( ? )

tisnart ni

…

the wheels on the bus

of the rail replacement service

      go round & round – when

      the unions put their foot down

until the traffic lights

turn blue for a change

      as that cosmic trickster

      is a constant spanner

as the sails on the boats

waiting for the isobars

      to clash like a martian

      in a red spacesuit

in between gusts

settle like the dust

      onto the cobwebs

      inside your nan’s knickers

so the wings of the planes

of origami airlines

      fly like a crane

      or a scrumpled ball of paper

into the recycling bin

of back to the drawing board

      until that effing drawing board

      is reinvented

…

miss ing

…

~
she went on a walk
for a country mile or two
on a wet tuesday in april
~
while pigeons shat
on the mayor’s car parked
outside the town hall ( in town )
~
& laundry maids
sang old, raunchy ballads
about the price of bread – & thereabouts
~
off she upped & went
with a knapsack packed
with lucozade & tracker bars
~
most polar bears
have never seen a ghost
& not all birds can sing
~
a piece of string
is the distance of its span
– no one’s spotted her since

…

august or bust

…

august or bust
the mugwart is calling

hello from the hedgerows
the blackberries beckon

a jigsaw above us
in herringbone pieces

the stone in your trainers
is fit for a peach

the morn’ is a muddle
the even’ tiptoes

the nettles still sting though
– yes, it’s one o’ those

so august or bust
octavian’s ghost

is prodding with twigs
& canes from the bean frame

…

yet change rearranged

…

the ducks fed me

      regurgitated breadcrumbs

& green duckweed

      scooped with their beaks

from the bottom of the derwent

      which flowed to bleaklow moor

north from the trent

      as a toddler mauled a staffie

their parents used to say

      it’s nurture not nature

in the park again

      yet change rearranged

so old biddies gathered

     high on aspartame

vaping & littering

      if their grandkids found out

they’d no doubt – be ashamed

      & blame the internet

leaves fell upwards

      from the ground to the trees

not one cottager

     stuffed inside the cubicles

of the gents bog

      which flushed like a dream

cyclists remembered

      what their bells were for

the ice cream van

     sold hot mister whippies

the moon shined bright – come noon

      & all the tossers jogging

watched where they were going

      & never hogged the path

…

all’s well that wells all

…

snippets in between
england’s rolling green

strolling like the skies
spreading butterflies

buttercups & buts
squirrels scratching nuts

tangles up ahead
brambles scratch the stead

why the where in whats
dash before the dots

splashing on the brain
static crackle rain

firmaments confirm
what we’ll never learn

floating like a ghost
letters in the post

pillared be the bark
of thy woodland – hark

owlets howl away
night becoming day

jam upon your lips
sticky fingertips

snippets in between
england’s rolling green

…

yet more bird news

…

hawks are on the rise

      since hawks were reclassified

as any creature

      with feathers & a beak

rising from the ashes

      like a hawk from the flames

as all the hawks quack

      by the blanks of the river

yet one hawk

      does not a summer make

& we can’t resist the smell

      of tandoori hawk masala

since the twitchers turned

      those ornithologists

shunned taxonomy

      & got rid of the goalposts

– look, there goes a hawk

      black & squawking so

up above the hedgerow

      formerly a crow

but no, another hawk

      r.s.p.b that ( y’ twat )

& a hawk sang

      in that there berekely square

…

a different breakfast

…

a bowl of cornflakes

again but instead of milk

– milk of magnesia

…

( author notes )

june is pride month
as i’m sure we all can’t help
but ‘effing notice

so i’d like to take this opportunity
to announce to the world
that i too am a trans

but i’m not a transgender
like a chap in a dress
or a gimp in a crèche
tossing off the curate

– no,
i’m trans-star sign instead
or more precisely
i’m a pisces born in a gemini’s body

i’ve always known i was trans-star sign
ever since i was a sprat
come the 27th of february
i’d hurry downstairs
expecting gifts & a chocolate cake
but nothing
for three whole months
until the 27th of may
because of science, time & societal norms

this was deeply hurtful
& designed to destroy my true self
but the those fascist bigots failed
big time
& although i despise all clichès
i really do feel that the tide is turning

yes, acceptance is only one
well-funded quango away
& soon my kind will have their own stripe
on the magic rainbow flag too

& hopefully some sort of operation
perhaps some artificial gills
or scales on my skin
possibly from some sort of
experimental booster shot
free on the n.h.s
( we all need more of them )

so long live pride
& respect my beautiful bravery
or else

thank you for love & understanding

( amen )

…