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| a pretty nice hat |
anthem for one
through a mercenary time of year
predatory winds from far & near
murmur reasons in-between my ears
walking alone
dying leaves are sprouting everywhere
demons stalking trees in mock despair
streamlined by my fallen hair & worse
walking alone
no one will support this civil war
slingman archer priest or treasurer
shall donate their blood on such a clause
walking alone
equally absurd a frequent flyer
running scared or bored the rules require
company there are no solo choirs
walking alone
hot & cold the air is full of tar
feathers vodka myrrh & cinnabar
treason mirrored in a row of jars
walking alone
love rules
what you got is two
poles a coupla holes or one
each it’s war stroke peace
matching members or
opposites it matters not
combination counts
oh & then there’s time
people change their preferences
better rule that in
splitting up is fine
even having sex outside
marriage hence divorce
triolism group
whatchacallit intercourse
everything in fact
the sea at night
brave the sea their bright
pools of milky blackness white
shadows starry lights
dive below the tide
riding swells of darkness hide
out in coldness glide
letting go of sad
sediments ain’t been a bad
life no worries lad
taste the salt dissolved
blood of cuttlefish it’s good
take a breather flood
notwithstanding shoot
through your monsters steal their loot
deep in liquid root
HMS Indigestible
getting swallowed by an angry whale
sucks it’s not the sort of death you’d tick
drowning for example or a quick
coronary
no to be the scapegoat Moby Dick
claims in blind revenge at all the crimes
perpetrated on their species you’d
suffer my word
gulps of fishy breath the ambergris
worthless shucks & hordes of krill
would draw
dying out beyond a flashing life
meanwhile the old
Jonah story flicking through your mind
fifteen times before you understand
prophesised regurgitation ain’t
gonna occur
but to live on human flesh get stuffed
whales should stick to baby seals &
quit
hankering after retribution we’re
rotten as food
idiocracy rules
anorexic dudes
making Eric eat again
sons of Erica
Anoraks on stilts
shooting union Parkas out
waving rebel flags
independence see
William Penn his silvern groves
pulled from under him
but it’s oke them Brits
ain’t a-coming back & you’re
better off alone
let the poor man in
cobbled streets could use a rest
warm his two left feet
document #46
Putin or
Rasputin I don’t
give a shit
in the right
now that folks have read their bibles hung
cattle rustlers gone to bed at dusk
fed on cottage cheese & drunk their own
ale shall we talk
Martian forces having occupied
all the fertile pastures north of Ur
let the Russians take their seats once more
backs to the wall
Roger Waters’ band The Oilygarchs
play Tchaikovsky’s nutcase overture
live on old tin cans with catgut strings
Spotify lurks
plus the moon is new again & lit
up with solar powered LEDs
geo-stationary orbit gets
everyone’s vote
but the other hemisphere’s so what
all we hear from them’s complaint complaint
may conspiracies consume their night
we’re in the right
ain't disputin
oh he’s a
rootin
tootin
shootin
lootin
hoopin
whoopin
puttin
bootin
Putin
cos he’s a
stoopin
bloopin
droopin
lupin
lubin
tubin
fumin
poopin
Putin
he ain’t a
movin
groovin
croonin
spoonin
droolin
swoonin
hootin
moonin
Putin
for he’s a
troopin
groomin
gloomin
roomin
zoomin
boobin
foolin
provin
Putin
don’t save the turds eh
fragments from ekphrastic verses felt
tipped across a boghouse wall describe
famous catamites of old Pompeii
cheeky as day
archaeology ain’t dead you see
pics from Tutankhamen to the Ark
Royal’s underwater fish tank just
fathom them out
scratch appearances from DNA
vehicles or recompose a whole
hymn of Sappho’s from a single burp
nothing’s absurd
TS Eliot is pound for pound
cloned the profs of lit have over turned
every blasted line the begger wrote
lasered on scones
but mistake these toilet verses not
flush them down the pan so virtual
fish can choke upon their syntax no
joking they’re crap
geddit lord reprised
what do people want
better politics or sports
coverage d’you think
given half a chance
would they have a Westminster
win or Wimbledon
let the games commence
choose your brickbats rackets balls
alligator rules
crocodile reports
fifteenth century debauched
monks on tennis courts
umpires nailed to doors
score draws daubed on frescoed walls
losers crucified
another lunatic attempt
take the moon the moon
waxing waning bathed in light
front or back they zoom
cold but blazing white
craters blasts of debris plains
haloed leading edge
trail of mountain range
bright vibrating heaven made
now we know their age
matches ours we dance
round each other’s orbit tamed
yet so vibrant once
folk believed they reigned
god of hunting maid of shame
chorus skating dunce
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| a pretty nice girl |
eyes off
whither drivest thou
Queen Elizabeth the crown
now in storage waits
till our king has grown
older still for time exacts
patience from us all
villeins gentlefolk
those that wave the wand in jest
or who wouldn’t let
butter melt the worst
lie in state for decades while
eating crème brûlée
off the rations your
highness once a pretty nice
girl in overalls
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| not a pretty sight |
