Low Jinks and Crystal Sets

tuesday is a dumb day, a bin day, a drab day
a day laden down with protocol and melancholia
it must commence with a modest nosebleed
and a mit of shrivelled pitted prunes
or it is not worth its salt
solitary wanderers in the huzun night
find it irresistible

Warblings from some Distant Spring

Musk demilight– aqua, orchid, tourquoise,
bent over hoodwinked by a flighty moon
reach out to open optimistic windows
admit dunnock chirps & sample crisp ballooning air;
early worms watch dullard ghosts bow out
to head for air conditioned hulks;

silverfish hold out for frigid Juul tides,
white riders & twilit oceansides beg
time out for prearranged red handshakes
in vacant dayglo barns;
many is the slip twixt cup and lip
impatient to get on with it.
It! That meretricious pip.
May had its seventeenth today,
shrunk glorious summer down
to cheap sausage pork,
and in its putrid air a natal
rain exposed a summer still born,
A maid unaware craved its drains to roam,
its culverts to clog―
Saw red rain fell over the temple,
Developed an inability to spit,
And bore witness to a teal sky
Crowded out with bluebirds.
Omens abound like cliches come sweet dusk.

A shootist lazily rakes the gallery
A spotty little herbert called Anomie
Made to menace Venice
Jeopardised the tennis
Liberté, égalité, Débilité –

Close to tears on rising:
an invisible hornet bugs you
you open a velvet blind
What is it that chastises?
Is it a far off chainsaw?
Wash the scuff away
Regret another curfew day
Showered down thorough.
Spent time writing proper.
Fucked it up. Corrected. It worked!

All of this comes to you thanks to a power shower
I stood on one leg blindfold intoning
‘I don’t wanna know her’,
a little keyhole waltz if you will
recounting old times in the Ozarks
Cussing our imaginary friend Zillard.
The lies flow outrageously as spring flood water…
a hot scrub is the prelude to a crisp neo-write supremacy:
A thousand tweets a day and soon you’re washed away.
Like a one legged Willy Lomax, a legend in his own body waste,
wisecracking as he vaporises in a steamy void

Begin over with the goat stew she left out on the table
The cord flex dangling idly in the cavernous hall
The fabulous smell of oily tuna permeates the bamboo wall
Losing a grip of the catchy word makes you chippy
flitting like a teasing fly
The mocking phrase that slights the cliche
Line by line the words drip dry.
Sure now this is nowhere you’re free.


Change is Dangerous



Pleased to inform you

that the operation was a

total success and

I am now a proper woman

All thanks to homemade napalm

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Dewar saw the fear, read the cower, laughed.
His capricious myrmidons looked the other way.
The bush was sharp, dew damp and dirt dusty.
He jumped before he was felled.
The wounds were evidently self-inflicted.
He makes a habit of this.
Control was all.
‘He’s mad alright’ said Dewar
‘Told you‘ said Trimble.
They melt back in the playtime throng.
Parr helped him out of the bush.
The legs are scratched deep and bleeding.
Why? Contrition is the wetter part of valour.
The big yellow streak dilates.
Might is always right in the name of Peace.
Spring comes slowly up
pissing about to the echo of a toothless mastiff chewing
onea rock with a fiddle, singing of the abducted.
plonked awkward on a mute piebald palfrey

little ditties…(i am a walnut)


micropoems crowd
scarred free blogs save our doleful
planet from gutter
unnecessary clutter
peagreen penknife trysts
slashed on old tree blogs
Eternally yours forelorn
Tina’s coming very soon
…so just dig it dorothy
swallow the yellow brick road
& forever remember
neutron stars sleep all day
recharging batteries then
scintillate all night

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Darning Socks for Sontag

Endured cross stitch ups and venal stings,
incursive pine needles and lupins,
divisive thimbles and tumbrils,
concluded justice must be obscene to be undone
that finger food sucks at Funky Fiona’s,
regretted the futile fracas in Franco’s Head Shop,
and, at the heel of the hunt,
feeling flabberghastly
repeeled a grape for Delilah–
Yes the bummer’s done.
Now sat here the huge jukebox
affecting a timid demeanour
behind purple drapes
we, with blunted needles and bent pins,
darn socks for Sontag.



meek winds sing small ills:
niffles snuffles niggles gripes
Gene Wilder’s gone stone deaf
dazzling daisies pomp no more
turning leaves bonfire bright
-must we go to grown up school 
this time every year?

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The Bragging Hall


Shut the craven door, put on the long sleeves…here it comes
Rouged erotic fall apples hang heavy in the sweaty orchard

Too often and falsely I have been told I am loyal, true and faithful,
Honest to a fault, capacious in my tolerance

Why let waste-wolves take their pick, leaving us wild boar
Cherish stray abandoned cryptic sirens

While rapine tyrants mocking strut their bawdy stuff, and raze ivory bone chapels
to cinders as innocence stands by looking on?

Untongue this serpentine insatiable ambition, stuff red hot pokers in it till it puffs
up like a hamster at the cud

Let that be an end to it for good, then retire us we shall to the bragging hall to winter in stories tall as giant pines and spruces

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A Dude Awakening

Grimbeau are not writing thus you are not a writer i am not writing thus i am not a writer -better quickly jot that down quick over there that paper scrap with spuds eggs, toilet rolls, dog food,crisps some forgotten shopping list or postmodern masterpiece what a bloody mess better get out the Hoover later there's nothing on the other side where's the pen? there, a pen, blue dried up biro, it might just work today. Increasingly violent circles- watch it, you'll rip it: A pencil! there behind the box of menthol vapes behind the burning candle careful, slowly does it that's how accidents occur i really must go to the loo. the dog wants to go out i can let him out and go downstairs, listen to the early morning news Shit! the clocks went back it's bloody Alan Bennett fetching in the milk i am not a writer…

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Nasturtian Complex

Not on Dover Beach

Mr Potato Head — The Avocado

So, that was Black Friday: the first day of winter intimations, cool rain and mud. For the first time in months he breathed from his pelvis, his kidneys were in good cheer, and his bowels mirthful with the prospect of heavy stews and baked potatoes. ‘Spudfinger…ba-baa-ba; he’s the man, the man with the tuba touch’ […]

Mr Potato Head — The Avocado

To Paulo


sun after rain
steam shrouds leaf
stone wood dries
rot haze fades
fingers pause linger
tears fall smiling
continuum must

Kilroy & Cadwallader were here

Entropy ain’t what it was
In the chokey oakum days
The greazy gabardine mack days
The sad brown paper bag days
The dainty doris day days
we were young at heart then
pistol whipping work horses
who toiled in broke up city streets
Hawking stucco frontispieces & smiley culture vulture daubs
You deny that people called Duck did once exist?

An oxygen experience is tough enough to get over.
Personally, I gained fuck all that I want in life no worries.
I am perfectly content in mind and bodybag
Indeed all the tension drops from my body
lukewarm and utterly butterly,
It’s as if I were sitting beside a friendly fire,
Well wrapped up in a crinkly blanket,
rocking gently back and forth.

