flap shat

~

flap shat ( tahs palf )

gloom upon the snooze
globalism’s golden yoke
cattle dance the blues

all is balls ‘n’ war
shivers in y’cotton socks
colder than before

gulp the evening air
hark, the snarls ‘n’ barks of snarks
dark cathedral fare

see the minions weave
tapestries of tragedies
mirrors up a sleeve

parrot ’til y’sick
piping panic’s pantomime
shit another brick

gasp a precious breath
run atop a phantom hill
chase the tail of death

life is butter dream

~

life is butter dream ( maerd rettub si efil )

butterflies spreading wings
butter up the bolting blue

bounce around like butter balls
rubber walls or butter beans

~

butterscotch is hopping songs
butter biscuits in a tin

but a buttress burrs in me
bread & butter head

~

butterfingers buttercup
buttermilk for butternuts

( butteries not included )
as the world still churns

the things we sing

~

the things we sing ( gnis ew sgniht eht )

hymns from within
sprouting in the out

seasonal soliloquies
nature’s shifting shapes

squibs from squidded nibs
paper poem planes

birdbrain choruses
scrawl is love & walruses

sounds from the soul
salad in a bowl

irking normal’zzz balls
bouncing as a bomb

supper with aplomb
odes upon this road

letters from the dead
lists & post-it notes

soft rock ballads
shat pop cheese

spinning with the air
like seedlings on a breeze

trad-anon’s back catalogue
bat flap fare

songs upon a sixpence
life in wonky keys

bat manifesto

~

bat manifesto ( ostefinam tab )

– twilight is renamed as dawn

– morning is re-classed as evening

– reclaim the caves & churchyards

– upside down is the right way round

– darkness is bright

   if the sound bounces back

– batteries not included

– bats of the world unite

post scriptum scribbles

~

post scriptum scribbles

after the spanners

a spindle is run

      x’s not hexes

      the kiss of a gun

spanning the vista

a mackerel is seen

      over the clover

      a ghost of a skein

there is a parsnip

a ptarmigan too

      hitching a lift with

      a stone in a shoe

down in the dingle

the badgers awake

      dusk is a dusting

      the icing of cake

bouncing in transit

the cheque’s in the mail

     thanks for the letter

     & god save the snail

planets in motion

a twinkle of eyes

      what with an atlas

      the wear in the wise

moorland calling

~

moorland calling ( gnillac dnalroom )

yonder whispers in the bonce
fuck the ‘rona, it’s a nonce
roam beyond the tips of tree
seek the tors & all at once

where the uplands kiss the sky
higher than a butterfly
hare upon a heather sea
with a twinkle in y’eye

see the seasons shifting shapes
april is a playful ape
or a soaring bumblebee
seeking greener scenes & scrapes

moorland calling, walk the dog
trudge above the river’s fog
plod along & wander thee
kiss a frog within a bog

lick a toad – we never know
breathing where the breezes crow
there the air is sugar-free
sweeter than a syrup though

chirrup on a speckled morn
whistle ’til a hymn is born
moor’s the pitch but not pih-tee
spring is singing summer’s spawn

s p a r k

~

s p a r k ( k r a p s )

pring another hymn

shat from barren bowels

sewn seeds sprout

~

luck from the aether

piss from empty bladders

pellets from the blessed owl

~

nswer with arsenals

avacados, anoraks

apples & aardvarks

~

elight the darkness

reinvent the trouser press

row y’bloody boat

~

ettle on, seeking steam

kingfisher swishesque

– kick it up the fuckin’ arse

false starts

~

false starts ( strats eslaf )

it wasn’t dark or stormy
but stars above cried night

the rain in spain is spanish
the snow in togo’s fake

i’d never seen a goblin
until i met your mother

the road ahead’s behind us
another circle forms

so wear a pair of waders
the towpath’s underwater

the ice in iceland’s dry
according to a stagehand

alas, today’s tomorrow
the calendars a colander

& then we all ate coleslaw
upon your uncle’s elbows

a poet sang a sonnet
so all the jackdaws yawned

she is dicing onions
& weeping like a bellend

an ombudsman is born
so try to look exited

i thought that ingrown toenails
were just another urban myth