~
bloody intros … ( another stab at the shit but not a shit-stab )
…
once upon a whirlpool with a flemish welder accordion legend & privy the elder lift that curlew curfew shout it down the cloisters where dusty nuns shuffle & them wrong'uns loiter everything's a jigsaw ballet, bats & ballads watch those statues blink as cannibals eat salads elsewhere pastry's flaking slowly stirs yon field mouse judge's wigs fool no one welcome to my tree house ...
~
( lines on the composition of verse ) ( some truth )
…
usually it's gubbins
yep
but somehow some's
alright
yet ninety nine
point nine
percent
of it's shite
so write
...
~
a pair o’ bears ( some verse )
…
so bear in mind what sort of bear? how long have you had a bear there? beneath your skull a cosy fit there must be woods so it can shit so bear with me but where's the bear? invisible you'll stare then stare it's close - you'll seek you'll never find as i too have the mental kind ...
~
( poem a )
…
quite often i am lost
here within my home village
which i've lived in on & off
yes - for most of my days
the street names don't change but
my mind it has been pillaged
plus the gossips & new builds
only add to this maze
yet well i know the fields
fit for grazing or tillage
old woodland, well-trod footpaths
aye - the lay of this land
so i climb up them hills
that rise above said village
it's puzzles & bullshit
which i'll never understand
( thank fuck )
...
~
like a fish out of water ( some ? )
…
like a fish out of water when all's said & spoken i'll walk up that hill so ( my bicycle's broken ) ...
~
the golden age ( tale a true )
…
when all was gold in the golden age
existence gleamed through its golden stage
all life it shined, all earth did the same
from pots & hearts
to plates worth their weight
in everything - standards disappeared
too soon back in those bland former-years
our wax was gold - the wax in our ears
our shit was gold
we wept golden tears
...
~
the boat race ( a little truth )
…
you'll never see me cheering on the boat race life's just too short - me thinks to pander to this dull, elitist scroat-ache i hope that oxbridge sink ...
~
bridge on ( some bridge-verse )
…
come the stream, its glowing gleams build a bridge & bridge that gap crossover its flow serene burn that bridge - no going back ...
~
listesque ( a poetry )
…
bastard handshakes
every morn like bran flakes
medjool me mandates
tooth thy pick
nomad notepads
often glad is so sad
blue john & topaz
mined that shit
hoppy scented
some hopes have fermented
ale wails demented
down it quick
kitchens sinking
now all caps are thinking
keen eyes are squinting
tick - tick - tick
...
~
come spring – christmas ( s o m e o f a p o e t r y )
…
come spring - christmas
floats in the distance
scaring the staring folk
witless & shitless
...
resarf poetry 