~
when the breeze doesn’t know … ( a s h i t e p o e m f o r y o u z )
…
when the breeze doesn't know
when the wind blows befuddled
i wonder if all leaves
are secretly called russell
( ? )
( maybe )
...
Art
thoughts from a shed
~
thoughts from a shed ( a t r u e t a i l – o f f )
…
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
...
your poxy t-shirts
~
your poxy t-shirts ( p o e t r y )
…
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 ) ...
oh to be a telephone
~
oh to be a telephone ( a s i g h o f a p o e m )
…
oh to be a telephone
pick us up & dial
aunties in antarctica?
i'll put in the miles
i'll carry your spoken tones
distance? - fret not - see?
cousins out on ganymede?
pah - that's well easy
oh to be a telephone
this would raise a smile
no prank calls or perverts please
nah - that aint my style
talk with ease - i'm dog & bone
relax, chat carefree
others may be listening
but that's beyond me
...
feed me raspberries
~
feed me raspberries ( s o m e b o l l o c k s )
…
hopscotch aftermath coleslaw overlords hopscotch aftermath vortex - crossin' swords sheep dipped happenstance portals - disarrange sheep dipped happenstance corduroy interchange gobshite goblin spit rockall, lundy, sole gobshite goblin spit piss off pigeonholes woodland badger shat leaky batteries woodland badger shat feed me raspberries ...
a good poem
~
a good poem ( s o m e p o e m )
…
in my books samaritans & gold scouts as paragons terms, your guess is dot-dot-dot afternoon that hits the spot morning, eggs fighting that fight vibes, heavens graces & night jobs 'n' shit said-word to go riddance, grief, luck so far so ...
original shit
~
original shit ( a p o e m )
…
well all this shit is original shit as twas handcrafted by a blithering tit & all these shites are original writes i only steal cars in the darkness of night these bastard rhymes i'm afraid they're all mine blame god or the fates or the gemini mind there is no off this bollocks never stops knockers eat a cock & then a dead a dead tramp's sock ( bon appétit ) ...
wasps in the loft
~
wasps in the loft ( a n o t h e r ? )
…
there are wasps in the loft but my knees are bee-free there's a buzz from atop oft that buzz follows me when i pop down the shops for some jam & honey it's those wasps from the loft ( fuckers ) ...
who the fork are you?
~
who the fork are you? ( ? )
…
fear is a stranger saying hello who the fork are you? leave me alone fear is all gawpy glances & stares mind your own beeswax why are you there? fear is conspiring scheming & plots casting long shadows & the what-not fear is a city fear is a town fear is a wanker fear is a clown ...
resarf poetry 