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varicella zoster & thereabouts ( a brief yearning )
…
dear chickenpox i miss you lots once you were mine i had you once do you recall? oh - years ago so many since for you although i'm sure one day as sure as worms the cunning ones catch early birds quite soon you'll turn & kill us all just like you killed them dinosaurs ...
~
lines on milton keynes ( 4 couplets )
…
i've never been to milton keynes it never shows up in my dreams i've heard the cows are concrete there down the m1 - down south, somewhere but maybe someday i shall go to this future mutant ghetto wander its streets, pop in its shops hang out with them strontium dogs ...
~
the mystery of soup ( a brief treatise )
…
soup the food that makes us piss soup the drink that makes us shit confusing, isn't it ( ? ) ...
~
( the month of jan by the right-reverend jan uary )
…
the month of jan
when plans began
snow white rabbits
pinch punch - ow man
perhaps begun?
the head's still spun
the bare bones of
time's skeleton
begin afresh
the same old mess
biscuits - risk it
each step's a guess
still miss & hit
trapdoors 'n' tricks
but early days
( don't shit them bricks )
...
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a glimpse of heaven ( a limerick )
…
there was a man from devon who caught a glimpse of heaven up on dartmoor he briefly saw six angels - maybe seven ( ? ) ... ( author notes ) well, it was only a glimpse after all ...
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there was young lady from surrey ( a limerickz )
…
there was a young lady from surrey who sped through her days in a flurry her decisions were rash her appearance - slapdash far too hurried to think about worries ...
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new year confusion ( 24 lines of that there poemz-shat )
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the year is dead
long live the year
the month of jan's
two-faced head rears
there's rain outside
on new year's day
december's piss
washes away
down dated drains
everything's old
everything's new
old tales untold
where be my head?
i am confused
oh mulberries
time's spiked my juice
it's early days
but is it though
- oh look, a ghost
strange shades they glow
unseen before
by mortal eyes
i give up on
the whats & whys
( ? )
...
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dick’ead has gone ( 12 lines of reality )
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dick'ead has gone - peace is restored back to prison a month or four each irked road has a dick'ead there at least one dick they're everywhere in some ideal world on some street they'd be neighbours life would be sweet a border drawn like lines in sand there they'd kick-off in dick'ead land ...
~
the scraps of the year ( 8 lines of hope-stuff )
…
the scraps of the year what's left in the head aye - the end bit draws near so handstand for the dregs something might appear versey, yet unsaid or a novel perhaps or a feather instead ( ? ) ...
~
( suddenly all’s fine ) ( after this poem it’s out of the system )
…
why are we here? writing these poems? we could be playing golf hitting those balls yeah - watch out & fore into those bunkered holes with our golf clubs our special golf chums we're all so golfly dressed retired planners retired c.i.d a dodgy sweatered mess ...
resarf poetry 