This poem sniffs moss
& drinks from troughs,
& picks up feathers
& pisses by hedges
.
This poem chats to stoats
& thinks that gravel floats,
& loves well dressings & bell ringing
but never saw the point in fell running
.
This collects stamps
& yet stamps on ants
& steals cheese from pantries
& likes to up the ante
.
Because this poem is a mish mash
probably as a result of witchcraft,
or to be more precise- a pad & pen
but everyone uses them
.
We’ll burn it on the off-chance
…
All too oft’
like a bat-saturated loft,
poetry
can contain
the following………
…
Nuts, dust
& latex gloves.
–
Flash photography
with loads of strobes.
–
Italics, nasty prangs
& sudden-BANGS!
–
Bad language indeed
when there’s no shit fuckin’ need.
–
Half a shandy & an Aspirin,
I know a mate
who knows a goat
who has a cousin if you’re askin’…
–
Plus some other stuff that’s vague
& the bubonic plague.
1.
Well I’m afraid a blank page
is always the first stage,
so grab a pencil or pen
& get jotting again…
2.
Part two,
a time to pause & review,
to re-examine the splurge
& to make sense of shed words
-yeh, fuck it, that’ll do…
3.
& lastly it’s part 3,
eccles cake & mug o’ tea
then sod it
& leave it edit free,
plus ignore all household chores
& instead nip out for early doors,
because it’s well easy
this poetry malarkey…
Reet,
cheers…
There’s a carpet burn
on my large intestine
& a textbook dead leg
in my still numb textbook head.
My mouth is in
my soapy heart
& my cheek in’s turned
the other tongue,
yesterday I tossed dust
at wasps & the illusory
until inevitably
I was stung.
But I didn’t cry or scream,
apply more cream…
This little piggy went to market, this little piggy stayed at home, this little piggy looked a little looked a little bit like Stephen Gately so he replaced him as the 5th member of Boyzone (on their reunion tour run for the moors...) This little piggy swam with dolphins & narwhals (both species) & rode on the back of a giraffe, this little piggy went back in time with a joke & cheered up Sylvia Plath (briefly) & this little Piggy moved to Bradford & got a job working in his local Costco, he was doing alright for himself until he bumped into his local serial killer & then he got done in by a crossbow... (The End)
resarf poetry 