Without really knowing what the waiting's all for optimists will form the back of the queue. They never look when crossing roads plus lick the back of all toads & oh so hopefully still sniff solvent-free glue. On the off-chance ...
still early
I thought of the Lollards burnt alive as I brewed my morning tea, like John Oldcastle & all them former heretics, I normally take no sugar - but suddenly needed 3 ...
consistently late
Having scattered & dispersed Dead Gran's ashes throughout the sewage works, I recall she mumbled something about a favourite oak tree before choking on a bay leaf - quick, the nurse ...
bastard judas brain bastard
My brain ran away but I'm not wordless, slightly rejected - aye yet yards off worthless. So now 1 wonders where the little shit went? Another park bench neckin' meths? Or has it run away to join the circus ? ...
pen pals
Pen pals, pen pals, a friend of the pen - they only type sparingly lest they offend them. Pen pals, pen pals, pens are the vital link - between the brain-scatter dawdles & the words preserved in ink ...
a tiny black hole at the bottom of the garden
There's a tiny black hole at the bottom of the garden - it must have just appeared there overnight. & from a safe distance I lob in votive offerings like hawthorn twigs or a Twix or Bombay mix & the like. Which it so-so silently gulps so assumably approves - yes in a strange way Dave & I have become bestist friends. Oh there's a tiny black hole at the bottom of the garden - but he's definitely expanding so now 1 ponders when will it end ? ...
pointless questions
No poetry doesn't know either what constitutes a poem - yet doesn't give a kucf or really care. No poetry just cracks on with it then defecates its THINK SHIT (TM) - conscious that it's there yet blissfully unaware ...
hazzards
Poetry could blow up at any moment, like a bomb or inflatable wife. Or a nursing home with a chancy wreak of gas leak, but that's the risk that's the joy & that's the art - all life x ...
naturally lit shit
release the rabid pronouns - let's let the bastards out to play, as there are still far too many hours & not enough owls in the day ...
disappointing storm
2 faces like thunder but presumably the silent type inevitably clashed. 2 faces like thunder in the absence of lightning cloud-head smashed - with an anti-climax (!) ...