Communication is unpleasant and unnecessary
Under the influence of oxygen,
You soon see no companionship at all is best
I accept myself and the world just as we are, separate
not begrudgingly,
but eagerly,
ecstatically even.

Wet coal tipples blanket bluffs,
Rusted out coal tipples
blanket breezy bluffs
Twisted track curls up
gnarly knotted toes
Industry was here
Once below a time
Declared unfit by Kilroy & Cadwallader


O for a life less examined, with nothing to be compared and measured by;
then with that overcome, will you bend my shirts for old times sake?
Set your Grimoires aside for rainless, aimless sorrow days;
gambol free in pigeon slippers through Dijon mustard fields;
assume the lifestle of a burgher of Elysia,
We today shall call oursleves Ashfodel & Bergamon,
and make merry in naff herbaceous borders.
First shower carefully perched upon a lofty sill
and do not spill the soap
plunge awkwardly
and become
a pepper speck in the universal wet room lino.
A ferocious fungus grows on my hipbones,
an unsightly ganglia, purpley and pacoderm.
Attribute it to the dim light cast in the black jade mirror.
Those dark atlantic raves play merry hell with the orbs.
A new moon, I hear: what of the old one?
Confer with the owl when twilight holds sway.

Clacton Calling



Sur le Plage, de l’Or


the beach



Norman's Bay Starfish

O’er them  dunes,

Cap’n Mudd!’

Says Mrs Hands.

…just go left at the war mines,

 right at the shipwreck,


Bob’s yer Uncle

It’s just there

opposite Aldi.’

Put on, or should it be, donned

John’s bonce on the hob.

Brain versus brawn

is a no-brainer.


after a lean while

Herod buys bonking time,

hides it in his Wish Urn

The sheer, brazen


Sauce of the fellow!

‘Chopsy prophet.

Salome’s mum

was a right one


Folkestone Ferry


On Golden Beach.

Lemmings swarm

Ferreting about.

Dredgers look on.


In easy, idle, calm.

Just waiting

for the

Ebb to Flow


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Freedom Days

Drowning in Project Ocean waters
we bulk buy curses concealed inside
twenty slices of US cheese
bound in kangaroo skin
and peruse mein kampf bound in purest skunk
and human anatomies encased in human hides

the brush clunks in the tar bucket
motley multicoloured rabbles contrive
exquisite leprosies
in dripping ginnels
and confuse spalpeens with calumnies
and catastophies with freedom days

In a tent in Kent (or something for the weekend)

Penicillin Road drops steep
cuts and bores
through sheer bare escarpments & stark granite defiles,
surges frothing fizzes over roadside boulders
churns up windblown chaff and docile dross
Befor it slows meanders and morphs
into torpid oxbow kidneys and verdant flood plain gallops

Some nights while still sounding thunderous
it prances fast through otiose viscous varicose arteries and drives insane men’s veins
through canny chicanes
scorning litigious bunions & seedy rundown canyons of doubt
eagerly cresting on horizon tendons it defies proud ligaments,
mocks cists & melts stubborn pockmarks and rueful cataracts
and spills into the ulcerated sea off Old Toe Head
where swathed in crinkly lint chinked amber pulses
itoscillates lit up by strobing lunar beats

Shoe sized egomaniacal
west ham actors &
two bit part harp players
& sundry stray intrusive
sporty parties snarl & bicker
disgorging muckbill platitudes
to puggled flustered
rashly squeezed bone
girdled gossip mongers
hawking meagre humble wares

The morning after the dud who faked sincerity
got shunned by rank indifferents of all races, creeds and colour theorists…

lightspilt first up back of four
just as Saul found out
why the lucid coast
of duvet moans in jest
= Effluenza or Influenza?
Who cares much these days
Pass over the capsule and be an Angela, my sweet.

Broken News from Dawn Patrol announces…
Windows of opportunity get three thumbs up should Halloween pass without unsavoury eruptions

Second waves pronounced the new first moon by turd party arsonists
sampling tea leaves humping hope to an amen beat the
last chance balloon leaves come dawn on this vernal equinox
Ethics in AI gets bunk up from fretful plutocrats with more money than funny.
Glass and concrete truth domes full of ratfinks tremble

Peasant slaughtered by boy racer
stooges a monarch in a Star & Garter Gig.
The town of Richmond mourns behind closed minds
Ten finger professionals occupy space
set aside for cheetahs lost in transit.
Stare out these days through shopfronts
displayed on handheld flymo gizmos.
All shapes and sizes filed under laudable applaudables.
Feasible exercisers say strain not yet no sinew.
Spineless fatigue pandemic supine sighs.
Vagrant anchovy is upset that the mule abjures.
Profligate cartwheels & takes rap for cold cold snap.
Sidelined on the margin: peripheral & subliminal.
If this is true~ if so what follows…Huh?

Well shod gunshot rider racer
royally glides roughshod over
an enfeebled citizenry in broad daylight
impression of crass snobbery

Third June Thursdays don’t get much longer in the short run
Search engines rise with suns to take you down you guessed it:
Penicillin Road

Secrete a bloom bury it deep in forget me knots…twas Midsommer Day she sent ashtray…
too near to something hot. Hot like mercury…
Slipshod ellipses. Pulling and Squeezing.
Falling yet not falling yet.
Turning yet not spinning
Ear fluids sloshing sloshily.
Smell of sweet pine.
Drizzling wild honey.
Lingers on licky fingers
Last days on earth. Pungent like liquorice…
Dad’s Army and psycho dramaturgy,
Cadmus family values rule KO
down at Thebes by the Sea.
Cast off thousands
Bear their teeth.
Laughter releases no fun juggler:
Watertight alibis spring no leeks
& sink like stones
but butter no parsnips
Muddle muddles through mind
Cassini pulls it off like Daisy
Days start up sluggish smooth
listen out hard to silence golden
struggling to swallow Penicillin
before the capsule melts in bitter toxin
Go eat something quick before singe
Heavy ordnance stems the onslaught
The moon grows big over Medina
Quiet whistlers kicking sticks down windy lanes
Dawn rain sprinkles dust
Brambles break out of a livid hedgerow
Something small in there is Movement
roused by scent of Danger
keens it the hungry eye?
Probably a rat according to What The papers say.

Who the hell is Wallace Bronson?
His name’s all over town these days. I hear them big him up. I hear them put him down. Perhaps a craze that came and went. Grabbed an hour dreamt of warm embraces
By the jolly neck old chap.

