Bellends who scrawl bollocks in them notepads & such at the back of the bus should probably be locked up. In their own Special implement & daylight-free wing where they can't write a thing - but due to cutbacks... Hello & as ever, sorry x ...
Poem
in constant pursuit
In life I'm in constant pursuit of rainbows, as an analogy & sign of sunshine when the rain goes. Because as mnemonically-sure as Richard Of York Gave Battle In Vain, they all too briefly prism-dazzle then bugger off again. Wankers ...
breads will roll…
Poems are alive yet often vermin & sleep deprived all toss & turnin'. Poems are good friends of most knaves & thought-trains yet naturally wary of focus, plus understandably partial to mystery parcels & how they love munchin' on locust. Poems are the sounds of the bastard hills, poems are a lovely monkey in a dream, most poems shoplift but only from the big stores safe in the knowledge that they'll outlive the Queen ...
scene isle
Clearly blatantly British with no debate or messing like sticky toffee pudding, drum & bass or cross-dressing. Leaves on the line, morris dancing & grime as in the music or soot with an odd-sock on each foot x ...
brief spooky yarn
Beyond the circle drawn in chalk we heard a chattering of talk, of darkness from another time while we stayed safe behind its line. THE END ...
the old gods here
Yes, the old gods here have been very quiet now for coming-on-at-least-a-ooh-good-week, without 1 cheery warning or blatantly divine sign no, not a single boo, whisper or peep. Have they gone on holiday or have their powers gone away or maybe they're planning a surprise nasty flood? Maybe it's virus-related or possibly 'family problems' - I think they need more blood x ...
limitations
Noah neglected the fish - of course or maybe he was dull & thinking practically, during 1 of his sober less shameful moments thus reducing his Ark-size dramatically ...
your turn…
Beyond the soup, bread rolls & sandwiches & the scrolls in forbidden languages. In way of pigeon holes & boxes almost chicken paradoxes. & far from unpleasant pheasants plus the scare of perplexed - in deepest hay barn hinterland tell me what comes next ? ...
story fishy
"There's Got to be more to bastard life than this!" Exclaimed my Goldfish & fellow speaking Creature, Chris before collapsing on the sofa - good effort fish bliss. "There is" I replied "My memorable pal my Icthionic friend, just sometimes swim further - or possibly sideways you'll get there in the end" "As there's often more to this shite gilled chum than often again first appears" But Chris was sweetly sleeping & proper bolloxed by now so it fell on deaf fish ears. THE END ...
critique
Borderline late 1 Lammas Eve when nan had stumbled to bed, a fluorescent elf tapped on the back door which I ajared thence it said... 'Would you like to hear my poem? I penned it just for you, it has several Special stanzas plus a scant spin-off dance - it'll only last a minute or 2' ~ It was rubbish, utter bollocks ...
resarf poetry 