the gift that keeps on shitting


the gift that keeps on shitting ( gnittihs no speek taht tfig eht )

rain pisses down

like another love sonnet

bees are sleeping zees

beats within me bonnet

drum but with a plum

not aplomb – but a fruit

legs are standing stones

gravel in me boots

pens keep running ou

muses on sabbaticals

time slides sideways

facing the greys

phantom ballads fade

salad in a maze-daze

home is pickled onions

hope is pebble dashed

air stagnates like

stare-offs with walls

one magpie

in the corner of your eye

lockdowns forever

cry compromised clowns

& all the leper-dodgers

in the mask brigade concur

( huhray )

thoughts of my true love


thoughts of my true love (  a  p o e m  )

in the afternoon's lull

well i ( sigh ) thought of thee

when a wasp stung me arse

beside a hawthorn tree

next a pigeon shat on

on me sitting duck head

but i cursed not said bird

dreams of you dear instead

then the cockroaches came

nasty ones - called me names

oh but that's why they're cocks

so i played not their game

as a big bastard rat

scurried in its rat hole

oh my true love you work

you work in pest control