…
it could chuck buckets soon
the moon is in the garden
she never learnt her lines
your underpants are back to front
while the dawn is snoring
…
…
it could chuck buckets soon
the moon is in the garden
she never learnt her lines
your underpants are back to front
while the dawn is snoring
…
…
hashtag stags
& haberdasheries
big up the microbes
that grow up your nose
desmond in a tutu
from swan lake university
ray d. ographer
the pygmy shrew massive
nice one the moon
& mister kipling’s tart
@ the heart of england
looking for a beach
shout out to the deaf
they might just hear you whisper
the tartan paint is peeling
on your chocolate teapot
…
…
atilla, atilla
the dreaded honey monster
with his honey monster hordes
swept through these lands
from sweet wheaten steppes
in the distant east
bringing e-numbers & death
& hyperactive yoofs
so old king quaker fled
& took his oats with him
in the age of sugar puffs
until the forces of
the rice krispies triumvirate
of snap, crackle & pop
of the kellogs dynasty
fed in from the west
so on this very spot
a bloody great battle
was fought with spoons – not swords
in this very bowl
until the cow mooed
then the milkman drowned them all
back in breakfast times
…
…
enter the readers
eating pickled eggs
in cheap tweed
or turquoise shell suits
glue sniffing them
probably all cousins
maybe half a dozen
on a good day’s stretch
they of cheddar breath
& barrow boy barnets
keen taxidermists
& amateur phrenologists
joy rides in milk floats
bicycle spokes
worn like badges
on the fronts of their berets
…
( author notes )
i’ve been away for a few weeks
in the south of england
& the west country too
& it’s all kicked off in the meantime
you must know what i mean
the age old conflict
has reared its ugly head again
& people have been losing their ess
online & at the many protests
throughout the world
as the media insists we may be
on the brink of world war 3
– you know what i’m talking about
but whose side am i on?
everyone has to pick a team
so what is it to be?
heinz tomato ketchup
or h.p brown sauce?
& the answer is both
plus own-brand brown sauces
& daddies ketchup
plus salad cream
mustard, mayonnaise
gravy, chutney & jam
the more condiments – the better
i refuse
to lose my mind over this
so i ignore this divisive pantomime
& carry on
writing bollocks
( amen )
…
…
conkers, conkers, conkers
carpal tunnel vision
a mute town crier
half a jar of bovril
cobweb sandwiches
ging gang goolie ghouls
( undead scouts )
rain clouds wazzing down
life on iapetus
titus oates’s porridge
the madness of fog
& pumpkin flavoured coffees
( why, why, why… ? )
a unicorn’s shoe
a two pence piece
nefertiti’s neckline
a branch of fallen hawthorn
( as a makeshift broom )
your own unique barcode
doctor pepper’s stethoscope
mister kipling’s chinstrap
parsnips et cetera
…
…
pile cream
the financial times
vaseline
chocolate hobnobs
ten pence plastic bag
…
…
milk on the turn
maybe a gale
tartan tea towels
an out-of-tune kazoo
two mandarin ducks
postcards from mars
custard creams & hobnobs
a robot penfriend
hopefully sunshine
denser bones
& spring by november
…
…
crunchy peanut butter
three silver bullets left
toe nail clippings
a pheasant feather boa
two waxwings
a waxing gibbous
odd socks again
rain by five
twenty trombonists
eighty eight cobwebs
hashtag doggerland
…
…
blue between grey
lumbago again
apple juice bladder
six carrion crows
should have bought batteries
all but ten across
codeword sorted though
a handful of dates
two missed calls
no death threats
& a big bowl of cornflakes
…
…
september, september
soap sud flakes
eight fat ladies
fish paste sandwiches
september, september
bailing twine laces
time for reflection
your anus in a puddle
september, september
the ombudsman’s chin
a mastiff of mole hills
plus v.a.t
september, september
almost maroon
& yet tangerine
the bishop’s new pubes
september, september
solvent-free glue
deep green anorak
the second punic war
september, september
an anderson shelter
breakfast in a bath tub
& rose hip hedgerows
…