a soft boiled egg ( some o’ that )
…
life's a soft boiled egg when there's monkeys in our mumbles love is bubblewrap as there's jungles in our jumbles hopes are toothpaste stain then yet apples in our crumbles sing of custard dreams so i s'ppose we mustn't grumble ...
~
going out ( this poem contains roughly 13% of your r.d.a of shite )
…
take your key in case clay pigeons sing take your phone in case the onions ring take some cash to barter with the sheep grab a nap in case there's time for sleep don a smile there may be acid rain & odd socks no, never two the same wear good boots no, not the naughty pair cross your toes then go, out there - take care ...
~
in absentia ( another vaguely poetical stab in the daft )
…
the feral vet, his intense sweats
that manic get
the haunted cow
the magic nurse, her tragic verse
& piggish purse
the singing sow
the dog in clogs - that trot - clip clop
& catty strops
the talking plough
those cheeky apes, our many scrapes
since former japes
where are they now
?
( fuck knows )
...
~
foxes don’t wear gloves ( an old poem of mine )
…
foxes don't wear gloves & i've never seen a bee don a bonnet - in or on it foxes don't wear gloves no, none of the above ...
~
roll on autumn … ( truth in its purest form )
…
wacky flipflops tacky gift shops summer's a wanker ...
~
welly wang ( a ? )
…
eels in cable cars jesus christ the poltergeist badger mutations ...
~
fall into summer ( a p o e m )
…
trip on a cowslip & fall into summer fumble a stumble, part-cartwheel then under follow proceedings like willow on leather float like a ghost or a deft thieving feather glide for a moment - pretend it's a lifetime as the bellflower clangs so the wild thyme chimes swift as that swallow or sting from a nettle cross every digit then settle on petals ...
~
festz ( a p o e t r y )
…
whitsun sits on window sills pentecost has hit them hills michaelmas is distant still ( burn it all 'til candlemas ) ...
~
actually ( a p o e t i c a l )
…
none of these hills are actually hills they're huge goosebumps the wind it chills this fearful land this restless still none of these hills are actually hills none of these lakes are actually lakes they're big puddles make no mistake these things soon build for fishes sake none of these lakes are actually lakes none of these trees are actually trees they're drama students can't you see? this wooden cast of wannabes none of these trees are actually trees ( & ) none of this verse is actually verse 'tis gobshite fare a gift-stroke-curse & yet it rhymes oh aye, terse nurse none of this verse is actually verse ( phew ) ...
~
let’s gather dust ( a p o e m )
…
let's gather dust but not nuts in may
let us make strawer whilst others make hay
fickle me mauve - i'll tickle you grey
say what you mean
i mean what i say
...
resarf poetry 