An entire dramatic action complete unto itself plays out.
Heard Wallace later utter
scutter thick as butter
as nearby thickly knitted people talk creative ambiguities purr
Bigging up ticklish solutions tripping out on funny money
camped out overnight on sodden cloud cuckoo landscapes
Party party party time–
scuffed up leather horsehair stuffing entrails;
bouncing up and down
Being naughty Backseat Sunday of a Morris Oxford under blurred high hedges
low trees rain drips water splash ‘Watch Out for that Unicorn!’
Blue serge suited chubby mammy’s boy down potholed back roads boasts to blackberry ramblers
in see through macks ‘Gulp cool smell of cowshit honeysuckle’
Crows claw fat green leaves
water blobs erupt dog roses
Polished brogues flashing matching socks
handkerchief sporting little gentilhomme
scrams knee go fetch Dettol and dabbing cloth
Bathe it pink till stop sobbing dry pats
Blow softens ouch its stingy cotton settle down beige flesh stickplaster

Finished as if applause follows that little performance
threw a fugue fandango now cards strewn pell mell on parquet floor rug
ruined when fur flew past Spree of exasp…desper…constern…
Bleargh splat yucca hahahaha…wash hands swift job done wait in purdah taube.
What awaits two guilty buddhas Sat glum cross legged on the whipping mat? Caught fighting over emberscraps. Saucysnaps, Easy policeman ticking off did not goog the nups marked earclip. No slipper beatings ever did so. Petit crims entertain mad whims.
Parrot learners think on it or else.
Fastest omelette west of the Quantocks, some claim Sideshow Slobbo warm ups for the main event primarily to Cause a stir. Take the floor. Do a turn. Fry. Self immolation. Make a memorable memory . Eventful everlasting daydream. Ends in tears. Where’s he gone this time? Pff. Declined the invite . To act like I am a goat. Not the scene. Made excuses curt and left via dockland drain. Let off a steamer at St Malo. Burn it up. Ends in tears. Where else? A Scrambled Shambles? Seen later Down and dirty in the Dog and Duck making quavers last all night oak log fireglow damp socks steaming Catch an eye nod snarl grimace smile of visog recog. Same or similar plight. Stages of alight Depth charge and fat warhead cure.
Brace yourself for Skegness by the Sea. Cornish riviera dip. Dipping crooked toesies. Roll ups. Just like Xenophon. Full of importance when no one is Taking notes. Ten a penny eyebrows. Pencil in moustachio. Pocket Dirty Postcard sly crowd Sneaking peeps as Gertie sorts her girdles. Giant rubber diva gives out full blast. Empurpled by whelk frenzy. Getting sweet on. Hats flew up. Wind blows up the corridor & Up comes Pavarotti. Oily smooth snake charmer. Bedknob manner writ all over. Sleep the last thing on his.
‘Don’t the wind blow up the passage, Mrs Bulbous!’…’Away now with yer sauce’… Fun & games. Sigh like Clifton Webb on hemp. Fresh Fish soon goes off. Black Eye.
Cuckoo Waltz to Fin.
Roho man barges in unmolested by Torwart who given to flinches…
Who wants a Brownie pointf. Pofte ‘Crved Hairdo’ Draft One (A Manifefti). Commentatorf acknowledge
A refemblement to Fji’f Wok in paffing merrily on their way. Pfffed Off Altogether. Weftward Huff!*
But what? Say what? What of? Furtive fifteen minnows flounder
frekled flambuoyant flanneur reflects on ephemera in a Sin Shop window. Fiddlesticks & Fu Manchu .
Hickey’s Hockey Sticks. Fallopian Tuba ompahs Aatomata rattle gaudy boxes
Comenotye hither smiles the little drumstick.
Dirty thoughts charade. Penny for. Pinafore. Petticoat.
Philanderers and Swann- Hunter.
Burgess & McClean breast pocket.
Gilbert O’Sillivan. Ethelred’s Outsize Outfitters shrinks.
King Kong of Marvin Hagler Gardens. Hennesey Hiccups.
Hearn’s Hooha handwash. Nefertiti bugles most brunchtimes.
Maple Syrup syllables go viral. Slighly slurry Senora spouts.
Teeth must have ulterior motives. Chattering classes ticking boxes.
Upper set affixed with creamcheese. Round the bend lost wristwatch scowls.
Sleeve strolled up deep breath and plunge humourous. Ignominy sancti. Next to cuddliness.
Gawblimeyness but bawdier. A Knight at the Opera remembers Penicillin Rd

Red Mud

Chiropractors rule under
unknown worlds of boney calcite gristle–
‘We take you to bits but do not know how to
put you back together’ they declare
damming misdirecting truncating spurning subjecting —

consider a topography of tubes and screens
draining into olive kidney dishes,
ox bow crimson lakelets,
and opaque epidural highland tarns.
hear up echoes resound to hollow vessels

mimic the clunk of dropping spanners;
observe soft rivets tremble at the thought;
contemplate the fighting Tamarare tugboat straining
its chrome yellow hawsers.
Gravesend is all lit up for monkey business.

elsewherea pink mist of locusts
flock remorseless as wallpaper
part to reveal the true Kilimanjaro
bypassed by a Hemingway flyover
while those nearby nose dive into soft sage bush

Stratus shall get the gutter work if they want
when the bleeding chaffinch stops
leaving an indelible mark
that vanishes without trace
beneath the red mudddied third mind’s eye

Old Rope Money

the plaguy bill off beat
commands sand chiropractors rule under
unknown worlds of boney gristle–
damming misdirecting truncating spurned —
a topography of tubes
draining into kidney dishes,
ox bow lakelets,
and opaque highland tarns.
hear up to hollow vessels
echo at the clunk of dropping spanners;
soft rivets tremble at the thought;
the fighting Tamarare tugboat strains
its hawsers.
Gravesend is all lit up for business.

Space Clinker

We called the comet Ambrose after tinned rice pudding
and spectcular sunsets by campfires on the old A5

The Duke had been busy with his gun by the look of it,
spent cartridges littered the mile-a-minute and ondive

Billy was sure of a good clattering when she told him
yet tears and snot were wiped away on his furtive sleeve

When Ambose fell to earth he was no more than a clinker
yet we raised him as one of our own and watched him thrive


After the hiatus of the iron gutter,
the tumult of the bamboo jungle.
as the rains and plagues return
you find yourself eighty pounds lighter–
sooner or later you will weigh nothing at all:
Only then the problem will be solved
when an awkward comet promises too much
just as a gold digger in the crispened snow
of a teeming desert island called Roy expires

Adventures in the Scone Trade
did not fulfill your expectations
then as ever you were duped,
seen and taken for a mug
by sly slick master bakers
who offend the morals of the skunk.
Three years later you walked back in
and gave me five more children to rear
on a piano teacher’s laughable salary

The Forty percent Solution

Evidently prunes and bananas seldom
budge stubborn nations,
an annular eclipse
(a total package with a forty per cent discount
and a ring of fire thrown in for good measure)
obscured by rain clouds. nonetheless
Biden about to get up
to some pure act of good
(don’t mention the blasted sausages):
avoidance of error removes the need for correction.
There was blood curdled
on the sheet and blood clotted on the chair.
we carried on as if nothing were there.
nonchalantly, one might caution

