in last night's slept tight well i burned my old school, a church that was askin' for it burnin' stuff's cool then i set alight a scout hut which went off with a whooosh baden powell was fascist scum so 'take that hitler youth' then i torched a y'oldey haybarn f*ck it - on a whim then last but not least windsor castle i hope the queen was in & then i woke up grinning readied for day's shite strife recharged by sweet arson dreams the trick is not to do it in real life ( ! ) ...
Poetry
always breakfast
yes of course there's always breakfast the meal with time on its hands a pot of darjeeling - look, a spider on the ceiling endlessly appealing buttered toast with raspberry jam the other meals i find pretentious i've never ever rated the rest lunch is a funny bunch - supper's for apostles so god bless breakfast coz you're the f*ckin' best ...
painful is
well painful is an agony aunt unable to see where her bare feet should go regarding the brick wall due to the blindfold plus it was night time stubbing her toe - ouch ...
celebrity livestock
cadge for an autograph off a local cow on the off-chance that they will become renowned within their field & pastures which idly surround - what's it worth ( ? ) ...
in regards to the sun
often i stop & wonder in regards to the sun not the tabloid press lot no - not mister murdoch's scum but the actual sun yes that blurry cancer gun which some folk worship yet albino owls shun ( like ) what's its favourite cheese? does it like its tea quite strong? does it rise in the east or are the compasses all wrong? has it ever got its hat on or is that just a song? is it hollow or a hologram? these queries just keep on ...
grow your own poems
grow your own poems it's the future that's the dream gently plant then piss upon some magic poem beans they'll shoot up like a stalky-thing then up y' poems climb 'til you reach this cloudy giant place the land of pantomime ( the end ) ...
( that was fast )
i awoke in mid-april at 8 in the morning already it's springtime a year in a day come 9 it was may then come 3 o'clock august september tea time midnight - hogmanay ...
the cauliflower people ( ! )
eeh the cauliflower people well the florety folk yes they're definitely real no it's sadly not a joke 'cause fairly bland vegetable plus some science when it's evil plus the darkest of dark magic = cauliflower people don't talk to them ...
the great word search 2016
when lost for words when none are there a vacant mouth a tongue that's bare then scour the earth then go in search then climb a tree a silver birch then dredge canals then swim them seas all 6 & 1 where can they be? from pole t' t'other a fruitless ordeal but after all that well, how do you feel ( ? ) ...
with these words
with these words
we say hello
alright? how's shite?
mind how you go
yes happy whitsun
how's your head?
i love you cousin
please drop dead
c'est fantastique
geddoff my land ( ! )
a dash of milk
look - swollen glands
hip hip hooray
what time's the train?
a lovely evening
will it stain?
yes with these words
we say our piece
you've lost the plot
i've lost my sheep
nice mittens
ten pound - on the nose
are faeries real?
where are my clothes?
is tuesday soon?
is thursday far?
good morning curate
let's steal a car
thanks for the eggs
& so much more
with these words of mine
with these words of yours
( x )
...
resarf poetry 