penguin ( niugnep )

suited & booted

waddle chocolate biscuit bird

fish for your supper

definitions of a poems


definitions of a poems ( smeop a fo snoitinifed )

the journal squirms of dead old men

& spinsters with cobwebs for knickers

the gruel of school, designed to bore

the speak of sleep – & so we snored

with purple spurts & shapes of beige

an open toad upon a page

that no one reads, a dull-de-sac

a sack of shit, a bag of cack

or magic beans for cabbage folk

a cattle prod, an egg, a yoke

a floating ghost or cheese on toast

the tapered tones of nature’s notes

a sort of door, a funky key

the apes & scrapes of monkey me

a letter stuck with music’s glue

( parcelled to parts unknown )

the gaps between the cracks in clouds

a scribble in – & out the other

a shooting star of trar-luh-lar

the lucid dreams of prose in a coma

the twisted lists of brevity’s rants

the ants in pantomime’s pants

the life & times of baa, baa, baa

rhyming, if inclined

& shining like a shining thing

as the ‘rona drones


as the ‘rona drones ( senord anor’ eht sa )


over clover’s leas

plods a yokel cabbage


songs within his deep green

anorak pockets


under onion skies

pickled like the piffle


of the brainstream snooze

& the beige of the age


birdsong glistens still

in the pantaloons of winter


welkins bloom to blue

lilac alder catkins


kingfisher swishes

by the blanks of the gibber


colours sound around

shite night musing’s


cows beyond the town

cattle beyond cattle


sheep upon these hills

watch the village witter


as the ‘rona drones

so the muzzled skip


dancing with the ants

in this phantom pantomime

king of the conkers


king of the conkers ( sreknoc eht fo gnik )


king of the conkers

smothered in gorilla glue

asphalt & diamonds


chief of the nag’s chest

hanging with the wrecking balls

checkmate & curtains


autumn’s destroyer

on the roids & hench as fook

coz you’re fookin’ ‘ard


god of the schoolyard

ruler of this universe

you too shall shatter


time is like paris

arrows in his pipeline – so

swing & ‘ave a go


i’m a light bringer

i’m the ever-blazing sun

with nuts set to stun

things to give the widest of berths


things to give the widest of berths ( shtreb fo tsediw eht evig ot sgniht )

soap opera weddings
– weddings in general
cornichons & gherkins
letters from the council
torrential cloudbursts
the cult of celebrity
broken bones
anything by coldplay
the b.b.c
the song of the sirens
manna from the skies
the brainstream media
the mask-brigade on twatter
lovebombing bots
never ending surveys
the great reset
anthrax, the black death
allen ginsberg fan’s
– lock up your young sons
cracks on the pavement
unlucky heather
heroin & benylin
my doppelgänger
& matt hancock’s prick

soft rock ballad


soft rock ballad ( dallab kcor tfos )

in the bits beyond the leas
so the mincing minstrels moan
spins a tale of wailing hymns
& a land of sanded stone

of the shale within the fro
oh, the shifting skins of turf
& a rumble underneath
from the stomach of the earth

as the cabbage salad splats
as the lunar minded squawk
& a spider frees the flies
chimes a chaffinch, talkin’ chalk

in the innards of upon
as a loaf of hillocks roll
once a forest – since a ghost
& the afterlife is coal

under crumble-jumbled skies
in a broken wonky key
aye, the strumming poets ponce
& the song’s ge-ol-o-gy

in the bits beyond the leas
so the mincing minstrels moan
spins a tale of wailing hymns
& a land of sanded stone

thoughts on hedgehogs


thoughts on hedgehogs ( sgohegdeh no sthguoth )

they wage no scraps or wars

like mutant human-pigs

or weasel-woodland boars

with sworded tusks that kill

they eat no chips or swill

or hog the crusts ‘n’ grubs

they feed on sleepless slugs

on nibbles, bits ‘n’ bugs

they snore all yawning morn

& cattled afternoon

to shine a light & rise

just like the blooming moon

then wander on upon

the leas & garden lawns

or cross a misted road

if testing mister death

they cannot roar a bark

or howl at passing owls

or change the shifting shapes

of spinning space & time

they cannot fucking fly

within the air nor sky

their spikes are quills – ’tis true

but they do

live in hedges