under tarpaulin

I woke up this mornin'
under a sheet of tarpaulin,
I forged a small air hole above m' head
& then I went back to bed.

Cuh!
Who needs ditches nowadays eh?
'Drainage'
'Drainage'
I hear you say.

'Drainage'
'Drainage'
& you're probably right,
for February 'tis known 
as the month of fill-dyke
- no chucklin' in the corners please
I know what you're like.

'Drainage'

...

a note on a post

Missing,

have you please seen my marbles?

& if so

is there any chance

that I can get ’em back

Plus my Eva Braun calendar,

a Barbary Ape that gargles,

a lark’s tongue engraved in solid shat

& the usual, standard bollocks

in regards to a child & cat

…

psss & shush…

in a former life

i was a carrot

but i'm not telling you which variety

& there are loads to choose from


it's good to have secrets

how to writing process…



Chuckle,

as the proverbial octopus

then squirt your imaginary ink,

without a single further face frown or blink,

try it please

it might help you think

...




& scribble

as a demented barn own

then your poetical pellets excrete,

sans question or query or fuckin' explete'!

Try it like & trust me mate

it's quality sheet

...

everybody’s ovine nowadays

One’s grazing

again

–

On scrawled words

to sustain

–

A strange balance

& semblance

–

& stave off

the sane

…

musings on teeth & bees


People with no teeth
& no false teeth
trying to speak
are always a right bastard to understand.



It's a bit like if we zapped bees
& made them human size
with human brains like we
because bees don't have teeth
not like us but
they could buzz intelligently
plus with 6 limbs
they could easily wave semaphore.



I would pay too much money to see that.



Shit loads & that
...

mid afternoon jigsaw

Shitta brick!

I know now

what this jigsaw’s gonna be,

you never should have shown us the box

You have now sadly deprived me

of wondery

& mystery,

plus the thrills & high octane,

& oh

the shocks

…

It’s Satan again

…

the secret diary of an amateur philanthropist (more stile over substance)





There's no need to even mention
divine intervention,
bother the Sybils
or call a steward's inquiry.





As without any quibbles
as one can tell from the scribbles,
this is clearly the diary
of an amateur philanthropist.




& part-time hamster-rights activist
& my-first-chemistry-set alchemist,
with all the wrong basics
but still trying to make gold.





Please don't tell a soul
...


x

Apocryphal Toss

The white cliff's of Dover


were originally painted


by God as an undercoat


for a more lively tone



...



Then he left just it
...

The Crow, My Bastard Nemesis

The crow

where in the name of sweet shat did you go?

Black

like the view

from a window seat

on the channel tunnel,

rather handily koz it rhymes

deepest woe,

& yet with nothing to show

for it

you fucking tit,

you winged bastard feathered shit

…

(because you’re just)

All corvid & dark

looking absolutely nothing like the Cutty Sark,

pecking

on an ice pop

whilst perched in the park

…

Stay still,

long enough for me to shoot you

…

resarf poetry

( ? )

Poem