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gale – the hat thief ( story true ( a ) )
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yes there blows gale - the hat thief trying to steal our hats plus bits of trees wallets & keys & unspecified tat i stuck my favourite hat on as there upon my head one splodged a tube of supered glue ( she stole my mind instead ) ...
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grandfather was a clock ( a true tale )
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grandfather was a clock born of time keeping stock he died when i was five ( sigh ) we kept his hands & cogs ( plus ) some of his d.n.a stays with me to this day come midnight then i chime thrice each noon i do the same ...
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shrouded in miscellany ( all these poems should called this really, sorry … )
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there speaks the voice of raisin but not the voice of reason those novelists have lost the plot as woods scheme acts of treason your face is in the basin some stephens are uneven yon martians in the garden & in the attic - a demon yes brass bands they are brazen as spring's a bouncy season king arthur sleeps neath avalon & mum has gone to sweden trust not ravens or masons some fiery pyres are beacons fog's often fog yet dogs are dogs your fruit is bruised not beaten ...
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the spoon years ( nostalgia & out the other one )
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i grew up with no mirrors so i used to use a spoon to comb my hair, straighten school ties sometimes i'd pause & swoon i thought i looked quite unique with my special mis-shaped face part boiled egg & part baboon yet of the human race ( ? ) ...
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my other poem ( may contain traces of bolts, screws & of course, nails )
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my other poem is a bumper sticker there stuck to the back of well - my other car but my other car it is a tea clipper capable of space flight sailing star to star ...
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in other news ( some other news in that there of a verse )
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in other news the cat is fine the dog is dog i drank the wine with my hands bare i caught a fly whilst blindfolded the cellar's dry the t.v's died the dog is well not trapped down one there is no hell a hole was dug one sought the dead shambhala was down there instead please send more wine the pantry's full over my eyes i pull the wool that's yes better my ears have grown the birds are here their nest has flown the jumble's back fine is the cat last candlemas cat caught a rat that looked a lot a lot like you please come back soon in other news ...
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look darling, a starling ( potentially a gift for you )
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as shepherds are farming their crazed sheep are barking then spinning on farthings as clocks are alarming as march hares are sparring as coy fish are carping look darling, a starling how shit 'ot & charming ...
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story a short ( by some fuckin’ twat online other than youz … x )
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once upon upon moons of loads ago upon a once of time or goes the story so upon a one of once so tale & the begins the songs as per we sing but again never since ( the end ) ...
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nonsense talk ( some truths as poem )
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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 ...
