a bit of a poemz


a bit of a poemz ( zmeop a fo tib a )

love is like turpentine

i am not an osogoth

strawberry jam

when the goblins are upon us

akhenaten’s armpits

extras whisper rhubarb

dancing with the ants

on a magic tartan carpet

quarter to coot

when the moorhen is clucking

two loose shrews

& a broken egg timer

bonce upon a wonky shelf

never cross a shepherdess

it’s good to see bees

in mid-october

curtains time


curtains time ( emit sniatruc )

iron & bamboo

corded acorns drawing you

as the sun crawls down


thermal furls of net

panel pairs plus nineties hair

eyelets on the stage


rod pocket & pull

table top, power shower

flicker, twitcher, beef


velvet, linen, silk

valance, pencil pleat & sash

they all call your name

insomnia & out the other


insomnia & out the other ( rehto eht tuo & ainmosni )

bobbing on a hilltop

sober as a gnome

roving under twinkles

drinking milky tealights

see the bright of cat’s eyes

rabbits, voids & plasmoids

eating after eight mints

at three-oh-three a.m

then, beneath the moonbeams

catching luna’s ray daze

swimming silver pastures

( grasses pass as seaweed )

up before the early birds

up before the worms

up before aurora

larking in the dark

clodhopping song


clodhopping song ( gnos gnippohdplc )

drumming on the mud
rat-a-splat & fiddlesticks
spits a rhythmic thud

plodding of a morn
like the duke of wellington
milk a sopping lawn

kicking sods of turf
sticks & stones & rabbit bones
off the skin of earth

stomping on the leas
nincompoops in blucher boots
as the mizzle pees

prancing in the mist
scrambles as an alibi
scratching something’s gist

dancing on the ground
as the rub of so bellow
murmurs gurgled sound

balaclava – baklava


balaclava – baklava ( avalkab – avalcalab )

as the clouds are howling by
in the rabid autumn sky

& the chills are frisking me
grill an owl or dictionary

sings a swan within the brain
quibbles quizzing on again

balaclava – baklava
how i wonder what you are?


one’s a sort of woollen mask
from a battle, since you ask

born in eighteen fifty four
in the great crimean war

& the other is a treat
filled with nuts & honey sweet

baked with layered filo – so
that’s the difference, now you know

in a month of mondays


in a month of mondays ( syadnom fo htnom a ni )

calendars & contours
colanders in kitchen sinks
swans are singing encores

once upon the sequels
gleams the green of in between
snoring with the eagles

pour another tea cup
buttered toast & traffic jam
so the stuttered speak up

storming of a morning
mares within the air & hare
where the stagger’s fawning

anoraks & sun rays
ambles on an ashen path
in a month of mondays

scrambles at the deep end
badgers in the thicket’s thatch
tangled ’til the weekend

cloven hoofed yoofs


cloven hoofed yoofs ( sfooy defooh nevolc )

have you herd the one
about the gangs of cows?

cloven hoofed yoofs
clad in shellsuits

sniffing super glue
marker pens & tipex

skiving off from school
larking in them leas

knocking fences down
patting yon allotments

drinking booze from town
chasing great dane bitches

labradors & spaniels
pugs & humans too

gobbing on badgers
pissing on the footpaths

swagger walk & bugger
all before the slaughter

on the road to death
– what a load of bullocks