the rain is always pissing on somewhere 'tis true & it's always christmas somewhere too sometimes it can be christmas in next door's garden as the driest-ever easter surrounds & confounds you ...
Poems
scratch back
you scratch my back & i'll scratch your toes you scratch my chin & i'll scratch your elbows you scratch my ears & i'll scratch your knees scratch scratch scratch back - we have fleas ...
the art of almost ( sort of )
the breeze picked up & sucked the final piece of the jigsaw from the grip of my finger things then out the open window 'that's cromwell's last wart' i huffed so i chased said piece of jigsaw down the lane then o'er them dales for centuries to no avail ( the end ) ... ( author nodes ) yes, breezes can suck too in fact every time a breeze blows somewhere it sucks somewhere else that's equilibrium & day 1 in wind school cheers ...
bring back medieval keys ( ! )
in medieval times well the keys were so much bigger plus the locks were far larger than today yet the people were smaller yes we've grown taller & the keys & locks have gone the other way this poem you may say is devoid of a point like a fly once plucked of its wings but at this going rate keys will soon be subatomic then we'll never ever find the fucking things ...
the great wet outdoors
there's spitting & there's rain in the middle there's drizzle sometimes all 3 come at once the skies delight in riddles there's hail, sleet & snow plus every week or so frogs the trick is to be amphibious too all gifts from the gods so crack on through the lot ...
visions of things
i was amble-plodding down a y'oldey wonky lane to my left a field of donkeys in the head an empty brain to my right a field of peas when the visions burst forth yes pods a plenty as a jenny eeyored i saw next ash wednesday it rained around 3ish a ginormous artichoke an otter feeling peevish a baboon in a wedding dress - 2 pixies playing badminton & then shite faded out to nowt - should i inform the vatican ( ? ) ...
( had a farm )
old macdonald had a farm e - i - e - i - o until one day when it completely vanished what happened to it? no one knows some say it was nicked by gypos or aliens or alien gypsies yes old macdonald had a farm but where it is now? that's a flipping mystery ...
a chimp in your armour
there's a chimp in your armour in your armour there's an ape not a chink in your armour but an chimp clad in plate & chimp's causing y'oldey khaos as chimp slowly larks along there's a chimp in your armour what the fuck is going on ( ? ) ...
please don’t call an ambulance
please don't call an ambulance if you fall dead down the stairs or decapitate yourself whilst chopping carrots clean off - nothing there please don't call an ambulance if you fatally drown in the shower most accidents do happen at home but certain things are beyond their powers ... ( pauper scroats; follow-up to 'call the police' how exiting ... )
a little poem about that there nothing
some clever tosser clogs well they insist that that there nothing don't exist a bit like the tea towel drawer monster which apparently is dust & trapped air but a quick thought i think they should spare for those folk who play musical chairs with never any music or vaguely tonal humming & never any fucking chairs there wankers ...
resarf poetry 