The Orthotics of Banality

morning sun intense on garden window gets you up sleep blind to stand on one leg, take 
your pills, overdose on vitamin d and reward
yourself with two spoonfuls of laudanum; waiting for Andy and Pritti to mate and watch your toes turn blue. 
Assume the horizontal and the pueumatic
hammering begins, the power tools of sunday morning, the razing of humdrum lawns. 
You fall back asleep clutching your talismanic vape and find yourself in a one horse town 
atop a chiselled desert path, lights shine from the buildings
it is snowing, out to sea moonlight defines the cliffedge in brilliant blues and yellows, a 
concave tube connects the sky and earth. Waiting in the lobby a
voloptuous dark haired woman appears and asks you in. The reflection shows 
dark rings beneath your eyes. There is a room inside being prepped for
a procedure. a large white haired matron approaches you with notes. 
she does not know about the extraordinary pills you take.
 A little fat man barges in imposing his importance
you say he is interrupting, he ignores you, he thrusts his hairy arse is in your face, 
you shout fuck off and wake up. the dog is barking. Did he hear you sceaming?

those lights on the cliff were sublime, the rock pools vibrant, the water spout majestic, 
agony offset in a desert blizzard mild and still, you were not alone, there was a familair silhouette, 
you leapt to the obvious assumptions and were proved right
right about the jab appointment. It is today. She is due at on the dot of five-thirty. 
No chicken dinner. No clean floor. No fresh bed. 
People never show on rainy days. On this globe every day it rains. 
Who was that on the phone? Gives it sound cause for some concern?
Approaching storm clouds dim the light, you turn up the heat before  the great incoming sloosh
'Great Suicide Weather,' said the old man staring into crowded space. May proves itself a foaming seething zone.

The Third Man Cometh

Over a hour since 
you hit on Notes from the Underground 
by old laughing boy 
(how you loved misspelling his name!)
on audiobook. 
He insists on pure enjoyment! 
An enjoyment of depradation. 
Because of the inertia 
that follows on  from an over-acute conscience
spilt a thin nick to long on--
thus there is no escape 
from being a long grass bum. 
There is nothing else to be. 
So enjoy the despair. 
Fancy a coffee? I bet you do.
Sure you won't drop that?

Strange Brew (King Kong Garden)

A tea of 
foliage churns our garden round,
        But not a 
tea of 
dull unvariegated green,
        Sharp contrasts 
of all colours here are to be seen;
The light-green 
graceful tamarinds abound
Amid the 
mango clumps of green surround,
        And palms arise, 
gorillas pray, between;
        And over there 
shooting pool the villains lean,
Red,—red, and 
startling like a trumpet’s sound.
But nothing 
can be lovelier than the strangeness
        Of bamboos 
to the eastward, when the moon
Keeks through their 
raps, and the white lotus changes
        Into a 
cup of silver. One might swoon
               Drunken with 
beauty then, or graze and gaze
               On a primeval Eden  persiflage.

A Solitary Mistah

A dead unrequited tree has fallen bridelike on the sunrise.
in all likelihood the crazy sparrows will befriend it
bring it grubs and larvae to create utopia from its folds
since castration the buffalo spaniel gives a wide berth
to prone toxic temptations sullying his vista: language,
he inferred later, leaves no trustworthy fossils

The Woman in Red

Obscenities are music to dandelions
your foul mouthed garden 
is full to bursting
Unlike bores to endure at wakes
the first to arrive the last to leave
do you recall we were happy
unwhaling a mushroom quiche 
on a willow pattern platter and garnishing it
with corrugated parsley?
By this time it was whatever it is
nobody slept well and we woke refreshed
safe in the knowledge the weeds were cursed
some days now you just serenade the brambles
when the power tools have gone shopping
when the weather is bad you write sestinas 
psychokinensis is a dandy word


Merriweather & Manson Make Out

Dylan movie ambles down 
below jampacked with namedrops 
cameos and zen flavour wisecracks: 
up here in the crows nest 
full of psychic anthrax
and chintzy liquorice 
the ice floes pause for thought. 
Opening the landing window & 
admitting the savage boreus-- 
What the fuck were you playing at? 
You knew about the kerosene

Swimming to Abrasia

Sleepless till gone dawn, 
took pills at five, got a few hours, 
listened hard to Alexei, Mary, 
and the bird tapping on the landing window
then let out the dog and did tai chi with a vape
before the postman had good reason to walk past. 
Thought long and hard about water 
spilling over the bridge of sighs, 
and then thought of you saying 
'Fuck me a flying gondola, upside down inside handcuffs.' 
If things keep going this well
you might end up getting  discovered. 
Then what? Splash...

Poor Sweet Little Matty

repairing telephone booths is a thankless business these days
people walk past laughing pointing dark squares
just yesterday a trout exploded in front of the shop
wish i had caught that for posterity
one day i am going west
for rest and recuperation
a place without wires
a place with no connections to repair
the swim of hunchback trout

Frank Nuns

One stupid broad don't make a summer
to accomplish this onerous 
task you require:
a pride
a gaggle, 
a posse, 
a murmuration, 
a flock, 
a swarm,
a riot, 
a host, 
a crowd, 
a plague,
a herd, a school, a shoal
a parliament, a phallus...

The Worsewick Paradigm

Posted off that lump of shit up there above the date and time
fuck all else to do since the flea circus folded, 
the barn owl coughed,
and we burnt down the lunatic asylum
wonderful weather out there, nonetheless
no hot water to speak of, 
you await the seagull interregnum. 
Where's the presripted drugs? 
Everything but the Oromorph 
coming today. scant revenge for the Valladolid lawn atrocity, 
the blank candour of the rurales, the suffering of Juteland gnomes, 
the crisp decaying thyme of long,
deglected windowsills, the simperings of Little Matty,
the drudgery of elevenses, the carnal whelp of bob tailed dactyls
the maple leaves of bicameral arcadia...

