Poetry

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

…

money thoughts

~

money thoughts ( a brief poetical discharge )

…



if i think of money

then i think of greed

divisions - divide & rule

struggles - suppressed mouths to feed


spineless wanker bankers

bullshit, death & woe

offer us a fiver though

chances are i won't say no

...

loving the geranium

~

loving the geranium by 9 lines of something or other inspired by a flower

…


good evening wembley stadium

ye aliens & albanians

some nuts are macadamia ( n )

some societies - fabian

the countryside's arcadian

my cranium glows - uranium

some old walls are named hadrian

( i'm )

loving the geranium

...

there’s a hole in my head

~

there’s a hole in my head by jean claude anorak

…



there's a hole in my head

not the nostrils of the nose

nor the entrances of ear-things

nope beyond the ilk of those

which i trepanned one peng eve

as a laugh perchance supposed

& it's leaking information

drips of bits i used to know


~


there's a hole in my head

which i probably should block

as stupidity is looming

closer now with every drop

but as the crowbar flies - aye

the less one gives a toss

plus no one likes a clever clogs

so ' come on hole

don't stop '

...