yes god's still dead & the newspaper read ombudsman found living in squalor but that geography has been a mystery to me with actual mist so beyond bare bones i never really bothered yet where is squalor non-scholar - shit bother i can't tell you shite where to begin it's in the local rag so we must be talking miles is it near denial or 'round the back of sin ? ...
Art
a modest collection of little secrets
this little secret was discovered in a shoebox wedged in a hedge in the nowhere of the middle this little secret it never really had a name yet knew too much & ran away i found it in an alleyway this little secret well this one takes the biscuit it was passed down from a great-aunt who i still don't know existed & this little secret was once a set of ten before the other nine revealed themselves it's not a secret then ...
pre-human
we used to stay out all night & hunt our own prey we used to chat to the bats that also shunned day we used to turn our feathered heads two 70 degrees yes when we were owls we could do as we pleased ...
there’s a vole in my pocket
there's a vole in my pocket the vole got in through the hole having scurried up my left trousered leg beneath green corduroy - rock 'n' roll yes there's a vole in my pocket it's jiggly it's fidgeting about so now i've resorted to cartwheels in the hope the little shit falls out ...
stuff to do
there are still many energies that remain untapped such as every dog tail wagging a mass-wag or the collective spin of every hamster in its wheel so leave mater earth alone & let's make these energies REAL ...
did you know… ?
on this day in 1743 a pheasant laid an egg beneath a walnut tree ...
april fools day
april fools day tells day 'i'm may' - 'already, so soon?' day twigs come noon ...
thoughts on thoughts
thoughts come most go some throb some glow some prod some bite some come in pieces some fight some fright some charm some bear gifts with intent to harm some abstract-mime some dance but often it's ants in their pants some sing some wail some want my mind it's not for sale some suck with a straw some dazejà vu they've been in before some spark some extinguish some talk all foreign some dabble in english some sneak in through the tunnels some knock & say 'hello' thoughts come most go ...
let’s shun cardigans
let's shun cardigans but still pen poetry then it's like diving without the bit where you breathe into the depths of madness insanity's black vastness or if that's too much too soon then why not roll-up your sleeves ? ...
elcric lluf
on a clear day i can see cheeky faceless he beyond the horizon but never the front instead as from the tips of hilltops yes frequently i will spot conditions permitting it's the back of my head ...
resarf poetry 