Shit

under tarpaulin

I woke up this mornin'
under a sheet of tarpaulin,
I forged a small air hole above m' head
& then I went back to bed.

Cuh!
Who needs ditches nowadays eh?
'Drainage'
'Drainage'
I hear you say.

'Drainage'
'Drainage'
& you're probably right,
for February 'tis known 
as the month of fill-dyke
- no chucklin' in the corners please
I know what you're like.

'Drainage'

...

musings on teeth & bees


People with no teeth
& no false teeth
trying to speak
are always a right bastard to understand.



It's a bit like if we zapped bees
& made them human size
with human brains like we
because bees don't have teeth
not like us but
they could buzz intelligently
plus with 6 limbs
they could easily wave semaphore.



I would pay too much money to see that.



Shit loads & that
...

what happened to the other poems…

Well the first poem fell

down a mine shaft / well,

& withered within a fortnight

as all passers dismissed its yells

…

The next poem was gored

by a mob of wild boars,

in historic woody woodland

& then my homework ate the corpse

…

Another poem died from sheer sin

Sudafed & Benylin,

plus Junior Calpol – despite being an adult

the coroner didn’t know where to begin

…

& the last poem got lost in some mist

honest – I’m not takin’ the piss,

it may well have been abducted – by aliens or Alans

so you’ll have to make do with this

…