Bounteous Pearl White Clout

Vast reserves of morpheus 
lean back satiated 
banked up by king size willows 
empty phials bob on the Lethe.
moonlight rakes the memory 
like sten guns on the  lilac Adriatic
this was never a town for joyriders on a spree
joined kindle unlimited for kicks, 
a read on a passing cloud
groupthink gets cricks it in the neck
have i spent bad money?
a little bit of testimony 
does a body good
illuminate thine selfhood


Daft as a thrush in song,
peppered by turtle dove shot, 
endangered specious snipers go to pot
seen nobody but your familiars 
since the shodding excursion. 
No discourse on the telling bone 
except to the pharmakon
one egg owed to the corner shop. 
Sir Noot ate all the crusty bread. 
Mettoys crude long vehicles 
jacknifing in your head
as i breathe i grows 
rich transporting ancient coins 
over the funicular isthmus 
on the tough bodies 
of the cattle of Bashan

A Post Card

Orifamme burst open dawn canopy back of horse chestnut plantation on the cusp of five-thirty.
opposite this old place, the beige house was dark red and outside here the border hedge  
a defiant pea green the like of which you have never seen before.
After tablet medication, you mulled over the holy thought and avian tweet of the day before 
all things bright and beautiful from the guest Rev Livermore's finest work
got sullied by the sleazy  apocalyptic six o'clock news
As you drank up your coffee you took in the morning congress of robin, pigeon , and sparrow on the
bread strewn table and it raised a smile. Then it was back to the pneumatic bed for daybreak dreams.
You woke to Wimmins Heure; hear small plastic bags are banned and amoral breast implanters from the 
continent havebeen brought to book and must cough up substantial damages.
it amuses you when a tory lady gets berated by fiery emma's cross questions suggest mealy-mouthedness. 
you are still constipated but well read up on derrida getting busted on his
trip to prague in the early seventies (the grounds for his mission to deconstruct the usa?)
as ever your words are not flowing freely; has your twitter inactive account been corrupted? 
I sincerely hope so.

Vigil for a Burning Dog

On the ruby doorstep before you stands a parcel for Professor Phipps, It contains a pouch of pulverised sage intended to keep your lonely onion amused over a plague infested Yule.

A thermo-nuclear fog envelops the sleepy town of Trollenberg as erotic zombies fill dishwashers incanting the curses of Mali and smiling on the memory of Nkrumah’s wizard foxtrot.

‘Maradonna’s dead’ They chant.

‘Good, but what of little Diego?’ Prompts the whip cracker.

‘Mudlarking, no doubt. Skipper. Prizing dentures from washed up concubines of the East Indian mob enshrouded in sepia drab.’

A sable crow observes all of this from a tendrilled groyne. The ocan is muted, unspectacular, vivid. Waters lap. A heat pipe chortles in darkest Abrasia.

‘Will he wash?’ Chant the wanton zombies

‘In good time, when the opportunity arises.’

An emphatic whip crackles.

‘The crusty stench is beyond the pale of the daily luminal’

‘Up here on Waum Wen we call it crud’


‘Poor wee Diego’

Playing Fasti with Lucifer

If your youth spoke words of love,
give him this answer right away:

‘There’s too much light here, it’s too shameful
In the light: if you’ll lead us to a darker cave, I’ll follow.’

While he goes in front, credulously, and had no sooner reached
The bushes you  hid: and were nowhere to be found.

Janus saw you, and the sight raised his passion.
He used soft words to the hard-hearted nymph.

She told him to find a more private cave,
Followed him closely: then deserted her leader.

Foolish child! Janus can see what happens behind him:
You gain nothing: he looks back at your hiding place.

Nothing gained, as I said, you see! He caught you, hidden
Behind a rock, clasped you, worked his will, then said:

‘In return for your union, the hinges belong to you:
Have them as recompense for your maidenhead.’

So saying he gave you a thorn (it was incidentally a white-thorn) 
With which to drive away evil from the threshold.

There are some greedy birds, not those that cheated
Phineus of his meal, though descended from that race:

Their heads are large, their eyes stick out, their beaks
dressed as vermin in ermine and prone to crass cupidity

The Party for Moderate Progress Without the Bounds of the Law


You who remember Squire Gonks’ Almanac and Charlie’s Aunt beware. Beware of foam stuffed velvet aphids. of gaudy palmable comfort bags,  of protei packed cabbage patch dollies, and other suchlike pre Vietnamese potbellied fads.  Gaudy were those blobs born fully formed of an optic oil crisis and a  major miner’s strike that felled a regime of long standing empire of snot, botched though they were by lumpen candlelight late into the black out night during the three day week, when a ten o clock blindfold was a plaything of the pissed.

If the Gonks could do it then you could do it too. You could have a privileged white space hopper or a bespoke purple chopper and flaunt your carefree brazen streak in broad daylight through  scrumptious corporate orchards. Mister Mennish in ambition but not so cuddly as gonks were in a disposable tactile tantrum way; eminently best home-makeable on the laminate dinner table – blunt scissors, clear gummed, sample felts of tasteless hues & farbs – put it together and you surely got your Gonk!

Mine bestie was called Paulus, a mythical gnome in a fabulous lamimate wood, purloined from under a trestle table at a school fete worse than death by gammon tickling. It was Paulus who suffered a fly on the wall documentary crew to film in his ancestral home and share the ups and downs of  pastoral life in the knot of a tree with a bunch of fellow arboreal misfits . As I recall there was a big mean black crow called Ted Hughes who harboured deep dark secrets of the occult and allotment plot.

Paulus disintegrated  after a vigorous drubbing in a temperamental twin tub. having always had a penchant for self harm then known as accident prone by abusive adults.

Life sure weren’t perfect by no means in the seventies. 


river reeds make a scanty bed
the frantic lust for riches
beyond the wildest dreaming
audacious barefoot beetles

scented lofty ridge ahead
ecstatic gust bewitches
capricious barefoot beetles
indulge the wildest dreaming

wildest barefoot river reeds
indulge audacious beetles
scented scanty bed bewitches
capricious lust for riches


May got seventeen today, 

made glorious summer by this sausage pork,  

and in its air a’plenty 

rain revealed a summer born, 

the maid unaware craved its drains to roam, 

its culverts to clog―

a strange pain over the tantric temple, 

a sudden inability to spit, 

a teal sky, 

and a giant bird: 

omens look pretencious at dusk.

warm up

Perish the floorboards that overhead creak, blast those heavenly strangers that audaciously speak, expounding crass mouthfuls of weak forked tongued chic, while outside your window a thunder rumbles, and inside your stomach grumbles sleep, when blank lassitude replaces pernicious scorn. Soon the rain rushes and winds lash, dreamscapes fall urgently, sudden, thick, vast. Cool insurgent breezes cut through stuffed draught worn halls. Yet above they just keep chuntering and you must strain to know what’s happening and get to not worry too much about what a load of shite that is. This is not the point of this exercise it is more to do with keeping your fingers moving and the juices flowing after this prolonged enforced lay off so never mind if it smacks of Torrance in the Overhang and it does not scan. You are not obliged to show it to this world of strangers and avatars who haunt the pestilent ether. Caught deep in mid breath came a loud crash, ‘What is that bloody awful noise downstairs?’ Okay just get it down and to hell with the editing and punctuation, wait till the cows come home to roost. Your balls are hurting. Go out for a walk in the tropical suburban garden. Take a nocturnal piss on the ugly laurel by the crimson front door for old times sake. It will soon be dispersed by a cloudburst. Hailstones will pepper the dawn this time round. Get up for a drink and washed your ears when it arrives. Keep it going till light brings scant relief. Open the little window wider. Turn the heating down a notch.

