…
five pints of thin air
two snark eggs
sugar-free sugar
salt-free salt
invisible flour
fat-free lard
four straws for clutching
half an ounce of nada
nut-free marzipan
ten spoons of mist
gluten-free gluten
three hen’s teeth
& a great imagination
…
Poems
p.s spills the beans …
…
the butler never did it
they railroaded him too
those sneaky widwits
the typewriter botherers
as whodunnit authors
are yet more rotten apples
& just as bent as coppers
or those limbo dancing hunchbacks
who loiter in the gents
toilet in the park
every friday luchtime
…
index left
…
unscattered ashes
catch the last drift home
bones unbroken
all’s unaching
nor a restless tingle
when breakfast calls
take another gulp
swallow like a summer
while the tealights dance
dunce in the mist
nouns becoming verbs
shine like the plough
pow & kerblam
power nap slang man
index left
cleft fist this
voles, vowels & barn owls
scanning your barcode
say cheese & sneeze
odin sesame
dawn chorus horus
…
yet nearly there yet
…
poetic on paper
papyrus or ostrata
~
half a yard onward
spring is only dozing
~
strike three times
with a branch or large twig
~
whistle greensleeves
then lick both ends
~
listen by the wayside
may contains nuts
~
after the gathering
blathering songbooks
~
batteries included
glue guns fully loaded
~
enter the author
exit the aether
…
3525
…
yesterday’s grey duvet
warmer than before
meanwhile the bean stalks
starlings each dusk
bugels & badger musk
pencil in if needed
but we’d rather be
floating like a ghost
answers on a lamppost
…
mid-jan man
…
baroque in a frock
the devil’s chord calls
clammy jazz hands
on the brow & forehead
rafting on the rafters
mizzle in your underpants
milk ‘tache mishaps
gaps between each gasping
catching the drift
of a woodland in slumber
perhaps the bishop lied
& monday is our oyster
a postcard in the post
from the younger dryas
the morning was a hag
& darkness was her nostrils
the clouds still growl
if we try to feed them fudge
u-boats & u-bends
whitsun is distant
the tide is a highness
‘pon a giant’s throne
as us cabbages
pen in awkward rectitude
rectories rattled
’til the battle was a draw
we became the ivy
on a battered garden fence
gland ahoy & balls
the kettle still sings
…
if you were a bus
if you were a bus
i’d sit on your back seat
& rest my weary arse cheeks
but i’d rather you sat on me
i’d gaze out of your window
in between crossword clues
& see the town vanish
the grey becoming green
it’s leafier each blink
as blue rinsed biddies natter
on what to have for tea
& who should win strictly
i’d ride within your frame
& test your braking speed
the tyres & suspension
like a proper fuckin’ wrong’un
who should be on a register
& tagged for good measure
we would sweat in august
but warm a dark december
on the long road home
in the evening’s golden gloam
& then i’d ring your bell
when our stop approaches
…
he of brighter bicycles
~
he of brighter bicycles ( selcycib rethgirb fo eh )
…
i’m a breathing pantomime
sings the scribbled ink
with some super glue
stick a pube or two
he of brighter bicycles
an easter egregore
all is throbbing thickets
& toads upon toadstools
rabbits not rubble
the catch is in the double
trembles of treble
as hares box the air
hespero & i
wandered of a morning
on the road of romans
quarrymen & drovers
time is like a light
in the dim of thought
nought is but an egg
scrambling the smeg
weaver of before
in the mirror – rayed
‘fore the dawn’s middle eight
& chorus to fade
…
my current currant top 5
~
my current currant top 5 by franz joseph list
~
5 red 4 black 3 buns 2 river & 1 electricity ...
idiots
~~~
idiots by anne idiot ( et al )
~
yes everyone's an idiot humanity is idiocy united by stupidity to resist is futility yes everyone's an idiot but if you somehow disagree then you're more berk-inclined than me please open your idiot eyes & see ...
