they hide behind bushes then flash us unawares then leg it off in the nud somewhere over there they sneak into our gardens in the perverse depths of night then in the middle of the lawn they shit a massive shite they babble next to us on buses when loadsa double seats are free clothed but recognizable please stop bothering me & so i shout through the morrow mist as birds begin to sing 'SHAKESPEARE WAS A FRAUDULENT WANKER - FUCKING POEMS, BASTARD THINGS' ...
Poems
science-shit
if that there archimedes had never-ever washed he'd have stunk to high-heaven & we'd be at a loss but he got in that bath then them waters got deeper thus inventing the word & moment - EUREKA ...
wild flowers among castle ruins
wild flowers among castle ruins the head's a beverage thoughts-a-brewin' as life plods on & all that glibness they say here's haunted a wraith i've yet to witness apart from the headless ones consequences - quencecons a punished uprising but now most of the stones have gone as bricks for the local homes scattered yet abound like these wild flowers but the other way around ...
glistening christening
may all not drown what sail in this poem may its trees bear fruits as its nymphs blow flutes has it had the jabs? has it been chipped & tagged? can it find profound - ideally via nincompoop? maybe one candlemas this poem will get married or maybe it's gay - also legal nowadays & maybe it'll burn young or outlive the sun so good luck little wanker the beginning's just begun ...
( … lunnchh … )
a poem in a sandwich it was packed with ornate language it didn't go down well (digestive tract struggled) but on the innards muddled the ink was slightly sweet yet subtle like chestnuts or fox must (some words swished in the stomach for a bit) ...
busy bodies
busy bodies interferin' curtain twitchin' window peerin' stick y' nose in stick y' oar in t' fill in your gaps 'cause y'borin' passin' judgement with disdain we don't do that yet no refrain instead y' tut with god as y' witness just fuck off & MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS ...
where’s squalor?
yes god's still dead & the newspaper read ombudsman found living in squalor but that geography has been a mystery to me with actual mist so beyond bare bones i never really bothered yet where is squalor non-scholar - shit bother i can't tell you shite where to begin it's in the local rag so we must be talking miles is it near denial or 'round the back of sin ? ...
a modest collection of little secrets
this little secret was discovered in a shoebox wedged in a hedge in the nowhere of the middle this little secret it never really had a name yet knew too much & ran away i found it in an alleyway this little secret well this one takes the biscuit it was passed down from a great-aunt who i still don't know existed & this little secret was once a set of ten before the other nine revealed themselves it's not a secret then ...
april fools day
april fools day tells day 'i'm may' - 'already, so soon?' day twigs come noon ...
elcric lluf
on a clear day i can see cheeky faceless he beyond the horizon but never the front instead as from the tips of hilltops yes frequently i will spot conditions permitting it's the back of my head ...
resarf poetry 