Poems

july salad

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july salad ( dalas yluj )

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elsanta claws
strawberry cryptids

treehouse fledermaus
thrombosis bossa nova

clover trombonists
toe dip diatribe

iceberg letterheads
lettuce in the post

man o’ war mornings
cervix with a smile

cats in orbing balls
willow the whiskers

spring heeled sprinklers
jack o’ the greensleeves

athlete’s foot spa
deep blue barbecue

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rain dance off

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rain dance off ( ffo ecnad niar )

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clops upon the roofs
it’s the cloven hoofs
of a pygmy goat

underneath the grey
sailors reel away
on a pea green boat

prancing with the lamb
when the welkins slam
as the treetops waltz

yonder trots a fox
jigging bits ‘n’ bops
when the sun’s horse bolts

thunder rumbas drums
gutters speak in tongues
when the frogmen tap

fading in the close
shades of twinkle toes
then the rainbows clap

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more definitions of a poemz

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more definitions of a poemz ( zmeop a fo snoititnifed erom )

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songs from beyond
a bonce upon a time

missives in the mist
tusks upon a tongue

ghosts in the post
letters from the otherlings

the notes of a scrote
on the worldwide cobweb

prose & music’s mutant
offspring offerings

rhymes from the original
channel effing tunnel

scribbles & quibbles
in your rotten cabbage diary

yet my sweet achilles
heliotrope

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poets on strike

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poets on strike ( ekirts no steop )

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quell the feathered quills
sleeping now like arthur

toss aside your vellum
put down your thesaurus

the book of synonyms
untie all cravattes

lob the trusty ink well
as if a molotov

in the rubbish bin
outside the town hall

mindful of section five
on the picket line

with all the marxist bards
who’d like to buy a house

before the revolution
as then we’d all own nada

we, the fuming few
the ginger lovechildren

of music & prose
with vestigal toes

we, the unsung glue
blue plaques of the future

who kiss the ruddy cheeks
of miscellany’s anus

chanting – give us freebies
cash & online likes

poets on strike
so write your own shite

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poetry f.a.q’s

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poetry f.a.q’s ( s’q.a.f yrteop )

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is rhyme a hangable crime?

can i stroke her tail

& feed her magic beans?

is she in me genes?

will she shine my shoes

& burn my toast each morning?

if i write five in a row

will my elbows explode?

if i read six in one sitting

will my skin become corduroy?

can i still avoid soy?

are batteries included?

can i plod her marshlands

or will she suck us under

like a polo mint?

are words optional

like ironing a shirt

or looking both ways before crossing?

is she available in turquoise?

can i scale her east face

solo in a thunderstorm

in a pair of underpants

with a leaden pencil?

can i kiss her tentacles

or tickle her phantom udders

with a phoenix feather

or gossamer from the attic

as a skylark barks?

do i have to wear a cravatte

& pretend i care about shat?

does she glow in the dark?

is she banned in denmark?

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cool poem

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cool poem ( meop looc )

…

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this poem is the corpse

of a cucumber farmer

still wearing shades

in a haunted mortuary

~

a vortexed breeze

in the doldrums of january

blue moonbeams

or jack frost’s handshake

~

this poem is the mermaids

that swim europa’s oceans

or a lost sunbather

in the deepest dark of space

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cubes in the glass

of your homemade lemonade

sipping as she fizzes

& bubbles in the shade

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this poem is the dogs

– sploshing in the river

& polar bears smoking

p.g tips

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this poem is cool

like a second hand cagoule

or a yeti in an ice bath

– top that, y’ tool

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