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but brussles has the sprout ( 34.578 second read )
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yes stephen has his evens & thomas has his doubts summer has its strawberries & trout lips have their pout well lucy has her locket robert thompson has his mouse babylon has those gardens & wendy has her house bigamists have their weddings & town criers have their shouts libraries have their bookworms little teapots their spout all pauses have a moment all wheres have thereabouts arthur wields excalibur but brussles has the sprout ...
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( all we really want a 16 line jaunt by ian van paragraph )
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galore galore we want it all the food must stuff the wine must pour galore galore don't spare you bore more napkins squire more podgy whores more sedatives we'll snore galore amphetamines we'll deck the halls & then ourselves carnage galore a til death brawl bodies sprawl floors - galore - ...
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hat query ( lines inspired by an old music hall banger-tune-anthem-tune )
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where did you get that hat
that pairs well with your threads
( ? )
from some bloody battlefield
prized from some dead sod's head
( ? )
an heirloom or whitsun gift
it sits so proud atop
( ? )
did it just appear one day
( ? )
- i bought it in a shop -
( a hat shop )
...
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( judas-dog by 8 lines of the poems )
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can i stroke your dog please? the one that climbs up trees the one that leaves you birds quite dead like rameses as gifts on your doormat often there's mice or frogs the one that prefers purrs to barks your judas-dog ...
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the winter black by your fit mum
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dusk is around four
darkness stays til eight
sixteen hours of black - gasp
midsummer must wait
hoarding brighter times
snoring - warm - indoors
in her head are meadows
soon to be explored
...
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tongue-in-cheek by 8 lines of rhyme
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there in my mouth my tongue-in-cheek not coventry or mozambique the arctic tern flies to & fro but tongues are stuck where can they go ( ? ) ...
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( the voice of the fridge by a poetrys of poem )
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my magnetic poetry kit told me parrot jet armpit turnips bastards moss pentecost wetlands uplands placate dross cherish dowager eczema vole flapjack mithras scroll loophole signets porous plinth screed indeed shuttlecocks ( & i agreed ) ...
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confused december ( 1 min read )
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ambling down this country lane dog beside us - sun above nothing much is on the brain just sundries, their like & such on a day that thinks its spring quite unseasonal ado pheasants strut - rabbits fucking december is well-confused catkins, blossom, new lambs - lo puzzling - is this a trick? shat knows just go with the flow happy easter - all that shit but seasons are fickle sorts now's winter lest we forget the next wind could freeze us all so don't count them chickens yet ...
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ramif … ( a poem-free-free-poem )
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horned or not they'll charge at you they'll headbutt - boss it - buck woollened backs can reach the sky so pray for lady luck ( aye ) be that village villain meddle with the ways of man have truck with all truckers but don't fuck with them rams ...
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( hangover poem ) by 18 lines of ‘ing read
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in the beginning there was sober now bells knell dogs piss on clover damn you shandy your hangover above my ( head ) there shats a plover a quiet drink became bender gay hunchbacks? i don't remember phuket - thought i then it's december i now sweat ( like ) a sex offender ...
resarf poetry 