Tomorrow visitors are legalised.



hand chat



just go







You must do








T e e n i e

W e e n i e


View original post

When all the seas run dry

when the moon in the sky 
is a big peice of pie it's perturbing
all martians are closet anthropologists
the quality of mercy is not strained 
hence the lumpy bits
seize the day gently 
by the scruff and rotate 
leeward on its axis
run rabbit ran the takeaway on gin lane
dry me a river 
as i dried a river 
over last weekend  
my baby don't send me clothes 
love can move fountain pens




wet first frost

rest thin little

finger on a pin,

four wet angels




Petra Sighed

Glistening dewdrops grace the tea rose alcazar gremlin

overseeing the hand carved city of stone

A petrified cat stuck in a deserted air vent:

reduced to a pareidolia mirage on a solar phone

Shared from a golden feast barn

marooned in peanut sedge brocade

overlooking the hanging gardens of Armageddon

where bellicose black air hangs over a subhuman cave

A tope blurred slinky gal in a gale shelters

Happy out as steam Radio

medicated by the one I love

Peace breaks out in a rosy rash

henry flower


Four chinooks pass over in diamond formation beetle
speeding after a fast car whooshes past by chance
I wonder how the giant laurel appears to flourish
In a builders bucket but get lost and give it up as a bad job
to hobble off swallowing pride over the biscuit grass
pausing only to smile back at some smiley gnomes
leaning awkward on a rotten purple fence post
entangled in wild barley corn barbed comments stifled
The pike eats up the radio, the salmon eats the lucid fridge,
opiate withdrawal you sliding slippery eel, sends a message from eternity, which reads, ‘Sorry, We’re not ready quite for you yet, there’s been an unknown known. Jemima XXX.’
Till all the seas run dry, my love
Till all the seas run dry, my love
Till all the seas run…
Overheated after a hard day
down the dairy with hairy Mary
wary of…

View original post 152 more words

Gasman Under Gurney Tree

Rowdy cloud

bursts  open

freshening wind

dispels turbulent air

origin Cathay


homespun yarn

chainsaw massacre  

cherry blossoms

gently fall on wet asphalt  

imperilling  blackwater :   

P e r I l — (I is a big blossom) 

a silver skein rupture exposes

a galleon twig trapped on emerald sea — 

such schisms split serenity asunder  

As wide skies open  

Ground rents increase   

on coppiced picket lines 

flaked out nudes pass by conversing in pink gauze tropes 

—                only fools left to endure incremental sedation 

    sifting through twisted space junk  

                                       left to plunder the sparse first light  

observing rooftop silhouettes  

                    crawling on a chocolate rhombus 

There a pollarded alp  

stumps up crumbly chimney stumps 

Like an old decapitated toblerones 

sernaded by a  jackdaw circus  

The rigid khaki wrack stacks start to wobble  

precariously perched atop  

A faggot burden is cast away 

Down a crumbledown  Ambleside mountain  

Under which  

a little fat boy wanting outies  

Writhes as Cader Idris sizzles 

protesting the right to skedaddle  

onrushing scree flurries overlap 

to wreak havoc & rage & rumpus  

Stay indulge the happy prospect of an avalanche 

confined to poxy screenplay dross  

deemed unfit for family funsters 

cross legged scrammed by yapping seagulls  

as winging blackbirds sure drive folks   

hopping mad 

grinding up anthracite briquettes  

freed up from coal shed solitary  

A modest refinement to desire 

converting them to coking coal  

hatching audacious escape plans 

embrace a sudden urge to defaecate  

running out of temper tantrum

silence is compromised by   


O Calcutta coal shed 

Paradelia drips on stone porchway 

overflowing gutters ebb  

an ardent dew lapped overnight 

Farley Hill now rests in peace 

The square left to merge 

In flaccid repose  close to hibernation;  

dreamtime in the shires;  nighlights dazzle field mice;  

chess fielders enjoys a slight reprise;  


a clay pipe of old grey, a buoyant cottage loaf, a mix of 

influences to enjoy…will there be a pmqs? my eyes are getting worse. artificial light a must. it was still dark at seven thirty;  

a heavy twilight; not long till the clocks go back; how long ago did I get paid; thoughts of open fires and foaming  

pints vanish come eleven; all that getting ready… 

two fizzies dropped in tap water. a shot of cranberry the second time round. If red candles on: blue candles off;  

back to fresh dream bed for breakfast;  

hoover up, as in stairs, aboveness the location; where server updates spoof disease; do people work in real time? 

Cautious Emma always slides on wet stuff. Catch a nasty chill out in this she will; clouts recommended are clouts rejected; 

stroppy forty-three-year olds; internalized know all’s detect from far the sound of distant sausages  impeding progress on the jaunty loaf of life;  southsouth west an alarm wails, a dog yaps–is clipping time come round again? Perhaps a minor accident 

On the grubby outskirts. a bypass roundabout gridlocked seethes; trepidatious revs resound; that bloody alarm is getting on my tits; just having a wee write i was; not many around so took the chance 

nobody seems to want disturbing; what a bloody bore; getting on with it, they call it; doing the rounds of the daily grind; now the bloody engines choking; 

This henry lark, he repeated: is it really all about Lydia? Endless reruns of screens pace necromancies. Life goes on streaming without you know. Vomit–see what comes up whole  

Enjoy the ride. Best you can sober stay that is it could prove novel. truth is i am off it keeps. regular hours did it hands up. Fixity of purpose. No more delusions of grandeur. The good old nine to five. 

A creative in a canvas sandpit sustained by holograms of angels feather dusting tramps of gruffly… 

a good bit later it would seem, sun going down, the radio voice of Evan Davis rabbits on explaining things for lesser species in a friendly tone that no one in their right mind trusts 

Everybody carries an agenda in their portfolio nowadays Young Cheroot she said looking for a hook to grab me with. To sweep me up and carry me off while at the same time you maintain staying put is a canny trick, calmly intrusive, yet stubbornly resisting further tales of jellied eels and cyanide.  


Return from elsewhere once again bearing only a keen clean presentience of an inner voice previously unheard thus impossible to speak of in external narratives; a new voice slushing pumping ironic pellucid entropy only to give way when you enter the tranquil hours unimpaired by must be’s;  

some say self-compassion works both ways; they say it’s good to talk to invisible friends and to say i worry such a lot and know they understand and freak the same way to when they see no way out but up; but here in the lonely world there is just the hideous smell of dreamtime in the shires.  

five-line entries, four-line whips, cat o’nine nails, catacombs, catamites, catatonics–not my kind of cruise ship the SS Sadist. Still whatever floats your boat at these prices that which don’t disturb the horsiest riding rough shod over rippling waves ignore the gentle thud of slugs hitting sackbuts; tax haven never on yer nelly; eye open for the main chance mind make a run for it across the non-existent border washed by all waters;  

one finds occupation of the crease involves focussed awareness to achieve the desired outcomes  

Celtic knots do my head (think upside the box); midday shakedown, let the blood flow 

crimson rivers of chicken livers; five lie whip transgression; respect the rules to break 

them, just play the bloody game for once. Abide by unwritten rules of bleak estrangement 

Storm lashed night, thunder and lightning from the north; sunny morn. no milk delivered, 

Drawing lurid conclusions– twisted metal, milky puddles, ravaged hats distressed by blast 

no real vision to speak of; sloth unprovoked to rise in spite of prophecy. Read some myth 

for illumination. Nursing due at some stage. Shower or Scuba. Nose pegs and air freshener 

hide corruption. Standards increasingly low. Nowt gets done if you stay abed.  

