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cripes & out the other one ( a poem but there are worse things … )
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don't baffle the badger
or flummox the fox
don't puzzle the polecat
you'll give 'em the pox
don't bother the otter
or garble the lark
don't wobble the weasel
or things could turn dark
don't addle the adder
or tickle the toad
don't headfuck the heron
or you'll shit your load
...
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stoat songs of photons ( a little poem of mine )
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stoat songs of photons & smoked mackerel skies onions & bunions then blackbirds in pies omens as slogans at circa sunrise i sit & listen no music have i ...
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humming at inquests ( a poem )
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humming at inquests & singing in court heckling weddings & burping in church wearing the wrong hat for wednesday - of course but faux pas in minefields are surely the worst ...
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no one wet wipes ( a ? )
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no one wet wipes along this elf but i, this broccoli ...
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from great urns ( a smack my keats up versus the met office of a poem )
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scattered from great urns above us spattered bits in bursts of sputter grey meets green & other colours life & death are cousin-lovers staggers here & taps on awning chattered words & birds as warnings cakes awake & serpents yawning sprinkles on a half-baked morning pattered earth & maybe riddles jabbered codes of brainy fizzle muffled drops & building trickles listen to the summer drizzle ...
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( ? )
…
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a different toothpaste ( a poem )
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ants in pants & phantoms three
jacobites & raspberries
aunties stuck down lead mine shafts
cowpats, hats & bramble trees
plastic maps & galaxies
huguenots & blackberries
westward ho! for stomach ache
nettle stings & fallacies
thoughts of socks & saxony
hoses trot to canterbury
lizards sing for liquorice
post-it notes & tapestries
random scraps of sanity
hedges, bets & strategies
puddles of a muddled kind
rainy daze & rhapsodies
...
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another limerick ( a ? )
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the gibbons blew ribbons of rust as tuesday was carrots & dust the otters were green the ants were machines when phonecians jiggled their nuts ...
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bat flaps & hip flasks ( a ? )
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bat flaps & hip flasks myrmidons make marmalade every pebble counts ...
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cutlery ( a poem )
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all my knife i've been a spoon i've stirred sweet tea & supped hot soup i've seen great mains & puddings too so who the fork are you ? ...
resarf poetry 