let's shun cardigans but still pen poetry then it's like diving without the bit where you breathe into the depths of madness insanity's black vastness or if that's too much too soon then why not roll-up your sleeves ? ...
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elcric lluf
on a clear day i can see cheeky faceless he beyond the horizon but never the front instead as from the tips of hilltops yes frequently i will spot conditions permitting it's the back of my head ...
upon awakening ken enning
upon awakening ken enning 'come on kenneth, get up' upon awakening ken enning he didn't like that much upon awakening ken enning he punched me with a low blow upon awakening ken enning so i smothered him to death with his own pillow -oh no r.i.p ken enning the end (ing) ...
yadnus retsae
easter sunday is here no tinsle snow or mistletoe but sometimes these things get up-muddled then fuddled easter sunday is here it's the aftermath of christ's prank the annual crucified scamp with an empty tomb for all there to see & a chocolate partridge in a pear tree ...
the truth is stranger
yes the truth is stranger than fiction as in real-life black beauty was a kraken who terrorised the 7 seas with tentacles for centuries anna sewell's an equine wind-up merchant - that's what actually happened ...
great literary secrets
yes shakespeare was a thousand chimpanzees on typewriters bashing letters fraudulently until another play emerged not that there's a rush 'cause they had bags of time 'n' ink plus decent monkey-drugs ...
the thought that counts
there's nowt more ugly than money but our world is run by bankers - the wankers in the depths of this now post-land of milk & honey where you can still read this poem for FREE ...
potentially hazardous
torrential rain hill fog may contain traces of diphtheria creaky doors the common cold dark days of yore asbestos & hazelnuts ricin rice cakes latex gloves slippery floors a wonky shelf then there's always weasels popping - so watch y'self ...
glove on a branch (a true story)
one happened to chance upon a glove on a branch beside a grey rainy lane yes it deserved a second glance then photo graph (cue special dance) 'cause luck's a fickle fuck but that's a bastard glove on a branch ...
dawn of the bud
on the brink of the incipient the coming of the budding on the verge of the scourge of that infernal vernal it mocks from the branches with embryonic glances 'fear us now' it's telling me 'our sticky bud supremacy' ...
resarf poetry 