you're an inverse urban mithras in a retail park car park at night bringing the darkness back into light ~ ( resurrecting a bull ) ...
Stuff
note to shelf
note to shelf aye i put you up myself with the skill of a donkey & that's why you're wonky note to shelf please don't be insulted as angles breathe life but you should have been consulted ( i'm sorry ) ...
( space is growing )
shat that space is well beyond our understanding each time i peep up from the blinds it's still expanding into what? shite knows we haven't a clue but on a good night the mind expands too (x) ...
warning signs – alarm bells
warning signs - alarm bells the songs of enya death knells entrails - chem trails ingrown toe nails vintage steam fairs - hiccups then lightning struck the bishop oh warning signs - alarm bells foretell with reason mean well ...
a pecking order
a pecking order the system of chicken the sequence of beak ( me first ) ...
my tiger tin
dear my dear tiger tin in which i keep stuff 'n' things you were £1 in poundland you were bought on a whim since then through thick & thin from front rooms to festivals i cant be without you essential as testicles yes without you one's lost like grime without wiley or countdown sans perving at rachel riley oh my dear tiger tin in which i keep shit 'n' things i fucking love you oddly my heart sings x ...
if i had a penny …
if i had a penny for every time i lost a penny i'd be loaded with bastard shrapnel pennies many many & if i had a penny for every time i 'spent a penny' i'd sit on my arse & just drink tea my bladder would gradually finance me ...
nostalgia
i remember nostalgia that fuzzy warm glow from years ago (it's still there somewhere) ...
pun of the mill
how did the beaker people cope without coasters? is anyone more generous than mr a donor? these answers should be served on the finest silver platter 'cause jesus was an octopus & silly thoughts matter ...
fishing for compliments
i was dangling by the riverbank fishing for compliments whilst trying to spot an otter or perchance a hippopotamus the waters flowed all day long like a constant stream of consciousness but all i caught was mustard & chutney - bloody condiments ...
resarf poetry 