I've never worn clogs on a Wednesday or winked at an owl of an eve nor lobbed a potato at a bust of Plato yet many gullible people still they believe. That I often sing sea shanties whilst in Switzerland plus chuckle at their alpine mackerel skies these are a pack o' lies the usual shite - it's no surprise but whose behind these nasty vicious rumours & why? ...
Poem
gettin’ there…
When the grey is there to stay above the saturated earth with threatenings of rain onto its soggy sodden turf when most sensible life has scarpered when breezes pick up into cold winds instead pray for the heavens to open then the Gods can bless this dim, this grim ...
a poor sod
I read about a Sagittarius originally from Sidcup who had the hiccups non-stop for 50 years it surprised 1 day in late May in early adulthood & then persistently refused to disappear ironically they died from athlete's foot after all that but some end is yet in sight as if you stand beside their tomb beneath the haunted silver moon ghost hiccups still emerge into the restless depths of night ...
on the branches there’s blossom
On the branches there's blossom hints of pink white bits like phosphum some clouds or cotton floaty wreckless flotsam undead as the possum high like Nelson's Column & ne'er to be forgotten it's a corpus callosum as it bridges that gap between Winter & Spring on the branches there's blossom it's a curious thing ...
weekend witches
Weekend witches & Beltane pagans once yearly-nearly ramblers & blue moon dabblers. Wedding drinkers & funeral weepers occasional tables the occasionally unstable. Hy-Brasil & déjà vu a solar eclipse or the Phoenix, of course too. Brief glimpses of HELL & scarlet pimpernels plus fuck-it-that'll-do rhymers - bloody part-timers ...
muddy corduroy trousers
Muddy corduroy trousers on a trip into town keeping me safe from urban clatter & hate protected by the Earth put your faith in its brown you are my amulet my evil eye - bus home - survived ...
the 1st of feb
Head contrary on the 1st of February as impending Candlemas hangs thick in the air just like congealed school custard sans the upper skin layer white rabbits - white rabbits or a pair of mountain hares? Beyond the edgelands of January into the rugged vast of where? Fuck knows - early days again no wings but whims & a prayer x ...
sunday sermon
Many great tales shall remain untold there's cold in warmth there's warmth in cold there's sanity in madness & happiness in sadness plus misfortune in luck 'cause God's a fickle fuck. Amen ...
the nether regions
Travellers often stop, prod & ask us when I'm pretending to be asleep on tardy cobbled streets 'excuse me, do you know the way to Holland please?' & I reply 'why, certainly' then I gesture duly East. I hope they're good swimmers ...
multiple discharges
The incident with the euphonium that triggered sheer pandemonium, the day it almost snowed in August heralding a darker dawn chorus or the time when you disguised your reflection yet it still looked exactly like you - aye ink all these things & write it right through ...
resarf poetry 