…

dear darling stars

of this modern poetry

      we, the proper wrong’uns

      with rants in our pants

the scum of the erm

the gum on the sole

      of your muse’s shoe

      the muse of snoozing off

of popular you

who redefines purple

      & gets away with cliché

      because the bots love it

the flesh & the code

plus current thing platitudes

      & suckles on the tit

      of normalzzz shit

or some lovely words

about the hills & flowers

      or some boxes ticked

      ( you’re quilling in their survey )

well, you fucking bells

we exist as well

      underneath the bright

      of your brilliant bilge

as your roses a ring

we, the gobshites sing

…