lobtailling, wassailing cloisters, spume, elbow grease. transpose, holy ghost, hydrogen - helium, thought, police. song, swan, wheelbarrows, buoy, ploy - hoi poloi! cosmic stuff, jigsaw, see saw blink destroyed ...
Poem
people change
I used to feel obliged to write haiku so now I don't bother for the very same reason & I used to rest my faith on the Queen as head of state yet now I dream of regicide & valid acts of treason. People change x ...
what friends are for
Let them eat Kate let them eat Dave let them eat Sue she's on the menu too. Let them eat Brian let them eat Ryan let them eat Hugh ideally in a stew. Let them eat Eve let them eat Steve spit roasted on a rotisserie. Let them eat Martha let them eat Arthur let them eat Clara - yes everyone but me ...
faffin’ about
We're faffin' about but just the usual gubbins no trouble or owt. No blood has been drawn here no broken bones nowt. Nothing is destroyed yet nothing gets done we're faffin' about & it's harmless fun ...
turvy topsy
When I woke up this morning stuff was upside down the land was in the heavens & the clouds were on the ground everywhere's a new perspective with surprises abound so I think they should keep things ʇɥᴉs ʍɐʎ ɐɹonup ...
rest on mantelpiece
Yes several bridges & a stile former once fond memories of yesterwhile. Babylon of hanging gardens & Cuneiform, Pudding Lane, Ellisa, old school uniform. Minor acts of arson like the bandstand in the park, Nero's Rome, Barbara Hepworth & of course Joan of Arc. Evidence plus dead pets whom I remember with affection so please rest on mantelpiece - peace my urn collection x ...
livin’ the countryside life
We're lunching luncheon with a racist old lady foraged mosses, lichen, onion gravy we're taking pot shots at low flying light aircraft with silver pellets on the off-chance it's a werebat we're discussing metaphysics with bullocks we're befriending muddy fields & winding streams 'cause we're livin' the countryside life - yeah we're livin' the countryside dream ...
oh bother…
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? ...
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 ...
resarf poetry 