last week, when i was a hittite i took an extra spoon of sugar in my tea so far from the usual two instead i had three ( times change ) ...
Poetry
some sad things
chopped onions & teargas smart cars in anoraks tram-spotting poetry poetry generally very little winter light leathered idiots pints then fights grown men who write silly lists oh & you for reading this piss ( x ) ...
scratch back
you scratch my back & i'll scratch your toes you scratch my chin & i'll scratch your elbows you scratch my ears & i'll scratch your knees scratch scratch scratch back - we have fleas ...
the art of almost ( sort of )
the breeze picked up & sucked the final piece of the jigsaw from the grip of my finger things then out the open window 'that's cromwell's last wart' i huffed so i chased said piece of jigsaw down the lane then o'er them dales for centuries to no avail ( the end ) ... ( author nodes ) yes, breezes can suck too in fact every time a breeze blows somewhere it sucks somewhere else that's equilibrium & day 1 in wind school cheers ...
foxes don’t wear gloves
foxes don't wear gloves & i've never seen a bee don a bonnet in or on it foxes don't wear gloves no ( none of the above ) ...
bring back medieval keys ( ! )
in medieval times well the keys were so much bigger plus the locks were far larger than today yet the people were smaller yes we've grown taller & the keys & locks have gone the other way this poem you may say is devoid of a point like a fly once plucked of its wings but at this going rate keys will soon be subatomic then we'll never ever find the fucking things ...
the great wet outdoors
there's spitting & there's rain in the middle there's drizzle sometimes all 3 come at once the skies delight in riddles there's hail, sleet & snow plus every week or so frogs the trick is to be amphibious too all gifts from the gods so crack on through the lot ...
onions & toenails
learn your own self-myths know your pungent onions embellish every blemish or your ship's surely sunken grow your own toenails respect the power of bunion learn your own self-myths know your pungent onions ...
visions of things
i was amble-plodding down a y'oldey wonky lane to my left a field of donkeys in the head an empty brain to my right a field of peas when the visions burst forth yes pods a plenty as a jenny eeyored i saw next ash wednesday it rained around 3ish a ginormous artichoke an otter feeling peevish a baboon in a wedding dress - 2 pixies playing badminton & then shite faded out to nowt - should i inform the vatican ( ? ) ...
on a piss-wet afternoon in june
on a piss-wet afternoon in june i dusted the dusty bits humming some tunes the radetzky march then the theme from pingu on a piss-wet afternoon in june ...
resarf poetry 