( please click on this poem to read it as it should be i type in preformatted on here which used to come down as one albeit to the left but now, whatever stream your on it just shows the first bit bunched in another typeface come on wordpress you fuckin' shitehawks why the chuffin' shat-munt change or is it me? ) ~ our world of rhyme where lines they chime from morn's dawn yawn to rhyme's bedtime yet then we sleep then dream of sheep joyriding jeeps watch out - beep beep day & night long it's one big song or chanson i blame trad & anon so tra la la la la la lee fiddley diddley diddley dee ( nice 1 ) ...
Art
the stuff of wednesdays
mona awoke from her coma ten years after wearing the wrong type of hat martin spoke to a martian as denise ate quiche & samuel smelled a rat hywel howled at wildfowl & amy spontaneously burst into flames yes every wednesday's different overlaps? plenty but never quite the same ...
fashion poem
i'm grubby not dirty i'm messy but clean there's mud on my trousers coz that's my scene it comes from them hills like then dries to a crust you can call it earthy or rustic if you must or dalefolk chic, yeh or ooh bumpkin cool with well worn trainers & a much loved cagoule why give a bat's shat? it does the job that glamour's for spanners & flash is for twats ...
mid-cucumber season
mid-cucumber season is mayhem although we're askin' for madness when cucumbers grow the limbo within in beyond rhyme or reason the green heart of khaos mid-cucumber season ( the end ) ... ( author gnomes; 'didn't have any cucumber picz so there's a lovely tree instead cheers-ta )
august is lawless
well august is lawless so do what thou wilt the law is on holiday absent is guilt as them two went camping somewhere in wales or exmoor or dartmoor or yorkshire dales so cycle on pavements helmet & carefree then scrump a white peach off a ripe white peach tree with no reprisals just big wicked grins yes august is lawless let's relish this sin ...
a true farmer figure
then when i was younger roughly by the age of 3 old macdonald was a true farmer figure to me he taught me all the farming things a child should ever know with an e-i e-i e-i o ...
think great things
when you're somewhat down in a state of deflate cheer yourself up by thinking of some things that were great like king alfred's burnt cakes or world war one the great train robbery ( that's better, it's gone ) ...
( technical difficulties )
"testing testing one two three buckle my shoe bitch slap my knee can you hear me at the back? now how about the front? spoonerisms rule you cotal tunt so two one one two whack up the bass the treble's on a level take that shat-face so testing working - fingers crossed & hope good evening wembley amen, i'm the pope" ...
sweet arson dreams
in last night's slept tight well i burned my old school, a church that was askin' for it burnin' stuff's cool then i set alight a scout hut which went off with a whooosh baden powell was fascist scum so 'take that hitler youth' then i torched a y'oldey haybarn f*ck it - on a whim then last but not least windsor castle i hope the queen was in & then i woke up grinning readied for day's shite strife recharged by sweet arson dreams the trick is not to do it in real life ( ! ) ...
always breakfast
yes of course there's always breakfast the meal with time on its hands a pot of darjeeling - look, a spider on the ceiling endlessly appealing buttered toast with raspberry jam the other meals i find pretentious i've never ever rated the rest lunch is a funny bunch - supper's for apostles so god bless breakfast coz you're the f*ckin' best ...
resarf poetry 