Politics

r i v e r s

~

r i v e r s ( s r e v i r )

…

r ow y’ boat upon

      raspberries ‘n’ onward thee

      ripple as y’ go

i n between daydreams

      is the realm of kingfishers

      idle like the flow

v oyage on the clear

      view the future through the cracks

      visions reappear

e nvoy of the dry

      earth’s submerged emissary

      egrets dwelleth here

r eeds beneath the glass

      roaches, pikes ‘n’ sticklebacks

      rubber duckies quack

s eeking seabound sounds

      sing below the grassy banks

      so she singeth back

…

if you don’t write …

~

if you don’t write … ( … etirw t’nod uoy fi )

…

the birds will go on strike
& picket line the springtide

dawn will lose her chorus
( subtitles unavailable )

as the normalzzz soar
in a bland of opportunity

you, a one of we
the weird beyond the blear

will smoulder as the smoke
on the sixth of november

disappear like keys
or a conjuror’s rabbit

up the back passage
of aimless anus lane

feasting on the bugs
in a philanthropist’s bluetopia

the pens will run dry
like a cursed herd

the spoken word commando’s
of tiktok will rise

like the ghost of mordred
from the lurking shadows

so the sun will shine shades
of shite – not gravy

…

the truth about train conductors

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the truth about train conductors ( srotcudnoc niart tuoba hturt eht )

…

they’re always born
on a wednesday teatime

delayed because the trees
went on strike

so there were no leaves
to use as an excuse

on the lines between the stations
& other destinations

as gremlins nicked the sleepers
senior management ate quail

& another swan dies
on the duck pond of despondency

…

rain dance off

~

rain dance off ( ffo ecnad niar )

…

clops upon the roofs
it’s the cloven hoofs
of a pygmy goat

underneath the grey
sailors reel away
on a pea green boat

prancing with the lamb
when the welkins slam
as the treetops waltz

yonder trots a fox
jigging bits ‘n’ bops
when the sun’s horse bolts

thunder rumbas drums
gutters speak in tongues
when the frogmen tap

fading in the close
shades of twinkle toes
then the rainbows clap

…

cool poem

~

cool poem ( meop looc )

…

~

this poem is the corpse

of a cucumber farmer

still wearing shades

in a haunted mortuary

~

a vortexed breeze

in the doldrums of january

blue moonbeams

or jack frost’s handshake

~

this poem is the mermaids

that swim europa’s oceans

or a lost sunbather

in the deepest dark of space

~

cubes in the glass

of your homemade lemonade

sipping as she fizzes

& bubbles in the shade

~

this poem is the dogs

– sploshing in the river

& polar bears smoking

p.g tips

~

this poem is cool

like a second hand cagoule

or a yeti in an ice bath

– top that, y’ tool

…