mayday calm

~

mayday calm  (  a  p o e m  )





there is no panic, still there's time

it's early, blurry stirs the mind

as birds they sing in chirpy chimes

as curtains stir - up come them blinds


the water still flows in yon stream

as queens awaken from their dreams

& lambs bounce mad - they're full o' beans

i haven't heard a frantic scream


as morris men awake & yawn

then dress with bells upon this morn

those doom-merchants have yet to warn

of blah - blah - blah plus warring storms


i plod that path beside the barn

upon that hill wearing no charm

for luck i clutch air in my palm

which does the trick

it's mayday calm

...






























unamused

~

unamused  (  s o m e  p o e t r y  )




what's funny about farms?

what's funny about about bones?

i grew up on a farm

was that a funny home?


my skeleton beneath

has never-ever spoke

let alone tickled folk

with a funny joke

( ? )

...



























bastard chapters

~

bastard chapters  (  s o m e  p o e t r y  )




dog-shit-free shoes - wanker trainers

broken toe groans - fortune favours

the jammy & thin ice skaters

lucky twats

their fluky capers


worse things happen at dot-dot-dot

dick'ead clichés & their what not

tangled rambles - daft apeth knots

fucking swearing

that hits the spot


no blister weeps of a morning

like a bellend, frogs are spawning

hobble home quick - gobshite's calling

take no ice bath

'stead get scrawling


as that crow flies - scratch a surface

shit on paper, burn a furnace

bastard chapters - scrappy verses

sadness blessings

happy curses

...


























































fuck off

~

fuck off   (  a  p o e m )





the ostrich has bolted

your feathers have moulted

your business has folded

your peasants revolted


your park is a wasteland

punctured are your armbands

the penny has dropped &

sunk beneath sinking sands


your attics been rummaged

shat out is your roughage

you're packed in as luggage

good riddance bad rubbish


it's night where your sun shone

pure gravy since you've gone

hands wavy - you've done one

fat ladies sing swansongs

...













thoughts from a shed

~

thoughts from a shed  (  a  t r u e  t a i l – o f f  )



imagine who

invented the trowel

among the pots

thoughts from a shed


in olden times

& next wonder how

folk reacted

yes - what was said


'twas witchcraft then

then mad masses howled

& screamed in fear

bring us his head


( or else her head )

in days far from now

no doubt they burned

until well-dead

...