nonsense talk


nonsense talk ( some truths as poem )

i love it when they say oh-kay

ooh look - a bird - is that the time?

i really must be on my way

enjoy your simple, little mind

there's gubbins blowing in the wind

such bollocks on the syllabus

it's good to question everything

you're full of shit like sisyphus

it's good to fuck about - it is

consider march - its boxing hares

yes magic's real like boring pricks

i'm on the ground & in the air

reality's insanity

so all or nothing's nonsense here

my other selves also agree

we're vetting too

please disappear


wake-up poem


wake-up poem by some pisspot-poet or other

begin begin

the opening part

act one scene one

the dawn of start

the cock has crowed

then died on his arse

there is no script

it's shit not art

it's not a song

there aren't any words

the cock? piffle

there are no birds

just make it up

go on - have a splurge

mar blank a4

with bastard verse


& fridges


& fridges ( a short list for nutters to shout in public )







farm folk





watch it




a crocus

train wreck


heed speed

synthetic sweat




the internet








& fridges


orangey apologies


orangey apologies by f7863.rynz9 ( 30 second scan )

i find myself quite stuck

when penning poems

re the orange

the closest rhyme

that i can find

to orange

is porridge

& then of course there's forage

& borage

& cottage

which are all a bag o' wank

so i curse thee orange




this quiet life


this quiet life by trad anon (under a minute read or your time back for free !)

( it's too early )

for bat swarms

or bat flaps

or catnaps

or nosebleeds

or whisky

or fallouts

or mishaps

or cross stitch

or llamas

or scared crows

or farmers

with shotguns

they'll harm us

like clocks

they alarm us

or plum jam

or ghost tales

or nightjars

or toenails

or shits

in a bottle

or norway

or folk tales

or wetwipes

or dry ice

or tamed seas

or wild rice

yes right now will


this here

this quiet life

( ssshhhh )


there’s a diary in my mind


there’s a diary in my mind by little samuel bo pepys

there's a diary in my mind

it saves on space & writing time

ive kept one since the age of five

the annals of

this life of mine

each night before i go to bed

i think some more things - thoughts are shed

into my diary else instead

perhaps the journal

in my head



brevity keeps on calling


brevity keeps on calling by 20 second read

brevity keeps on calling

it whispers in the wind

i run home & bolt the doors

but somehow it creeps in

brevity keeps on calling

i quiver in my skin

like an ant in a wormhole

we're going for a spin

brevity keeps on calling

i lobbed my mobile phone

into the canal's dark depths

tied with twine to a stone

( yet )

brevity keeps on calling

it won't leave me alone

its language is atrocious

& on & on it drones


this house has …


this house has … by ¬†satsuma candlemas

this house has ghosts

this house has floors

front bow window

some hidden doors

this house has hobs

this house has soul

it aint that big

the odd black hole

this house has cheese

this house has dog

this house eats shat

'just flushed a log

this house has nutt

-er tra la le

this house has aids

these aids help me