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the chickens in the yard ( a few ropy lines inspired by the photo )
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why living can be hard but the chickens in the yard well they don't give a fuck no - just a peck then a cluck ( yes ) those cowards they don't care as all's a poultry affair aye living can be hard but the chickens in the yard ...
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dilithmofu ( may contain traces of code & ropy verse scrambles )
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cats in mudflaps, dogs up trees alphabets swarm - abc murky waters - thoughts aint free ( wreckage is drifting ) cheese in holes & voles on heat 9152 - chicken feet cobwebs, scrolls & ferry tolls ( stirred serpents hissing ) knobbly gnarls, barking trees odd socks hiding within keys as glib mirth giggles with glee ( hope it is wishing ) soul harvest fest - muddled sleet spying glasses, bogged down peat ankle biters - eat my sheet ( username missing ) ...
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that undercoat ( a sunday story that’s only 1 day too late )
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god planned to paint over the white cliffs of dover magnolia - maybe ( ? ) or else sumit mauver ( ? ) or fluorescent tartan ( ? ) as white is quite spartan that undercoat stayed though let this true tale hearten ( all ) ...
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( ’nuff said )
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upon addressing a rumour ( some verse )
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dear utter shite
your wagging tongues
your poppycock
phenomenon
oh waspish ways
once i was stung
i felt it then
stop slinging dung
you need to feed
your stinking guts
- the gullible -
on them you must
'tis piffle-wank
no ifs or buts
so fuck yourself
thence suck thy nuts
...
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balls ( some balls-verse )
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balls, balls
it's all just balls
oh slimy crystals
yards & walls
balls, balls
leather on cork
& twats called jack
they're in your court
balls, balls
a bouncy spell
rubber, pig bladder
fucking hell
( yes )
balls, balls
& cheesy smells
so probably
bollocks as well
...
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crackin’ in ( coz rhymes can be free too )
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crackin' up? crackin' in tentacles pack it in kraken yous natterjack bubblewrap cul-de-sacs toad on road air pockets soothsayers eye sockets portents here bubble burst stub a toe ow - that hurts ~ phone a friend? make one up be a bee sup, sup, sup wear a face don a gown i've seen her around town vanishings stroke an ear candlemas disappear turnip wars piffle vest sandwiches ( bless this mess ) ...
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crafted by hand ( some truths & out the other one )
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all of these poems are crafted by hand no fancy machines as it's art - isan but just who is anne? you misunderstand no robotic prods just shat pen - that's grand as birds boss the skies as sheep graze the land one scribbles on sheets shit riddles of man it's bespoke ( of course ) all part of the plan so don't knock this wank 'twas crafted by hand ...
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biscuit fingers ( some shite for turdsday )
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if i had biscuit fingers i'd nibble at my digits i'd dip them in my tea then i'd be impaired ...
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the p in ptarmigan ( some more gubbins for the annals )
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you're not the c in cardigan or either b in barbican no - you're the p in ptarmigan ( your silence fools not me ) ...
resarf poetry 