a short poem about nothing

…

nothing is
the tartan paint
on your chocolate aga

nothing is the only
friend of billy-no-mates
& my favourite subject

nothing is available
in pairs of one
or magenta

nothing is the sound
of brian blessed shouting
in the depths of space

as space is a vacuum
like a giant dyson
or a massive hoover

nothing is an egg
– the fool before the fall
or a poltergeist’s new shoes

nothing is the sway
of this ancient woodland
on this stagnant day

nothing is the total sum
of sweet fanny adams
plus fuck all

…

train of thought

…

this is the eleven eleven

train for conclusion central

calling at spark it off park

ponder & wander on west

thinking caps north

detour street

umming and aahing east

furrowed brow cross

somehow south

what the fuck junction

chin stroke metro

light bulb moment road

& arriving in conclusion central

too bloody late again

– strikes permitting

…

&

…

& the lord said

let there be limeade

& yesterday died

when midnight sighed

& the traffic lights

turned sky blue

& a furrow was ploughed

on your fertile brow

& the romans scratched

their big noses

& the london eye blinked

in the wink of an i

& the morning wore

a green shellsuit

& the afternoon clashed

with its crimson skin

& the moral

is tossed in translation

& the rub

is a cat on a beanpole

& forever is

a spare pair of oxford shoes

& the internet

is not your long lost cousin

…

p r o v e r b s

…

p rocatination is a timely thief

r olling stones squash hedgehogs

o ne man’s meat is another man’s carrot

v anilla is the spice of custard

e very cloud has a shit load of rain

r ules were meant to arouse civil servants

b eauty is in the hands of the bee holder

s eek & ye shall firefly

…

an open letter to the open borders brigade

…

do you leave your front door open
with a breeze block – as a doorstop
open w i d e
like pacman at the dentist
( so the breeze can usher in … )

leaves & masks & plastic bags
detritus
from this system’s collapse

wanders come, the world is closer
sinking slowly, rats & goblins
piss upon your – d.f.s sofa
yoofs will nick your purple hair dye

rabid gangs
of chartered surveyors
& bards on the run – will trash your gaff

smash your mirrors
& eat your secret stash
of caramel freddos
& tunnok’s teacakes

while you’re marching
in a rainbow gimp suit
with green jackboots
begging uncle government
for open bloody borders

( ? )

…