enter a competition & you might win a prize chances are you won't but there's no way if you don't try it might be a chicken that quacks like a duck 'cause someone has to win these things fingers crossed good luck ...
Poems
a pecking order
a pecking order the system of chicken the sequence of beak ( me first ) ...
( mary )
recently i've not been myself yes far too often i've been someone else all morning i've been mary queen of scots implicated by that bastard babbington plot & if i carry on this gender-bend way no doubt they'll behead me down at fotheringhay yes recently i've not been myself since the others spiked my apple juice - blame everyone else ...
5 a day
pear soap cauliflower ears banana skin skid-marks a pea in a bottle & cherry blossom ...
the man with no nostrils
the man with no nostrils still had a nose 'til one day a big sneeze where does it go? the man with with no nostrils still had a nose 'til one day a big sneeze his head explodes ...
10, 000 grahams
there are always 10,000 grahams on earth since before the dawn of man it's all part of some plan with their magic name they maintain equilibrium is sustained if there were 10,000 & 1 then every goose would turn into a swan ( ... & that's just for starters ... ) ...
put y’ foot down
a brownfield site among the shite on a wank december's night a sewage farm the bowels of hell a plague pit piled vile sights - foul smells a crash-smash drenched in weeping rain among the bits of plane meets train or a y'oldey war - those cannon balls nah, that's no place for a picnic at all ...
f*cki*g *oems, *astar* th*ngs …
they hide behind bushes then flash us unawares then leg it off in the nud somewhere over there they sneak into our gardens in the perverse depths of night then in the middle of the lawn they shit a massive shite they babble next to us on buses when loadsa double seats are free clothed but recognizable please stop bothering me & so i shout through the morrow mist as birds begin to sing 'SHAKESPEARE WAS A FRAUDULENT WANKER - FUCKING POEMS, BASTARD THINGS' ...
nineteen 25
quietly convinced by mysteries & fickleness that twenty 4 hour clocks display the year & not the time i glanced across 1 evening within breathing space of michaelmas & to my surprise you cheeky swine she's done it again - IT'S NINETEEN 25 ...
there’s a vole in my pocket
there's a vole in my pocket the vole got in through the hole having scurried up my left trousered leg beneath green corduroy - rock 'n' roll yes there's a vole in my pocket it's jiggly it's fidgeting about so now i've resorted to cartwheels in the hope the little shit falls out ...
resarf poetry 