Nan used to tell me old Folk Tales & never-ever-ever-ever eat your own toenails only other peoples' that internet is evil the Hun don't like it up 'em & next door are in league with weasels. Plus it's only witches that get chickenpox twice butterflies are too nice always neat - no ice & sometimes wolves are sheep in disguise never double-cross a morris dancer - yes, she was wise ...
Author: resarfpoetry
jam (at a glance)
Strawberry's for tourists & the yawningly boring, Damson's handsome & Plum makes us glum, Greengage beckons seachange & Chilli burns y' bum. Raspberry? Exactly if it's a Bakewell Tart it has to be, Rhubarb well that's an extra's script & Blackcurrant's dark-Satanic-shit. But delicious, sublime & great, Apricot binds a Battenberg Cake, Traffic's too slow to merit a mention plus Toe's for scent & show NOT human ingestion ...
sheep get everywhere
Flockin' Hellfire! Them sheep get everywhere beyond as far as my eyes can see, so it's only a matter of time like before they're our Shepherd & Master - yes, the inevitable ovine conspiracy. From cold Arctic wastelands to peng desert islands be it Dalesbred, Gritstone or Ryeland - say y' prayers, aye even the monster under the bed is running chicken-scared as last time I looked there was actually nothing there so I check for sheep instead now 'cause sheep get EVERYWHERE (!) ...
gradualism as cardigan
"Actually that Blind Vengeance does have legs & wings & fantastic ankles amongst many other things like hectares of charisma" The steaming Kettle sings. "Hurry up" ...
1 o’ them
Them Javelins have been to far-flung places & the average poem has 18 point 3 elbows. The Pheasant need not placate Dark Forces & George de Mestral well he created Velcro ...
grab a pew…
Mildly unamused Libran Tree Surgeons, frenetic Phrenologists, diabetic Numerologists. Liquid Petroleum Gasp enthusiasts, Mesolithic Mendicants, all Entities great & sentinent. Including secret-mitten-knitters, Visigoth staticians plus the Venerable Lamashtu - grab a pew ...
madrigal stuff
They sang of the many elbows of Love all 11 thousand & VII point 8, they sang of the Duckworth Lewis Method & the 1 giant conjoined eyebrow of Hate. They sang of the phosphorous nostrils of War which have been kickin' off since pre-Days-of-Yore, they sang of the Skylark & the Sand Martin & of Charity-Shop-Shop-Lifting harsh but bargains. The sang of Daydreams then Rainbows; variegation magic & those moments when the brain goes, they sang of Metamorphosis - a chrysalis, the fibs of Sisyphus & Great Uncle Syphilis. They sang of the Badger & THE HOLY GRAIL, eye of Newt plus the Pony tail, they sang of Beige-Death with its puce, relentless fangs yet the days they're getting lighter Fuck-Shiter - they sang, they sang ...
today the sun went orange
Today the Sun went orange & none of the guessperts know why but nonetheless there it sits all massive like its citrus-based coloursake shining in the sky. Maybe it's fake-tan or fence preserver or it wants to go marching with William's fan club in July - twinkle - thinkle - the child prodigies they wonder as today the Sun went orange & none of the guessperts know why ? ...
may contain traces of seepage
I found a poem inside a poem inside a poem inside a poem well beyond & within its pungent oniony skin. Hiding between layers with Lord Lucan & a Russian doll whilst wondering am I the end of this or merely the tip of begin ? ...
shattoodoo
Check inbox for latest emails from Barabus & Banardos, squeeze avocados then FREE TERRY WAITE. Translate Milton into Pingu knock knock who's there? Igloo Igloo who? Igloo let me in I'll tell you not this side of gist, this is the middle of a list ...
resarf poetry 