A wonky smudge come sun or sodden trudge, we're off-plumb on purpose judge not lest ye be fudge. & a head stuffed with dust in the land of things & fluff, slow worms are in fact limbless lizards in odd we trust & it's never enough. (so) Uninsert the time & date & stay unperturbed of rhymes & wraiths, as all of these tea cups are storm proof as standard but our rust contains traces of gate...
Poem
‘can’t get the stuff nowadays…
Dirty, laundered Monopoly bank notes
& erotic windmill anecdotes?
–
I’ll check sir
but I don’t think we have any of those
…
A tetanus cure & or lockjaw
now available as a cream or in handy spray form?
–
Soz, well sold the last on a Candlemas of yore
& sadly don’t stock that anymore
…
Well in that case just the spear of destiny
& the cauldron of rebirth?
–
I’m afraid a lady bought them both yesterday
& the moral is get in there first
…
NEXT!
feral & free
Words have a right to roam
feral & free,
& mass trespass
throughout Kinder Scout
& further
…
Such as Mam Tor
or the mental world of thought,
whilst pretending to be an accountant
or if they like – a taikonaut
…
(because)
It’s all up to them & mean man no harm
beyond sticks & bricks they cannot hurt us,
however: Some words trample crops
& intentionally spook livestock
& leave gates open on purpose
…
Bloody poets
…
what happened to the other poems…
Well the first poem fell
down a mine shaft / well,
& withered within a fortnight
as all passers dismissed its yells
…
The next poem was gored
by a mob of wild boars,
in historic woody woodland
& then my homework ate the corpse
…
Another poem died from sheer sin
Sudafed & Benylin,
plus Junior Calpol – despite being an adult
the coroner didn’t know where to begin
…
& the last poem got lost in some mist
honest – I’m not takin’ the piss,
it may well have been abducted – by aliens or Alans
so you’ll have to make do with this
…
Dearest Summer,
Where d’you swan off to in January?
Oh where did you go?
You seemingly abandoned me
& missed all the snow
.
Because you disappeared
to southern hemisphere,
& you didn’t even send us
a Christmas card last year
.
I did but I still fuckin’ love you
you fickle old part-timer,
eeeh – you cheeky sick note skiver
is there any chance you can lend us a fiver?
…
I’ll pay you back in a season or 3,
honestly
…
a piece of piss
haiku are easy some folk think that they're hard but dodecahedron ...
£1 sandwiches
£1 sandwiches are never very tasty but that's not the point ...
entropy recipe
Lob aside your stabilisers
& untie your shoes
,
plus lock up your armbands
& form disorderly queues
.
Just miss the first post
& return late library books
,
smash several mirrors & why not? An eggcup
& then give photos of hard men – really funny looks
…
& now add the rest of the ingredients
…
& what’s the bad news?
Well I’m afraid to say that your face has gone oblong
it’s a strange & misshapen swan song,
plus an established medical fact
that once it’s started – well that’s that,
so enjoy life while you can – you’ve not got long
…
Poem 338
Well a surfeit of lampshades
is a touch too much in the way
of a visual aid
hence this temporary blindness
.
& intermittent stumbling
& mumbling about stuff & bits
,
& bumbling & then pretending
that it’s dark because we’re back in the blitz
…
But with added banana skins
…
resarf poetry 