a little bird told me every evening roost eat plenty of berries & wear a pair of jackboots a little bird told me grow a cheeky little tache in springtime find a mate take the sudetenland back a little bird told me wash your feathers in a puddle watch yourself around them cats write a book about your struggle & a little bird told me every morning sing oh & comb a side-parting as per said bird's right wing ...
when pandas shagged like rabbits when lions just ate fruit when leopard spots still changed alot when penguins wore actual suits before all the squirrels & monkeys went nuts when the slugs sped about in a rush well none of this bollocks would be tolerated then & so huff all of us huff ( x ) ...
the world of hats it's massive vast from top to hard toque blanche flat cap sombrero stetson tam o'shanter life is a question hats are the answer the world of hats is ruddy huge from mitre to high there's many to choose so maybe pirate or fez instead the options are endless but only one head ( ? ) ...
as the hedgehog has its quills & the serpent its forked tongue i am hum man being cognito ergo hum with no miming or instruments no beating of drums i am hum man being there's no place like hum as the garden has its sweet peas the greengrocer has its plums i am hum man being the best is yet to hum so come piss shit winter gale aye come wanker summer sun i am hum man being i am a man that hums ...
you should get into politics that's what folk say which never means you should do it just means go away even i know that one no need to huff or scoff you should get into politics i.e fuck off ...
well this shit kicked in on the night after epiphany quite possibly a delayed reaction great uncle wet wipes dozed as the moon mooned surreptitiously yet magnet-esquely hence the attraction it was musical in places staggered bits of polyphony confusing them snow fields with song plus all the goats went flemish throughout this wonky mystery but come the first of april well whatever it was had gone ( the end ) ...
well south of here is far too hot your shoes will melt your clogs will burn sand demons - plenty disease - lots a squinting hell you'll soon return but north of here is far too cold there's yetis frostbite - soon takes hold so just stay here the perfect spot aye so say i & goldilocks ...
dearest latest diary just an inquiry have you been reading you ( ? ) as if so well - you've no right to in particular the footnotes i'll burn you like the others if it's true ( x ) ...
in this jumbled wonderland where some sky is on the ground as grazing all around are these four-legged clouds which folk call sheep not the catchiest of names but they call themselves baa i suppose it's all the same ( ? ) ...
have you ever been harangued in regards to meringues ( ? ) & when the diatribe's finally over you despise pavlova ( ? ) ( just wondering ) ( ? ) ...
resarf poetry 