Poetry

shaturday



Infuriated by cross stitchers, lark twitchers

& harp pickers.





Genocide, the M25,

that wicked bee hive

& the stench on Fly-Tip Drive.





Then shafted by the MINING INDUSTRY, a minor celebrity,

~ that shat brevity ~ ,

a distinct lack of levity

& non-longevity.





Artistic gymnasts, Benedictine skin flaps,

holes in Poundland bin bags

plus the pun had run away

- you bastard Shaturday

x

...

terms in contradiction


Poetry is practically invincible

like a tough young Buddhist cat,

a ball-resistant moth

or a warfarin tolerant rat.





As poetry refuses to die

like a relative

- well fortified & remaining unconquerable,

with the keep tower standing proud

its lofty attic in the clouds

but in many ways

it's still very vulnerable

...

the sun is secretly belgian

The Sun is secretly Belgian

but it's never told a soul

like Eddie Merx,

Stella Artois

or the Smurfs

for fear of losing its sway

& control.





As some Sun worshippers

would demmand blood if they found out

& no doubt

switch their allegiences

to the moon (!),

oh the Sun is secretly Belgian

& Jupiter's diabetic

but don't tell a single sausage

or that sun will come for you

...