thru a stout glass

D Mockney

making ends meet

 

overpriced & not

fit for purpose our

solid granite launch

sank like a rock

 

that’s enough of hard

ships it’s like some Greek

geezer’s metonym

flew from their pen

 

Styrofoam for inst

never mind the paint

ain’t a patch on sand

stoning the crows

 

if we must attempt

ocean crossings trust

not in blood or steel

horsemen dismount

 

metaphors break step

what we need’s a bridge

built of blood & tears

bugger the rest

out now in paperback, the chapbook,

click to view

what the Dickens

 

beaten black & blue with selfie sticks

blind as Gloucester when he saw the truth

what’s the point of all these violins

hand me the flute

 

hold that note but ditch the thought it sucks

background music fades to traffic noise

now Sir Alec Guinness saunters on

pimping his boy

 

Fagin though he’s not so cut the marsh

gas begin again it’s London Fields

circa 1822 or 3

orphanage meals

 

fake Olivier awards abound

clutching Oscar Hammersteins they sing

sweet as guttersnipes & other jail

birds on the wing

 

yay Polanski done us proud it’s eel

pie & mash all round but spare the sauce

partial to parsley I’d sooner we’d

talked with the horse

parental guidance

 

who should run for president but Joe

Blob of all the worst offenders’ mugs

popping up on screen yet folks demand

his on the plugs

 

cite the constitution blame the state

populism’s mainstream Babe cos George

Washington himself was sometimes licked

blimeys of course

 

tantamount to treason votes for gloats

order lollipop on wholewheat bread

Stormy Daniels going what’s your game

off with his head

 

call the Weinsteins in they knows the drill

training overtakes the urge & cry

stop before things get too far you owl

reach for the sky

 

there that wasn’t such a song & dance

wipe your button counting forty winks

Babe shall put the kettle on for tea

lovely cufflinks

Rabbit Burroughs

 

stench of nothing salt

water purified

madman overboard

failed to drown

 

washing up a beach

café open it’s

egg & chips & get

back in line

 

horror me no more

purple trouser smoke

Woodbines Players Weights

choice between

 

straight & narrow cop

movie logic bad

guys all good to go

on for years

 

crunch of boring owl

shingle Hastings prom

Battle Abbey lost

war & won

bit o’ Irish

read Joyce in the Lord & stick Beckett on your bucket list for that extra difficult lark you gotta slip some context in or maybe stage a contest no think it’s easy Mush calling the shots on Gaelic lit between Swift & Wilde the pressure dropped somewhat then all hell broke fast & loose talking bout override the seventh gear of man no woman cry gobbledegook & source the germs of pure wit or not to whit that is one question here’s another nay enough of yer rhetoric youse charlatans must have something to say whereas I have nothing you dig wafting on for no particular reason to pass the time of day or is it night I forget which to coin a phrase never quite understood the line between like break the mold or is it mould who cares there’s always gonna be some soft get standing on the dung heap beating a pair of owl frying pans and hollering yes hollering how it’s completely out of order beaming Scotty not on your Fitzgerald note the switch from Irish some say the Japanese have got the lot licked I wouldn’t know a half of stout’s about as much as I can rush to these days cheers Partisan you see it’s only the way of the world wear froth on me top lip as a moustache ask the barperson what they’re having cos when in Rome gotta take a look at a Pope even if they’re not in & the Colosseum or the Pantheon biggest concrete hat now there is a place that & Ye Cracke in Rice St not Rice Lane no Sir that would have to be the daycare centre formerly known as The Plough watering hole of the Proddy ghetto for all is changed a fiendish beauty gone to town

no slops!