everyday's only a blank page if you dismiss the invisible ink the scribblings of yesterdays disguised quite indistinct the meanderings of previously the potterings of yore yes everyday's only a blank page if you manage to ignore what's been written before ...
Poems
bouquet
this poem smells of the delian league a week last-sunday & cauliflower cheese this poem smells of neptune's moons all 14 of the beggars & confused afternoons this poem smells of your uncle's first car the shipping forecast a candle maker's memoir plus this poem smells of the kitchen sink so when every scent has blended - THIS POEM STINKS ...
a world within an onion & a place within a potato
a world within an onion but this this world is your onion yet man alive like this leek yeah fuckin' 'ell - it's unique it's a magical paddle if stuck up any shit creek. & a place within a potato this potato tastes of play dough plus the turin shroud's scrotum the arch deacon's arse crack & then i the young barn-hand-lad that takes us back x ...
how they make poets
take 1 awkward bastard child then fill their head with an intricate mess of ponderings of mainly men - long dead until they positively oggle at what was once pretentious twaddle. then give this bastard child a pen or better still a feathered quill add misery so they cure themselves witless thus pleasing an elite & boring everyone else shitless ... (author nodes... a touch tongue-in-cheek but too much truth too)
old note woman
dear mardy old great grandmother on the back of my £5 note no one is born superior your family are a joke you're fuck-all ceremoniously you've never been my queen a dinosaur - yes nothing less unable to smile from centuries of incest x ...
10.23
the novelty clock is adamant now that it's 10.23 & who are we to argue ? yes who are we to disagree ? as time & existence are mysteries beyond mere monday's wits & powers so nice 1 - it's 10.23 for 60 seconds then again erm in roughly 12 hours ... (author nodes ... written this gninrom)
great literary secrets
yes shakespeare was a thousand chimpanzees on typewriters bashing letters fraudulently until another play emerged not that there's a rush 'cause they had bags of time 'n' ink plus decent monkey-drugs ...
beyond jam
a weary jam maker lay nackered in bed & thought of all the jam that day they'd made then they thought of all the jam they hoped to make in the future closed their eyes & dreamed of lemon curd red currant jelly - MARMALADE ...
cripes! (part 322.5)
you're lost in lost in foggy frost about to go into STANDBY mode so think of the price of bamboo shoots your top 5 made-up bus routes pantaloons cantaloupes or the war of jenkins' ear press BACK UP or these thoughts will disappear ...
in search of that time honoured nature po-et-ry
i left by the back door at around 9.03 in search of that time honoured nature po-et-ry. the meh pedestrian usual shite i'm sure you've read 'n' heard that no one nowadays really writes just jiggles the words. but by by 9.07 (ish) the weather had turned shit the animals they scattered fast the nymphs they were amiss. so amidst this bastard shat i decided to head back then went home & penned the usual gubbins in hindsight - thank fuck for that x ...
resarf poetry 