End of broadside… 


Another ninety minutes that transformed a toe and brought disaster to a flawed grandmaster who 

failed to understand what was under his nose. From the frozen seas of Ross up an endless 

glazier we were aware the horses would be eventually sacrificed for some greater good 

called lunch… 


Why this need to make do? To prove a cake will rise? Curling up time in forget me knots  

Celebrating weepy time down south. Florence Rightangle squares the circle. A marmut grabs the spotlight inside a paintbox aware horses would be sacrificed under my nose while being distracted by smoke knots of dreek derangement of lettuce  

IMAGINE a handful of bitesize nuns 

grinding and eschewing smutty windowsill gunk  

Winnowy as wheat gets beat from from dusty chaff;  

a’harvesting for instant potassium me doubty lords; 

ill and non directed groups share  no such similarities;  

no such what as absolutes in such matters of incidental friction 

THE manipulation of a squashy universe of racketeers,  

eye catching bogus schemes and brutal intrigues:  

That’s Life—thats Happitalismus chapesses;  

so sundry fictive people say 

Lesbian pyrates run amuck! 

Caution passing rubber duck  

–just look the other way if you know what’s good for you;  

plenty more lying around to fill your brambled mind with;  

such as…such as…such as…  


* it is worth noting that the child whose father refused to purchase a bow wow succumbed to her injuries 

as a wallflower met a sticky end stood up too close to the warm glow of endless possibility  

grip it firmly shake it hard squeeze each last drop out grasshopper 

rigid condensed uptight desperate dabblings in matters  

outwith all known comprehension clearly aren’t your forte 


Just got light attack– aqua, tourquoise, hoodwinked moon ;  

optimistic widows admit bird chirps & freshly risen air;  

early worms give up dull ghosts & head for air conditioned dayjobs; 

DUP hold out for Juul tides, white riders & moonlit oceansides 

prearrange red handshakes in vacant dayglo barns;  

many the slip twixt cup and lip .  

Itching to get on with it. It.  

Awayday from bondage incarnate.  

Aweigh ye chocks. Aweigh wiya… 


PIGMENTS call the shots  

IN THE bOOK OF Kells:  

first dip a hairy stick in mud,  

apply it so a stippled surface,  

discover Bob’s your uncle.  

oak apples dissipate in gallotanic acid  

give us warm blacks to quaff;  

watch miniver coalesce in a squirrel’s chuff;  

insular scripture drives you nuts in the end;  

twenty layers of glaze captures skin tones for posterity 

better hang around to see what happens… 


final thoughts on the present sound very much like the first; dayshift looming large; missed first half an hour of eugenics gruppe; 


Wind up time begins; much to do today; wear fluffy slippers, sup green tea, glow


Times and dates are as valid as fog; posted the week to Henry the Blog to give the whole wide world the kind of week its been down here 

in the funny farm. Crazy horses, daffy ducks, and the rest–but to get by you gotta keep going; no use sitting back wary and frit 

The cows need a milk and the hens need a feed and for that there’s no avoiding out.  

So rain or snow out we go forth in summer as in winter. 

You just walked off, never wrote, got in touch, that was it, as if it never happened, left me here, no wonder, bit lost, up to nothing much as if you care

just sat here surfing bored shoeless 

sunday already…clocks back next week, jazz requests insist on a scat and ology split; juss writin’ lighnin’ 

–is there a law against it yet?  

Don’t give them any ideas man. they’d sell you hooves and quirt 



two days pass eventfully in an egyptan loo called Caspar Shithauser von Brexit to lower blood pressure 


break away from planet hypochondria; nice cupppatea & digestive biscuit; espy carers colluding in the street; 

patterns link together; thirty nine found dead in a container at a business park in Hayes near Horrible Harlow 

TRUTH BE never knuckled down to much 


two and a half hours up; took p/k’s, bb’s & cc’s; unburthened due to irregular stodgeness ( abounds); drew dots & lines; 

still very dark at seven; winter leap forward coming soon; death truck overkill; so much to take in; complicate all issues; no 

incursions planned; oh for a clear head! 


drifting down for liquid tea & sour dough toast and narcoleptic sleep; the thirty nine were Chinese and froze to death in a porcelain container; three months is a week in politics;  

grids & short stories filled the cranium, and cardiography, oh yes, that appointment, next week cascular–  

dirsctions of travel, screens and contrapptions, data to share etcetera, etcetera… 


The task before you  

is to take the mood of last years  

winning of the esteemed competition and tell it from a  

fresh perverted angle, let’s say wobbly omniscient for starters… 

‘Three insistent knocks distracted him, the dog went off soon after.  

He got up and saw the small white van: the opioids had made it through.’


Earlier on while watching Idol on Parade, musing on Bowie’s heroes,  

and working out when exactly the truck full of dead Chinese bought it,  

he had taken an opioid to kill the pain in his oracular toe.  

The original is a story of divorce and reconciliation, a portrait of a re-appointment,  

which wherein when the drugs took hold ended in an implausible aircrash caused by 

a wayward majenta drone, collapses in hysterics;  

Fate, predestination, and indolence hide in waiting  

all contained in a white lozenge that disintegrates in water.  

He drew the grid for a celtic knot haphazardly.  

There were no children involved in this thought esperiment.  

They had perished the night they lost it 

racing to not miss the last boat leaving. 

What did it matter now?  

There is still water under the bridge.  

Beware! Loose Chippings and 


That was the best thing she said  

So those grids and tall stories was all again. Puff. Play chess vicar relax chill out… 


Cold below, muddy paws, back door agape, six presses on the remote, does the trick. Read a partial list of the saved. My task to 

improve it. Dance time: foxtrot cum bosa nova. Read again… 

‘These things happen’, said Martha,’You are the subject. Let’s eat.’ 

A working lunch.  

What do you mean no nibbles ; no says the little man; was that the real cause. The aetiology; was it really just five pints? Fizzbuzz of issues. Higgledus Piggledus. 

