~
august a chorus ( surohc a tsugua )
…
dust is a feather
flutters ‘n’ fleeting
rust is the tether
the deign of the done
laugh is a ladder
adders ‘n’ weeping
ink in the bladder
a snail on the run
salad’s a tosser
weasels ‘n’ weaving
cannons ‘n’ fodder
the kiss of a nun
pied is the piper
drummers ‘n’ beating
time is a tiger
the cream in y’ bun
scrawl is a trooper
easter is sleeping
shoot the computer
a laser, a gun
dawn is a walrus
even is creeping
august a chorus
& fade with the sun
…
~
4.44 a.m ( m.a 44.4 )
…
as the turquoise cat
& the boy
from under the sofa
play a yellow cello
on the tip
of your left elbow
as the purple moon
in the corner
of the pantry
wails a tale of whales
in the kippers
of the morning
& the snoring shrew
in the shoe
beyond it all – or
clouds of thereabouts
over ghosts
of underneath
where the chorus crows
in the swirling
of a circle
as a mountain hare
pips the innards
of a pear
( so there )
…
~
four voles ( selov ruof )
…
~
four voles ( selov rouf )
…
one swan sings a song
two shrews sniffing glue
three fleas leap a tree
four voles – on a stroll
…
( author notes )
& apparently
according to
the stats
the most popular
name
for a hamster
last year
was barry
with 97.8 %
of all males
& 87.3 %
of all females
named barry
throughout the world
& on the moon
too
which must have been
a fantasy
back in the nineties
but we’re the modernest
( relatively speaking )
yet
so there
p.s
i made that
hamster fact up
but hopefully you
already knew that
& this is what passes
as a joke
’round my way
– cheers
…
~
ffo gnidnuos ( sounding off )
…
never eat shredded wheat
the midlands is a buffer-zone
only troll the b.b.c
& n.p.c’s on twatter
karens, cunts & cannibals
weasels of this human zoo
monkey-skunks with tongues of dung
bitching shit in village pubs
alcohol is muppet juice
wear a pair of rubber boots
leather is the skin of death
meat is callous carnage
kiss the twists of river mist
adders lie in pasture’s grass
i am not y’ fucking gimp
stick y’ mask up y’ ass
gold is old but silver’s birch
words are birds & butterflies
ash is flash & oak’s a cloak
from sping – until the autumn
war’s a scam & all’s a stage
convid is a ponzi scheme
jesus is an octopus
earth’s an egg & mars is green
venus shines beyond the night
try to write by candlelight
with a quill or fountain pen
faces hide in clouds
sing a hymn in libraries
poetry’s a diary
prosody’s a lottery
the internet is not your friend
…
( author fuckin’ notes )
does anyone else remember nostalgic recollections?
i love looking back – to the days when i used to look back
( it’s twice as warm then – with doubly lovely blinkers on )
…
~
piss another proem ( meorp rehtona ssip )
…
once upon a yarn
underneath the moon
as the badgers barked
with the village loon
so the annals wrote
in amongst the dross
when the spectres float
& the bishops toss
turning circled sleep
over once again
in the middle’s mist
mizzle is the rain
mares within the air
retribution’s now
butchers dreamt a death
eaten by a cow
bakers burnt the cakes
poets kissed the stars
venus sings – begin
jupiter & mars
hark, the howl of owls
& the scribbles pen
once upon a yarn
something happened then
…
~
an open letter to a local ghost ( tsohg lacol a ot rettel neop na )
…
dearest headless horseman
stalker of the moors
haunter of the heather paths
phantom of the peat bogs
frightener of hikers
clergymen & cub scouts
‘tween the night & twilight
on a shadow donkey
fearful spin thy dark yarns
first the stench of sulphur
mint & pickled onions
then a howling wind growls
as your form emerges
flee or else be feasted
eater of the lost souls
‘mid the mist & frost
all your socks are washed
& your underpants – too
so come home soon
dinner’s in the oven
love phyllis
x
…
~
flimflamdemia fatigue ( eugitaf aimedmalfmilf )
…
asses ‘n’ gasses ‘n’ muzzle the masses
sing in a spin of the onions in pickles
eagles in trusses & sheeple on busses
larks in the garden – a shit in the thistles
weasels deceiving as beetles are heaving
dung in a dungeon, the rubber of riddles
puppets in pockets & lizards in lockets
muppets are lapping the pap of the piffles
piss in the papers – the barrels, the scrapers
lions not liars – the pricks in the middles
tossers are turning, the blither is burning
earth in a flap with a touch of the sniffles
( oh no )
…
( author notes )
” worse things happen at sea, you know “
( eric idle )
…
~
penance poem ( meop ecnanep )
…
i shall paint the humber bridge
with a toothbrush & a prayer
yeah, i’ll count the shifting clouds
of a breezy afternoon
i shall sweep the forest floor
& the oceans undertow
with a hop but not a skip
& feed the planet’s gannets
i will raise the dodo so
from the dozy realms of death
& then deck the rubber walls
in them halls of amenti
as i sing the hymn of sisyphus
& tantalus’s tongue
’til the forty fourth of august
underneath the blue moonbeams
…
in my defence
this poem was written
with a pen & a pad
& without a bloody mask on
– so there
…
~
bovine botanical ( lacinatob enivob )
…
i spy spotted cows
gazing at the whoopsy flowers
ox-eye daisies
…
resarf poetry 