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the old cesspit ( some shit what i wrote )
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the castle's gone there ruins lie the village well has long since dried time dawdles on into the night ( but ) the old cesspit still stinks of shite ...
Poems
a velcro poemz
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a velcro poemz ( some fuckin’ poetrys or others )
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so come to me like velcro roughly mid-arms elbows bring me pollen data i'll detach it later with fuzzy felts & old hips post it notes that won't stick missing pets & cold sores holy grails & coleslaw the complete works of dick'ead the lost gnomes of lost sheds pantomime horse bridles magnetic spin cycles strange birthday cards from strangers antichrists in mangers come to me like velcro roughly mid-arms elbows ...
shapetastic
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shapetastic ( a contemporary easter card list )
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makes shapes create your own shapescape
isosceles
great shapes of ape
inscribe on stone like petroglyphs
or wave a sound
a round of drinks
speak hexagon plus spherical
dimensional
numerical
rectangular - squared pegs in holes
( please don't spiral )
( out of control )
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weasels keep on popping
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weasels keep on popping
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yes weasels keep on popping exploding out-the-blue yet no one really knows why for some reason they do we've tried blaming the weather each other & ourselves acts of god or 'terrorists' but that shit never helps the science folk are puzzled they'd answer if they could the governments says keep calm but stay away from woods one blast could rip an ear-off or kill you if you're old thems old trad rhymes - they know why pop goes the weasel ( that's us told ) ...
hazel
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hazel ( a short burst )
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your eyes are almonds & they glow quite green as the pistachio your sneezes too they follow through a-a-cashew - cashew? bless you your walls are loons as raving peas your home too has mad cow disease all it adds up - no ifs or buts my dear hazel you're fucking nuts ...
sundown sinking
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sundown sinking ( 24 lines of read )
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sundown sinking bowing heads going down like flasher's kegs bismarckically endgame shite dead swan star song bright twilight mrs wilson come & see golden kisses slobber trees bits of carrot in in their mouths too polite to spit it out thrushes fluster in their roosts impatient owls start to hoot hallowed be thy shit 'ot rays the night is nigh t'ra day ...
late autumn gulps
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late autumn gulps by sixteen lines of seasonal verse-shat
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late autumn gulps a precious breath surveys its damage what is left the trails of gales yet lovers swoon but hedgehogs sleep as winter looms there's mistletoe there to be seen summer is hiding in the green of holly leaves & ivy too as scrumpy ferments ( that'll do ) ...
what peoples does
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what peoples does by xvi line read
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astronomers & oceanographers mute town criers welders typographers equine dentist's young apprentice bearded ladies maybes adventists witch doctors & / or witch nurses lovers ~ others kinsfolk curses pontius conscious pilots fly us this is is us what peoples does ...
this writing lark
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this writing lark by 8 times 2 lines of read
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this writing lark themz mentals quills our rich patrons some thrills - neck frills our learned peers a good egged bunch we discuss art over some lunch my latest dirge was inked for thee we shall not speak of dysentery our libraries our antique desks our fantasies fill in the rest ...
a night storm
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a night storm by michael’s fishy
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it came from the south it came from the west it first twatted cornwall then devon was next it spread like herpes in a monastery it battered them hatches it shat on them trees which bothered them owls as it was then night all them phantoms cowered in fear of its shite things cleared by daylight still of wind or rain just blue skies 'n' sunshine please come back again ( x ) ...
resarf poetry 