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blowing gnosis ( some a poetry then )
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ring-a-ring psychosis
head, shoulders, knees - osmosis
all warring like those roses
as sure as sure supposes
that home is where the ghost is
trombonists with thrombosis
foggy myxomatosis
then us all blowing gnosis
( ? )
...
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loose thoughts on change ( a ‘chuh-chuh-chuh’ poem )
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what is change
beyond of course a key
( ? )
change is a chrysalis
plus change is the sea
loose pennies
yes - change is rearrange
makeovers & werewolves
embracing
the strange
...
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sourcing ( a poemz )
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this poem is an orphanage wreak-leaking of gas at night time in a power cut ( light a candle ) ( with a match ) ...
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an interlude ( warning: may contain traces of asbestos &/or verse )
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so this here is an interlude
blown bubbles through some limbo land
a hiatus - ice cream in lieu
a recess from some grander plan
delays within an interim
a detour down them cul-de-sacs
before things again rebegin
enjoy it - these things cannot last
...
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how snow melts ( an obbzurrvayshunn )
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first stirs its sleep comatosed sheets then drip by drip in bits of weep retreats the white under daylight what's liquid may freeze come the night oft gradually thaws tortoisely then foliage again to see on higher ground it sticks around that's how snow melts ( or so i've found ) ...
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leaky stuff ( a true tale of woe )
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yes information leaks from me
maybe within there lurks a mole
certain key words lie splurged on streets
so find that traitor - block that hole
( ? )
my journal from last whitsun eve
is soon to be a west end play
that mental note i wrote last week
arrived in the post yesterday
( ? )
...
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( magic lads grow ’em ) ( an observationsal )
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magic lads grow 'em puberty breaks the spell sages are flummoxed & science types as well blum-fluff moustaches yes - technically it's hair hair of the anus so how does it get there ( ? ) ...
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q-ing ( a small q )
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quentin quaffed quintessential quicksand - quiet - quacked quintus ( quiet ) ...
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because you’re boring ( a life-shite poem about someone who insists )
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because you're boring flowers hide when you feel inspired to write squirrels they scurry up them trees to their dreys - their sanctuaries them clouds shelter the sun away where it glares behind their grey all nature panics all mucks in when verse stirs coz you're boring ...
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bus station poem ( a real-life scribble )
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at bay twenty's
human zoo
patience - stations
queues for queues
old folk natter
that & this
odd folk they write
shit like this
un-tinned sardines
waiting for
godot or the
six point four
or the rapture
trumpets blown
( hurry driver )
( help us home )
...
resarf poetry 