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 ? ...
Poems
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 ...
i love you saint swithun
i love you saint swithun you're nothing like the other saints i love you saint swithun it's different this time i love you saint swithun it's not gay 'cause you've been canonized i love you saint swithun & i'm glad that you're mine x ...
yadnus retsae
easter sunday is here no tinsle snow or mistletoe but sometimes these things get up-muddled then fuddled easter sunday is here it's the aftermath of christ's prank the annual crucified scamp with an empty tomb for all there to see & a chocolate partridge in a pear tree ...
the truth is stranger
yes the truth is stranger than fiction as in real-life black beauty was a kraken who terrorised the 7 seas with tentacles for centuries anna sewell's an equine wind-up merchant - that's what actually happened ...
everyday’s only a blank page if you dismiss the invisible ink
everyday's only a blank page if you dismiss the invisible ink the scribblings of yesterdays disguised quite indistinct the meanderings of previously the potterings of yore yes everyday's only a blank page if you manage to ignore what's been written before ...
bouquet
this poem smells of the delian league a week last-sunday & cauliflower cheese this poem smells of neptune's moons all 14 of the beggars & confused afternoons this poem smells of your uncle's first car the shipping forecast a candle maker's memoir plus this poem smells of the kitchen sink so when every scent has blended - THIS POEM STINKS ...
a world within an onion & a place within a potato
a world within an onion but this this world is your onion yet man alive like this leek yeah fuckin' 'ell - it's unique it's a magical paddle if stuck up any shit creek. & a place within a potato this potato tastes of play dough plus the turin shroud's scrotum the arch deacon's arse crack & then i the young barn-hand-lad that takes us back x ...
