oh, those fucking poetz


oh, those fucking poetz ( zteop gnikcuf esoht ,ho )

posturing ponces with song in their bonces

mutants of music if rhythm esconces

humming ‘n’ strumming a pen’s instrumentals

lepers with pencils, the notes of the mentalz

scrotes of a morning, the welkin is yawning

clatter is calling if bollocks is dawning

nattering nutters, a sputter of clutter

trolling the normalz, the scrawls of the other

blithering babbles, a swan for the annals

supping not nectar – but dross from the barrels

witches ‘n’ wizards which sunbathe in blizzards

wailing ‘n’ howling the out of the innards

stoats in a forest of badgers ‘n’ weasels

dancing on sabbaths, the ill in illegals

tossers ‘n’ dossers, the scum of the earthen

burn all the poets, the beasts of this burden

– fuckers