Poetry

instead of a poem

…

a cold rice pudding
fresh out the can
stodgy yet lost

& an icicle which since
melted in my hand
from last night’s frost

a sellotape roll
without a found end
so good luck with that then

an unwritten book
with white space within &
no isbn

the latest normie goss
about yours truly
none of which is true

five pence in change
two twos & a one
no receipt – now shoo

…

promo numpty

…

your advert goes here
the one about the holiday
in smug sunshine
or the latest wearable
that we’ll never wear – because
that’s n.p.c ‘reepy
or your miraculous pile cream
or chocolate flamethrower
whatever you wish
( dear mister e.washy )
to flog us all with next

…