photography

nonsense talk

~

nonsense talk ( some truths as poem )

…



i love it when they say oh-kay

ooh look - a bird - is that the time?

i really must be on my way

enjoy your simple, little mind



there's gubbins blowing in the wind

such bollocks on the syllabus

it's good to question everything

you're full of shit like sisyphus



it's good to fuck about - it is

consider march - its boxing hares

yes magic's real like boring pricks

i'm on the ground & in the air



reality's insanity

so all or nothing's nonsense here

my other selves also agree

we're vetting too

please disappear

...

watching stars die

~

watching stars die ( reworking of an older post )

…




lobtailling, wasailling

cloisters, spume & elbow grease



thorpe cloud, the turin shroud

cauliflowers, thought police



titus oates, capsized boats

apple pips & envelopes



wheelbarrows, helium

hydrogen & artichokes



siren flash, catnip rush

eleanor of aspartame



weather vanes, fastnet, tyne

marmalade & acid rain



trombones & paper clips

save the carrot, swans with songs



flaming ghosts, babylon

a quick squint-blink

( & then it's gone )

...

not you sunshine

~

not you sunshine ( a vaguely poetical fuck off )

…




freezing air that touches my bones

& tells me then

i'm not alone


april showers still there in june

a constant as

the confused moon


thick autumn fog & raging gales

grim howling winds

blizzards & hale


are mates on which i can depend

not you sunshine

fair-weather friend

...

one man band split poem

~

one man band split ( a true tale )

…



all bands bicker

we did indeed

but musically

always agreed


yet all too soon

the songs went shite

the one fan died

time to take flight


new horizons

solo careers

no comebacks here

thanks for those years


my one man band

has seen its days

i've split & gone

- our separate ways -

( ? )

...

the month of feb

~

the month of feb ( some feb shat )

…



the month of feb

or so we're led

each day's a maze

follow that thread


winter's not dead

yet spring's ahead

celeriac

& roses red


rising like bread

as siblings wed

six fingered hands

things still inbred


so on we tread

with muddled heads

soon new plans hatch

the month of feb

...

midas piss

~

midas piss ( some contemporary pastoral bollocks )

…



the morn is gold

as midas piss

then palpitate

our minds are fish


among the air

on land - on feet

the sky's still blue

but bird song's sweet


like irn bru

so hit them fields

or so to speak

the earth too feels


as thoughts they drip

the many leaks

monsters still lurk

there in the deep


but fuck that wank

feel free to swear

there's no way that

ma nature cares


she made this shit

- oh look, a swift

with stuff they've nicked

for you - a gift


then thereupon

our footpath green

a clover grows

with leaves thirteen


so lucky us

truly we're blessed

this scenery

fills in the rest

...

no i.d ( er … )

~

no i.d ( er … ) ( some distorted truths & a bit o’ shit too )

…



i'm santa claus on easter day

the king is dead - confusion reigns

i'm lazarus punch drunk in may

so giz a hug - embrace the strange

the myth of self or so they say

these sequences the gods arrange

those silly games that men must play

so now i'm you

what's in a name

( ? )

...