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please help if you can
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this village is becoming increasingly posh don't take my word for it just look at the shops the baker's become yet another salon the greengrocer's copped it once staples - now gone but three bridal shops ( ? ) there's momentum - we're moving the barber shop now it does bespoke male grooming estate agents, southerners kids with weird names but i'm still a scroat though resisting this change ...
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daytime television by hdwe73t4@~#
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daytime television quizzical trivial antiques for antiques seldom metaphysical dumbing down numbing now confused afternoons adverts fuck off cheer up & now the news ...
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impostors, a brief study by nduwhr3yru.9
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impostors eat red liquorice & claim it's the cousin of black whilst assuming fancy names like edwin photon-cataracts impostors never blow their nose yet smell of smell a rat they can be killed - with a trowel through the heart but that's another story is that ...
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what is monday? by olaf spangles
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what is monday? is it real? how does monday make you feel? what's its essence? what's its core? can its magic open doors? ~ can we pat it on the head pretend it's a dog instead? ' good boy monday please don't bark giz 5 minutes then we'll go down the park ' ...
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breath by erejuk905k.3
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breath a release the out-bit of breathe the release of breath ( don't leave me yet ) ...
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little roman bird poem by hadrian’s wallchart
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in my local museum there's this little roman bird we have stare-offs regularly that bird sits still, unstirred ~ i wonder what its name was what secrets that bird keeps? they chuck us out come closing time if pottery beaks could speak ...
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chin song by piccalilli circus
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if you're clever & you know it stroke your chin otherwise they might think you're quite dim so if you're clever & you know it & you really wanna show it if you're clever & you know it stroke your chin ...
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bliss times 2 by hugo fuck-yourself ( rigid x )
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every poet is a twat this is a sad poet fact if you somehow disagree you're ideal write poetry ...
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dear auntie flo, by erasmus photonics
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dear auntie flo, it's september here & i'm bussin' it to town some sun - some cheer as i pen this piece from this window seat do you still make jam plum, raspberry or peach? ~ dear auntie flo, did i make you up? yes probab - er - ly so my mind is fucked i hope september's with you too if you're real your odd, confused nephew ( x ) ...
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i like songs me by franklin ankles
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i like songs me tra la la la especially the words bah bah bah bah coz when they run out doo doo be doo then they still carry on yeah yeah yeah ooh ...
resarf poetry 