Don’t be daft
& rock the raft
or dismantle
the kettle,
as you may well drown
in the idiom ocean
or struggle
to reassemble
…
Let lazy dogs doze
or they might bite off your nose
& rip your fuckin’ face
to shit,
no, today just play it beige
in the enthralling world of vague,
just bric-à-brac
-that’s it
& bits
of bricks
…
Amen
…
…
Barbarians & Librarians
are a thoroughly different bunch,
1 bevy rape, pillage & plunder
whilst the other nips out
for a sandwich at lunch
…
One lot lose the plot
& then they go berserk,
the other only stamp books
& tirelessly, quietly work
…
But which is which
?
…
https://www.youtube.com/embed/soXdnisOWCs“>http://
Well, I’m afraid that the telephone
is sadly very necessary,
despite sound progress with technology
there’s gaps in our telepathy
…
Plus pigeons have their limits
& messages in a bottle achieve shit all,
but I still look forward to the day
when my brain
is bothered by nuisance 3rd eyes
& withheld psychic calls
…
Back in the green a true pastoral scene, an external chapel a wish in Winter's dream ... Be it meadow, peak or bracken wherever chance & stuff may happen, the splendour shall possess & gently caress you shall be taken abacken ... By the ambrosial leaves & part-time bees the enchanting beauty, oh so serene, but when it then gets too much & you've now had enough just insert sumit like: Fuckin' obscene ...
Sunday,
Sunday,
a walk up as hill
a time for climb & chill,
good view snooze
…
Sunday,
Sunday,
today is God’s day off
which encourages lazy sods,
he started it
…
Sunday,
Sunday,
like Saturday but on Valium
a gentle deadening of the pallium,
pre-Mond’ fix
…
Oh Sunday,
Sunday,
you quiet bland fizzly peak
your beige shades are quite unique,
please come back in a week
…
Come to my shed endorse undead, you can be the 2nd member of my Saturday Satan Club. We'll paint our nails, shun nature trails & scowl with intent until the cows come down from the dales & kill us, violently, possibly, hopefully, you never know like ... Please x
Evening,
like the afternoon like
but closer to night,
a dwindling
& mingling
of light time & dark
-a nightingale
hark!
No, wait,
it’s still a thrush,
cogitations at dusk
…
Evening (x 2)
It’s also a greeting
plus a well worn metaphor
for the-elderly-&-permanently-fleeting,
a twinkling
of not too long
this glistening song
-oh shit!
I’ve left the iron on
…
The whim changed direction
without a single objection,
nor sole interjection
or mournful string section
…
& I followed suit
without refute or dispute,
another care-free pursuit
we might be en route
…
If not, it’s still a detour
there might be swings & slides plus see saw,
which easily shits on free fall
but will we remember what we saw
?
…
The whim changed because it could
as I suspected whim possibly would,
& no one tried to stop or trap it
maybe on a whim though
-they probably should
…
?
My other magpie
is actually a weapon,
& my other cuddly kitten
is bursting with venom
…
My other amoeba
is fucking humongous,
my other symbiotic best mate
is a parasitic fungus
…
My other dear seal pup
craves human flesh,
& my other elephant
fearlessly stamps on mice
–
my other, my other
but not me
I’m nice
…
x
Let’s up the ante
& sing a sheep shanty,
& celebrate the wooly residents of this land
the ewes, the rams, the tegs, the lambs
…
We’ll tell of former flocks
& crofts & licks & troughs,
thus glorifying the ovinely amazing
the never complaining them, steadfastly grazing
…
Yes, let’s up the ante
& sing a sheep shanty,
as other folk might join in, having travelled from afar
– by the way, there’s only 1 lyric & it’s ‘baa’
…
resarf poetry 