picnic in the rain

~

picnic in the rain ( nair eht ni cincip )

shiver on a bench
bathing in a sunless grey
bask in britain’s drench

as the stratus gush
buckets on this darkened park
bread is formless mush

sandwiches collapse
like a castle on the beach
as the tide attacks

cirrus rat-a-tat
spilleth cups of former fizz
lemonade is flat

crisps have lost their crunch
where the piss is pounding down
sodden is this lunch

still the river roars
run before it eats us all
bugger off indoors

magnetic rats

~

magnetic rats ( star citengam )

see the us in we
shards of glass, a dark crevasse
splitting like a pea

as the demon skag
pricks apart the spark of heart
maiden, mother, hag

fading as a ghost
once a signet, since a swan
you’re tomorrow’s toast

i’m a blooming fool
not a willing sacrifice
daft but not a tool

all is scattered dust
butter fingers, sinking sand
sputterings of rust

drifting planks of wood
sob a song & cue the rain
bad is the new good

blue is green & gold
in your twisted mirror land
soon it’s black & cold

a u g u s t

~

a u g u s t ( t s u g u a )

pples tumble down

   another summer stumbles

   ants soar above us

nder shrouds of cloud

    ushering a hawthorn hue

    unicorns weeping

reen is greengages

   gourdish hordes of cucumbers

   grass is golden bales

mber is the sun

   until september nestles

   upon these thistles

he will sneeze again

   swooping on the prickled fools

   soothsayers say so

oads rain by teatime

   tomorrow pokes a wasp hive

   tossers scribble on

oh, what the folk?

~

oh, what the folk? ( ?klof eht tahw ,ho )

strumming the death of a legend
humming the rub of a bee
swigging a flagon of bitter
dumming the diddle in dee

roving the inns & the taverns
sleeping in stables & barns
hay in a feeder f’ breakfast
gold as the y’old in y’ yarns

rhyming the life of a wrong’un
lovers in peril & doom
farmers in lieu of a harvest
misery, merriment, gloom

jiggle the gist of a riddle
stroking the goat of a chin
stringing a cat with a fiddle
never ‘pon the violin

dressed as the ghost of a ploughman
bother the north & the south
prancing the pastures of midlands
straw in the side of y’ mouth

mincing along as a minstrel
under a trad-anon sun
scratching the balls of a ballad
oh, what the folk have y’ done?

stat shat

~

stat shat ( tahs tats )

twelve percent of hedgehogs

sleep beneath a garden shed

if six of seven seventeenths

splatter on a scatter graph

three percent of poets

wash behind both ears

one in two bootstraps

is secretly a shoelace

here be the p-value

chasing ratios

forty two in eighty eight

fat ladies sing

with the swans on the pond

parametrically

yet – sixty three medians

for every pickled egghead

pairing with a variable

divided by five

plus the sum of odds ‘n’ sods

as a fraction in disguise

as per neil ferguson

the man who’s never right

times nine variant

null hypotheses

minus two cockatoos

– who ate all the pie charts?

so nought percent of statisticians

can wipe their own arse

shrew, shrews & yet more shrews

~

shrews, shrews & yet more shrews ( swerhs erom tey & swerhs ,swerhs )

unloosen the shrews

shrews your weapon wisely

all shrew need is love

& walk a mile a mile in my shrews

shrew around this town

how do you shrew?

twisting like a shrew cap

make the headline shrews

’til it’s yesterday’s shrews

be the bearer of bad shrews

try not to shrew up

shining my new pair of shrews

tightening the shrews

between me & shrew

the devil & the deep shrew sea

we’ll be seeing shrew

a spiky sight

~

a spiky sight ( thgis ykips a

see the giant cotton buds

spotted like measles

on the grasses, greening so

in amongst weasels

adders circle underfoot

feast upon beetles

lo, upon the yonder’s rise

climbing like steeples

bristled as a paddle brush

prickled like needles

of a morning’s wander on

oh, it’s those teasels