The Earth is flat, blancmange-based & hollow & I once met Winter on a frosty-morning-morrow. Babbling about Christmas, Rizlas, bad snow, piss-beer plus - "I don't suppose you've grown my rose?" & then he magic-vanished disappeared. ~ Gone ...
Poems
when games go wrong…
Simon says stand on your left leg. Simon says hop on the spot. Simon says now put both hands on your head. Kill Simon.
can i stroke your poetry?
Can I stroke your poetry? Is it tame? Has it had the vaccinations? Is it house-trained & almost tolerant of children or will maim my face all hate & nasty machinations? Can your poetry do any mad tricks? the surrealsome 6, hex twig sticks & back flips, or bury a mouthy pheasant or perchance chase a bone - oh please tell me is your poetry sweet lovely's true epitome & free to a fairly goodish home? ...
random noctbservations
The sleepless sheep can flockin' count themselves cos part-time shepherds skive indoors, a puzzle book teeters precipice - wonky shelf as woodland turns, sleep-swears then snores. A barn owl has a dipole moment whilst pastures doze under Moon Cheese Head, but then a bike in the village plus a priceless trowel are stolen - they were askin' for it really, UNLOCKED SHED. Tut. ...
post-nap
39 & a half winks in yet feeling completely refreshed, I spring up with zing like an uncoiled thing - tracky beez, trainers, vest, jacket, dressed. I still miss the Plague of Justinian ...
the internet has hairy palms too
The internet has hairy palms too just like Jesus, your mother or you & this may well BOO! & come as a shock but when really thought about clearly explains a lot ...
quite ominous stuff
A loud thunder cloud clapped then some scaffolding collapsed as an evil wind blew so the Queen followed-through. A 1-headed magpie exclaimed a single sad sigh thence flew under a ladder as the lunatics grew madder. Plus all the cats were howling & the turtle doves were growling until it was clear to all so bollocks to crystal balls. Yes it's unjoyously unsurprising there's shat nastiness arising & this shite might get tough coz that's quite ominous stuff ...
21st century twaddle
My left sleeve smells of oniony yet none of the onions wreak of sleeve & neither of my big toes are buniony I can stand quite comfortably - 15 sugars please. All roads lead to Prietenegg not that hungry but I'd like an egg preferably scrambled as the language of the brain or Humpty Dumpty - post-he-fell-tumbly - so welcome to our domain x ...
1 of these daze…
A cacophony of broccoli - it's a brassica-based monotony, a demonic-lampshade & a CABAL of sinister lampreys. An estate agent with a spine & soul, a maenad sleeping & a rather arsey troll. The Plague of Justinian plus a Troop of Morris Men but very nearly - bloody almost if I was me I'd blame them ...
no added shudder
Winter arrived unannounced last night a brief smidgening of snow-stuff the cheeky shite, a dainty scattering of white shit the seasonal squit but with plenty more in store I'm sure do I mind? - Not a bit x ...
