( autumn isn’t spring )

~

( autumn isn’t spring ) ( gnirps t’nsi nmutua )

…

cuckoos sleep in their clocks

& in their cloudy land

      the daffodils are noted

      only by their absence

as the air is crisping

like a baked potato skin

      – hark, a parsnip parps

      ‘pon a brassy breeze

blast the phantom gas

moss is green – not grass

      babylon is fucked again

      up the arse ‘n’ all sorts

atlantis gargles

arthur snores on avalon

      – doors, doors, doors

      & all with creaky hinges

the days are getting dimmer

like a dyslexic meal

      toadstools croak

      & spawn – not toads

nights are creeping in – not out

with no hokey pokey

      to shake it all about

      – only foggy ghosts

…

cryptic crossword love

~

cryptic crossword love ( evol drowssorc citpyrc )

…

oh, my osmosis
in a satellite town
– perhaps a pickled plum?

i long for the touch
of your chartered accountant
gargling milk
in a rabbit hutch

& i daydream of kissing
your sweet peruvian
bothering owls
in a haunted sauna

like an anagram
of sixteen down
without the evening gown

but fate is a gibbon
eating orange omelettes
inside a giant blue shoe

& the day’s a sailor
skipping on the pier
with a priestly earwig
– not you

…

glimpses of the future thing

~

glimpses of the future thing ( gniht erutuf eht fo sespmilg )

…

five thousand pounds
per pyramid tea bag

six hundred k
for a pint of semi-skimmed

eight million dollars
for a sliced white loaf

two billion euros
for a pen & pad

tarquins super glued
to the dark side of the moon

silver spooned loons
egging on the puddings

a pigeon will shat
on your hat – next wednesday

wheelbarrows of cash
for a pack of jammy dodgers

…

alternative names for autumn

~

alternative names for autumn ( nmutua rof seman evitanretla )

…

harvest fest’ after party

conker season thing

michaelmas terminus

summer’s sequel

the goosebump months

winter’s prequel

goose bugger off time

mizzletide stuff

the chestnut episode

dawn of the parsnip

fungal slumber

old shuck’s stomping ground

wellingtons & cobwebs

the maypole’s downfall

the fog days of shudder

green leaves a’ leaving

ghosts a go-go

…

oooooh là là

~

oooooh là là

…

do they eat their chips
with frog’s legs
– not fish?

do they wear a beret?

& bicycle
in stripy jumpers?

are their boulangeries
on their high street?

perhaps a chemise
– tabac or piscine?

are their homes
lit by chandeliers?

do they refer
to their anus
as a tooosh

not in the doldrums
of derbyshire

but over the border
in ashby-de-la-zouch

( ? )

…

veg out

~

veg out ( tuo gev )

…

goodbye broccoli

goodnight carrots

laters potatoes

adieu sweetcorn

spinach – in a bit

( y’ tit )

& so to bed, beans

hasta la vista – leeks

see you anon, swede

nice one turnips

peace out – peas

au revoir parsnips

fuck off sprouts

…

humphh

~

humphh ( hhpmuh )

…

righting a song

in the wronging of along

hymns in the head

with y’ leaden legs of dread

trot like a fox

or a monkey with the pox

paws at the lights

as the even’ breeze – she bites

stop ’til it’s green

& the now’s a bouncing bean

gurn at the bend

with a poem what y’ penned

burning a page

in the book of endless beige

down in the frown

of a pickled onion town

then with a pen

& a rubber duck or hen

squawk in a line

or the local swine will fine

wait in the queue

but the queue won’t wait for you

dressed for the rain

but the rain – he never came

…