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rush-job ( a p o e m )
…
each second counts time now is squashed great waves are tossed against the cosh not long have i i'm in a rush calm's far from here distant its hush & yet you there you gently waft with breezy ease you swish then swash sips of nectar from supping cups i'm in a rush - don't hold me up - ...
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mash & salad ( 1 0 s e c o n d r e a d ( . . . ) )
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apples unearth mixed leaf glum sharks are basking bastard sun eat more carrots dark this fun mash & salad yom num yum ...
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a grey may day ( a t r u e s t o r y )
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a grey may day spring mist & murk then showers fall on april's lies all's there somewhere my pen still works we need this now the ground's too dry so come on rain & soak your worst england expects as too do i torrents pour forth mighty clouds burst a grey may day ( gifts in disguise ) ...
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deskhead ( f o u r – l i n e – read )
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this desk is a mess this head is a mess my head is this desk this desk is my head ...
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my inner-busybody ( a p o e m o n i c e t h e m u s i c a l ( i n 9 – d ) )
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( my inner-busybody told me to ) write an article for the local parish news tut like a king & co-ordinate queues in god's absence & to keep an eye on you ( wankers ) ...
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weather the under ( a p o e m ( ? ) )
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the fox with chickenpox the weasel with measles the frog who's feeling off the anaemic weevil the snake with the burnt tongue the poorly poor baboon the snail struck by the runs i hope you get well soon ...
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drystone wall poem ( a p o e m )
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from the west country to the yorkshire moors then further & beyond well there's drystone walls through the fields they span up them peaks & tors since y'oldey days of yon it's those drystone walls once cement was scarce so they're everywhere scattered trails through the dales stand we we pray - don't fall on this bastard land here they scrawl their sprawl older than avalon yes, it's drystone walls ( x ) ...
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fools ( s o m e p o e t r y o f s t u f f )
…
( oh )
do stop making
a fool out of us
said the lemon
& the whipping cream
to the whisk
( but it's all in the wrist )
...
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there’s a bucket in my hole ( a t r u e t a l e )
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there's a bucket in my hole & there's a kitchen in me rat there's a settee down my keys & there's a tree stuck up my cat there's a hay barn on my fire & aye - there's soup within my fly there's a shadow of my shadow but don't ask us how or why ( ? ) ...
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there’s a ghost in me toaster ( a s h i t p o e m )
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there's a ghost in me toaster & a dragon in me kettle little imps in me fridge & in me cupboards the devil ( ! ) there's a troll in me fruit bowl which is more than i can handle wicked covens in me oven fuck it breakfast is cancelled ( forever ) ...
resarf poetry 