Poetry

have you seen the trees?

~

have you seen the trees? ( ?seert eht nees uoy evah )

…

hairy fairy aerials
wooden antennae

stubble of the land
hugger of i

on a wander’s pause
watchers of the forest

towers fit for owls
dendrous cousins

them of up above
dryad gaff’s

pixie apartment’s
lumberjack fodder

sunbeam deflector’s
squirrel castle’s

bracers of gales
barking like a dog

battlers of storms
tamers of the jet stream

shades of the glades
rain neutralisers

have you seen the trees?
logged & noted too?

our friends arboreal
as they’ve seen you

…

pinch another punchline

~

pinch another punchline ( enilhcnup rehtona hcnip )

…

mizzle of a morn’
walking in the sheet
under scrumpled thunder
plodding sodden feet

piffle in the head
lead between the legs
scribble up a riddle
then the pencil smegs

metaphorically
‘neath the weaving skies
seeking eager egrets
herons in disguise

buds upon the bare
branches where the bears
crap within the copses
or the boxing hares

yes, the west is east
when the north is south
spinning in the midlands
muddles in the mouth

rabid rabbit’s white
’tis another moth
pinch another punchline
sigh & bugger off

blowing with the crows
flying as the bar
’til the spring is ringing
chiming like a star

…

twenty twenty toodleooh

~

twenty twenty toodleooh ( hooeldoot ytnewt ytnewt )

…

see the evening starlings

where the air is up

      walk a muddy path

      laughing like a mallard

wonder like a bra

can flying fish swim?

      can they see space

      from the great wall of china?

is the queen a bloke

with a royal todger?

      maybe, if prince phillip

      was her birthing ladyboy

anyways, the moon

is crooning of a future

      but the moon’s unjabbed

      & hasn’t had a booster

soon she shall be cancelled

selene in a gulag

      when the karens moan so

      sing before the storm

parp another parsnip

from the annal’s passage

      pen another then

      scratch your hairy annus

…

time loopy

~

time loopy ( ypool emit )

…

after a catnap
reinvent the wheelbarrow
or the drawing board

or the drawing board
yet the egg’s a scrambled code
lower the drawbridge

lower the drawbridge
wander in the evening fog
dreaming of daylight

dreaming of daylight
as the jabbers boost the beast
toodleooh t’you

toodleooh t’you
sighing for a mug o’ tea
sing the kettle on

sing the kettle on
nestle in a speckled book
chapter eight again

chapter eight again
chapter nine is calling i
after a catnap

…

collectivism will tear us apart

~

collectivism will tear us apart ( trapa su raet lliw msivitcelloc )

…

swans upon a dreaming daze
songs beyond the river’s haze
of a morning’s nature walk
seeking beaming solar rays

music is a mutant key
stirs the steaming soup in me
ticks the cockles, warms a box
all’s an otter’s odyssey

so the pickled poems flow
where the haring air is fro
like a shrew within y’ shoe
moorland’s calling – climb ‘n’ grow

seek the purple heather – quick
sucking not the rainbow’s dick
bending not a knee or neck
worship not the needle’s prick

let the herded cattle moo
lost with not a pissing clue
swivel little villagers
swimming in the ‘rona’s pooh

wobble this ‘n’ sounding that
bouncing ‘neath a bobble hat
be an individual
normalzzz is a fucking twat

…

bakewell tartaria

~

bakewell tartaria ( airatrat llewekab )

…

bakewell tartaria

a frangipan land

      with raspberry jam

      & flaky butter pastry

the almonds of yore

with rivers of custard

      a pudding erased

     ( as seen in daydreams )

the internet’s abuzz

– of course they still had teatime

      during all them mud floods

      in the daze of yon

so put the kettle on

& let the steam scream

      drool on a stool

      & type yourself normalzzz

prod the phantom veil again

flee the cave unchained

      smoke another bifter

      sing a wanker song

a flan for all seasons

for truthers with sweet tooths

      & pubes upon their palms

      who think this egg’s a dome

( nob’eads )

…

( author notes )

this poem is dedicated to the late archbishop desmond tutu

who’s now in heaven with his father, desmond one one

so thoughts & prayers to his wife, mrs. tutu

& their lovely baby boy, desmond three three

– long live the desmonds

…