~
fun times ahead ( a ‘ckin poetryz of )
…
i wouldn't know what to play with fire anyway chessboards would burn as would decks of cards plus all contact sports are an absolute no-no ( so ) let's play with glass shards in bastard backyards ...
~
fun times ahead ( a ‘ckin poetryz of )
…
i wouldn't know what to play with fire anyway chessboards would burn as would decks of cards plus all contact sports are an absolute no-no ( so ) let's play with glass shards in bastard backyards ...
the later fuddles ( erm )
…
yes things aint what they used to do as things aint what they once were is what once were as was then what too before then which that then is this - but why? - ...
~
that undercoat ( a sunday story that’s only 1 day too late )
…
god planned to paint over the white cliffs of dover magnolia - maybe ( ? ) or else sumit mauver ( ? ) or fluorescent tartan ( ? ) as white is quite spartan that undercoat stayed though let this true tale hearten ( all ) ...
~
( ’nuff said )
…
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hedge pledge ( by sledge dredge wedge the 3rd )
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dead solemnly i hereby pledge my allegiance to all things hedge i fear most walls, trust not the fence we need something yes - hedge makes sense i'll trim 'em back, i'll clip 'em smart with nail scissors squint then it's art they'll bring me green, berries & knots defend the hedge or all is lost ... ( author notes ) knots = hawthorn blossom
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the onions are pickled ( some ? )
…
the onions are pickled in my opinion mumbled humble pythagoras ...
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balls ( some balls-verse )
…
balls, balls
it's all just balls
oh slimy crystals
yards & walls
balls, balls
leather on cork
& twats called jack
they're in your court
balls, balls
a bouncy spell
rubber, pig bladder
fucking hell
( yes )
balls, balls
& cheesy smells
so probably
bollocks as well
...
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keeping time ( a precautionary tale )
…
i like to keep a spare afternoon in my pocket next to them keys which i always need & a pleasant evening around my neck kept in a locket ( only to be opened during emergencies ) ...
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positive thoughts
( some non-offensive poetry but not poetry about the somme offensive )
…
a treasure trove
of mauve is stowed
down there, somewhere
maybe
?
( fuck knows )
...
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the land of sheep ( some shite )
…
this is the land of sheep - 'tis true this is the land of rams & ewes each blurry spring as birds they sing the population mushroom-booms this is the land of sheepish folk bashful shepherds asleep neath oaks in pastures green ( sometimes serene ) as wolves in woollen clothes encroach ...