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moorland calling

~

moorland calling ( gnillac dnalroom )

…

yonder whispers in the bonce
fuck the ‘rona, it’s a nonce
roam beyond the tips of tree
seek the tors & all at once

where the uplands kiss the sky
higher than a butterfly
hare upon a heather sea
with a twinkle in y’eye

see the seasons shifting shapes
april is a playful ape
or a soaring bumblebee
seeking greener scenes & scrapes

moorland calling, walk the dog
trudge above the river’s fog
plod along & wander thee
kiss a frog within a bog

lick a toad – we never know
breathing where the breezes crow
there the air is sugar-free
sweeter than a syrup though

chirrup on a speckled morn
whistle ’til a hymn is born
moor’s the pitch but not pih-tee
spring is singing summer’s spawn
…

s p a r k

~

s p a r k ( k r a p s )

…

s pring another hymn

shat from barren bowels

sewn seeds sprout

~

p luck from the aether

piss from empty bladders

pellets from the blessed owl

~

a nswer with arsenals

avacados, anoraks

apples & aardvarks

~

r elight the darkness

reinvent the trouser press

row y’bloody boat

~

k ettle on, seeking steam

kingfisher swishesque

– kick it up the fuckin’ arse

…

false starts

~

false starts ( strats eslaf )

…

it wasn’t dark or stormy
but stars above cried night

the rain in spain is spanish
the snow in togo’s fake

i’d never seen a goblin
until i met your mother

the road ahead’s behind us
another circle forms

so wear a pair of waders
the towpath’s underwater

the ice in iceland’s dry
according to a stagehand

alas, today’s tomorrow
the calendars a colander

& then we all ate coleslaw
upon your uncle’s elbows

a poet sang a sonnet
so all the jackdaws yawned

she is dicing onions
& weeping like a bellend

an ombudsman is born
so try to look exited

i thought that ingrown toenails
were just another urban myth
…

burnin’ on

~

burnin’ on ( no ‘ninrub )

…

back passage london
pudding lane anus
smokeless like the djinn
great balls of plasma

babylon bottom
fire flies from me
molten morning crap
incandescent end

vindaloo waterloo
fought on the khazi
joan of arc blazing
hotter than sun spots

krakatoa shat
rome is my rectum
listen as it sings
scotch bonnet swan songs
…

owl be the judge of that

~

owl be the judge of that ( taht fo egduj eht eb lwo )

…

hooting in a fruitful forest
as the even’ blither runs

giz a twinkle – who’s the oddest?
– she is pickled onion suns

tooting, swooping, scratching, catching
roaring forward’s pantomime

i’m a student & a hatchling
she’s the raisin in the rhyme

novels plotting, foxes trotting
badgers dancing, boxes croak

she is sparkles, marbles tossing
wiser than the cunning folk

like the gleam in golden syrup
– giz a feather off y’wing

older than a choral chirrup
younger than the lambs of spring

gift a paddle & a hammer
rock of aegis, other sulis

lady of me hazy manor
giz a spanner on a rummage

shat a pellet, bring the mettle
in the attic of a morning

source of all – the rest’s a vessel
as another daze is dawning
…

tomorrow never nosedive

~

tomorrow never nosedive ( evideson reven worromot )

…

no rogue meteor
or oak tree fall

on the trundle-trudge
of a morning walk

no thanks, cyanide
i prefer almond milk

in my tea or chai
stirred anticlockwise

busses will obey
the meantime’s table

perhaps i’ll catch a nap
but not the dreaded clap

no toad blizzards
or frog downpours

will croak on drown from heaven
& pop my cotton clogs

poets on a rampage
quills as sharp as hen’s teeth

can run into each other
& leave us scroats alone

let the buzzards buzz
& so the stoats will float

lark the dark away
death should go on holiday
…

rock ‘n’ roll poem

~

rock ‘n’ roll poem ( meop llor ‘n’ kcor )

…

rock ‘n’ roll a rockin’

& i’m rollin’ alright

with my rock ‘n’ roll sugar

on a saturday night

driving rollin’ wheels

& i’m feeling rockin’ great

with my rock ‘n’ roll honey

coz it’s nineteen fifty eight

roll a rock a rollin’

underneath a rockin’ star

with a rock ‘n’ roll quiff

& a rock ‘n’ roll guitar

rock a rock a rollin’

like a rollin’ rockin’ horse

or a cabbage in the attic

on a rockin’ chair – of course

rock ‘n’ roll a rollin’

in a twenty twenty one

rockin’ & a rollin’

but my memory has gone

in a rockin’ nursing home

with my long bald hair

& my long dead baby

but we just don’t care

( yeah )

…