, please
where did all the traffic flow?
we stand statesque
under dozy duvets
of motionless blue
unstung by wasps
or mutant g.m hornets
no lightning struck
while the iron was lukewarm
or song was sung of
life as it unhappens

…

unscrambled easter eggs

…

the washing up
won’t do itself

a photograph
of long before

the second left
& carry on

do you recall
her maiden name?

& whisk until
the mixture burps

a robin on
a broken fence

it could be three
or forty six

a toothpaste stain
confused again

we needed salt
& lemon curd

so focus on
a waxing moon

the cobwebs on
the window sill

then let’s begin
before the end

…

neath long raincoats

…

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

…

beyond the vale

…

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

…

enter the bellend

…

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

…