( ? )

also known as

~

also known as ( sa nwonk osla )

…

the cabbage on a mission

the barking bard of derbyshire

the anti-n.p.c

the owl that wakes at dawn

the lark within the dark

the swordsman with a poundland pen

the fleshling in the realm of bots

the storm without a cup

the tread of pencil lead

the here in distant disappear

a bat amongst the pigeons

a stoat afloat in weasel land

the plod of odder socks

he who must not be name dropped

trad-anon’s son

the weirdo with a thousand faces

…

ode to a kettle

~

ode to a kettle ( elttek a ot edo )

…

rise in the dawning
shine before the sleeping sun
warming up morning

spatter & sputter
weaving in the sylphid mist
give us a cuppa

potion a potent
power from your dragon mouth
steam us a moment

fishes & physics
tickets to another land
lover of biscuits

brew me a b-line
dreaming through the afternoon
sing until teatime

huffing & heaving
roar beneath the blooming moon
christen the evening
…

the things we taste

~

the things we taste ( etsat ew sgniht eht )

…

rain on the tingles
of an outstretched tongue

sweet saharan sand
if she pisses from the south

gloopy spoons of custard
straight from the can

frozen pizza slices
– but i prefer the cooked ones

twisted tales of thule
& a hymn from hyperborea

spinning in the blizzards
of those polar vortices

mushy peas ‘n’ cheese
on a buttered, toasted crumpet

bluebottles buzzing
in our curried parsnip soup

fresh bull dung
from the paper’s latest headline

vindaflu ‘n’ chips
with a naan to kill y’ nan

tea, if we scribble
in the riddle of the morning

milk, six sugars
plus a tin o’ ginger nuts
…

banana skin shit

~

banana skin shit ( tihs niks ananab )

…

smoked, like a pope

or a gangland kipper

with green tea leaves

in a mother of a bifta

under silver skin of rizla

with a great imagination

or a magic carrot wand

once the swan is like a magpie

in the ides of june – or somesuch

with odd socks on

don’t forget your anorak

nicknacks, bric-a-brac

syntax saddle shat

beeswax beats

with a goblin, in the forest

of forever’s feathered foghorn

forming shape interface

with a sylphid spirit level

as the gasman gasps

& the mighty milkman sleeps

but the pheasant fez is onions

up a tuesday afternoon

off the tits of wednesday teatime

– that’s a fuckin’ trip

…

the things we touch

~

the things we touch ( hcuot ew sgniht eht )

…

sticky conker buds
in the doldrums of spring

keys in back pockets
chiming in time

pimples with a pinch
& nettles with a wince

rain upon skin
if the grey snakes in

clouds, if we climb
up a baked bean stalk

sound with a quake
as the bones vibrate

hands with a shake
coz the ‘rona’s overrated

toes with a creak
& chins with a stroke

butter fingered smoke
clutching ghost straws

hearts of lost souls
barge poles – with barge poles

sheet, if we ink
phantom tangents in fog

& cloth
when we leg it to the bog
…

lesser known news

~

lesser known news ( sen nwonk ressel )

…

z-list wannabe

stung by a bumblebee

     ex-soap star

     reborn in panto

pigeon shats

on ploughman’s lunch

      dowser drowns

      in a sudden cloudburst

water is wet

claims renegade philosopher

      cat flap flies

      one in four traffic jams

as per eggheads

are traffic marmalade

      wheat intolerant

      scarecrow sues

farmer giles

& the n.f.u

     man tripped over

      his own shoelaces

slightly bruised

but otherwise fine

      – so there

…