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a conversation ( r e m e b e r t h e m ? )
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chat we are scraps of encyclopedias let's dissect the lie that is social media ( in person ) ...
Author: resarfpoetry
my broken toe hell
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my broken toe hell ( a t r u e m o a n a b o u t f u c k a l l r e a l l y )
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oh broken toe my scarpered flow i fell - you clicked the crunch of woe that sound we know we dread it so horrific yet some faint hope glows through dark shadows well dark are those in dreams i dream then green shoots grow oh broken toe i'm okay though it's poetry put on a show ...
bastard chapters
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bastard chapters ( s o m e p o e t r y )
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dog-shit-free shoes - wanker trainers broken toe groans - fortune favours the jammy & thin ice skaters lucky twats their fluky capers worse things happen at dot-dot-dot dick'ead clichés & their what not tangled rambles - daft apeth knots fucking swearing that hits the spot no blister weeps of a morning like a bellend, frogs are spawning hobble home quick - gobshite's calling take no ice bath 'stead get scrawling as that crow flies - scratch a surface shit on paper, burn a furnace bastard chapters - scrappy verses sadness blessings happy curses ...
you who you you poem
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you who you you poem ( s o m e o f a p o e m s )
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you who you you is a who to you too & who too too? possibly sue so you you you so who too as you do quarter past two fuckle my shoe said you you who to a shrew wise & blue plus you know? stranded in crewe et yet you do said do you with an ooh et cetera forever too ...
fuck off
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fuck off ( a p o e m )
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the ostrich has bolted
your feathers have moulted
your business has folded
your peasants revolted
your park is a wasteland
punctured are your armbands
the penny has dropped &
sunk beneath sinking sands
your attics been rummaged
shat out is your roughage
you're packed in as luggage
good riddance bad rubbish
it's night where your sun shone
pure gravy since you've gone
hands wavy - you've done one
fat ladies sing swansongs
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cemetery poem
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cemetery poem ( ? )
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at night we enter cemeteries to marvel at their pleasantry there all is still & sedentary straight through the gates ( skeleton keys ) ...
when the breeze doesn’t know …
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when the breeze doesn’t know … ( a s h i t e p o e m f o r y o u z )
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when the breeze doesn't know
when the wind blows befuddled
i wonder if all leaves
are secretly called russell
( ? )
( maybe )
...
thoughts from a shed
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thoughts from a shed ( a t r u e t a i l – o f f )
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imagine who
invented the trowel
among the pots
thoughts from a shed
in olden times
& next wonder how
folk reacted
yes - what was said
'twas witchcraft then
then mad masses howled
& screamed in fear
bring us his head
( or else her head )
in days far from now
no doubt they burned
until well-dead
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your poxy t-shirts
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your poxy t-shirts ( p o e t r y )
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if you were a band
then i'd buy
your albums
then i'd listen - slap along
to your songs
'til me knees hurt
i might go to your gigs
sink a few pints
then have a jig
yet i wouldn't be seen
dead
in your poxy t-shirts
...
the radishes of former times
the radishes of former times the carrots of my youth the turnips from those childhood years ( i remember my roots ) ...
resarf poetry 