Corpus of Whoppers, toad up and bleating, sheepish in a deepish way; late afters proffers full sky sunsplash (wholly hour after);  

soft city commuters meltdown; eponymous–offices, chard, gherkin, cantaloupe; smell of old man’s pissoire; Getting down to pesky modern  

brutishess; days off between engagements do slf critique; grand old opry dress rehearsals; spirit of indifference goes viral;  

fat old sun on back beats all. Quiet whisper assignation. Enjoy as long as poss. Departure lunges heave; seat of one’s pants airways goes pop;  

bumptious in Bermuda; soon find out in stir; blueberry muffin eruption…swinish purple people holding hands; inkspot revivalists launch a 


whispering cars talk behind your back; rabbit in the headlights, waving a red flag; must be summat up. Incident report, Little black bookie. 

Small change got busted. Right place; right time. Round up the usuals; chuch ’em in the cut. Leave to fester. 

World remaining out there shrank by one iota overnight,  a heroine bowed and bloodied rises, sporting a theatrical limp, rough sea rolling gait–penny for them? Make it snappy. Alligator bap, ham and mustard; 

no open fire prepared, little black mark against; having a haircut , sloe gin coming. All about sleaze. Dark unberbellies. The Loon of Gloom–available for hire, 

devastate your friends; no money back guarantee, Sign along the dittoed loan. £ 5/7d old money. A Ploughman exits. Coprophagia.  

Blue malachite takes the bickies. Food & Drink…the later works of Charles Kingsley. Ballantyne’s Coral Island Westward hoocus pocus. 

Letting off stemmers…will you ever? High wind in Jamaica. Fairly blows your coconuts free of moorhens. Down on poverty farm.  

Sucking on a sand eel: a sign, I tell you. Mo Robinson turned up the radio to drown the screaming coming from the ashtry.  

Twenty guards go howhere these days. Fool’s game. Quit. Easier done than said. Pnuemoconiosis. Blue scar highbrow, 

inflicted by a rum set puncheon. Whole village turned out. Orders from the Gaffer. 

A long way from the Titanic to here. Time I ask you. Why then smack the elephant? Is there one in the room? If noy why not say. 

In a swamp you drown exceeding slow. How loud can you scream? So many hypotheticals make for a seige mentality. Too scared to go out 

to vote. You will get stabbed on cctv. 

succumbed to brownies after curry; fell foul of a spartan diet of bauhaus pharmaceuticals on wry 


Observe four milk bottles; an open window; smell of rashers; water running; think i disappeared 

This october is…muddled/ mud led… 


 fruit tree fell flat on the path overnight, Sis. 

 What’s worse is the clipper needs a flint 

the hog has got a limp and they’re showing Colonel Blimp again– 

think I made a good move there, Sis 

Building up defences. barriers against incoming assaults, oncoming insults…  


Rambling yanks selling themselves, haggling, hassling, making it happen get you  

edible cities, orwellian flaneurs kick up little fuss, wallowing in transience, the real 

estates on power thrive within, switching off your phone helps, a foot in the door 

every time you look at it, the hustling 


England beat they All Blacks fair and square 

Yoga Granma pops her clogs aged ninety five 

I got a girlfriend whose paler than that 

in a certain light. People like clever rudeness 

it sells, shifts product, makes life worth it…unbearable 


all that dross to watch on the box 

just aint got time for that 

fretting wrecked pursued 

wracked by doubtful bladder 

making blood from madder 

pigment well no matter what they tell ya 

limped over four hundred before the big picture started– The Boyz from Brazil if you must know 

twenty three a time on average; things change when the little orange kite appears 

luck of the typing error; randon chance meets strangers talking shop; never call 

them twitcherism people who vibrate a lot or you will get a well deserved cudgelling 

for you troubles 

Is that any way to talk to the leader of the free world? 

Gruffalo Gals slough round and subside in sunlight  

coronated silhouettes; Coltrane’s joy de vivre plays  

a love supreme parts one and two banished for being boring… 

not that I claim to be a barrel of laughs just now 

scratching round for a gentle inn to get out off on 

Perhaps a long deep breath of fresh will turn a leaf to grass 

out of the blue  


flyer in the hallway flops,  


squalid mop and bucket affair,  


a golden sunset lurks,  

burnt okra radio silence  

maintained throughout proceedings  

This chink went on nigh an hour 

a tranquil afternoon in a rustic shire,  


window left wide open  

to catch the waft of pizza dough,  

not a hint of breeze  to pour scorn on,  

the venerable old guttersnipe opposite got taken  

away by big yellow rickshaw this morning.  

She had looked fine to me last Tuesday  

when i found out my heart was on the blink 


Dark news at five thirty;  

now that lie in feels a cheat;  

no dinner round;  

could lose a few pounds i suppose;  

less to carry out 

less trouble for all involved;  

nearly said concerned. that would have been  

presumptious of me. 

weasel words and upfront rhymes  

sip sups of sea and blow your mind 


Called Minnie, sexchanged horror stories, fleshed bone and bled out for punic consumption. She sounded bonny. It’s gone eleven and the day is furtive– like docile tabby cats 

Parcel arrives by zero hours human drone… 

fresh lung in a foreign tongue; chess plummets apace,  

need to press on elsewhere (shake a leg, stir a dreg, fry an egg…) 

Applause, sincerely long applause,  

marks a pause between moments,  

in this rarely gripping performance of something 

or other by Liszt fom the uncomfortably reupholstered  

pews of the Fairfield Halls in Croydon.  

Up far too early, three or four depending on your leanings;  

man dies like song in desert 

;  Radio silence prevails: car revs, door slams, gate hasp rattles. bronchial gasp, heating goes on, light fades to white spot… 

this aint workin’… (now you tell me!)

all day wandrin’ 

chasin’paddy wagons;  

moats and dragons 

Date rope adjudication;  

le living on the march I see;  

a cook’s tour of brain softened cities;  

keep it coming 

bring it off Hoss


Rage always follows minor upsets;  

Grenfell ghosts & crusty dredd;  

all falls yet nothing falls,  

all is permitted so 

nothing is admitted 

ecumenical with the truth 

on this your election day…English Bob 

Tamara Tapioca Tacita Dean Dream…radio face; cinema mind–funny by gaslight; smoke filled tombs; 

lusting nicotine; gotta give her up; tobacco model; reflective twist of pleasure; swept up outsides, twelve steps 

here twelve steps there–it soo adds up over the day. What were you getting at. Stop smoking walk more breath deep 

use you wits wise up save money move on… 


Banjaxxed House of Atreus, a long line of horribles, black pudding eaters indulgants of the long pig, supping sweet mead from a black ram’s  

norm of plenty, abandoned land off Elis island, a place where squid and teapots thrive, bartered for a hen’s tooth by a passing fury,  

ground zero on which to build unreal estates, 

from which to go out and multiplex, little island hoppers launch campaigns to rid the world of ogres. lycanthropes and  

foibles of the weird after watching Harry Potter and the Lughole of Wax… 

Sunset of Halloween, Number Thirteen in full raven glory. make sure we got goodies, or forfeit conceit… 


Breakfast with Boris sent me reeling in the dark; marginalised, off the page, rain swipes; showered it later, toe looking rough, 

hospitals are for heroes with death wishes; back to bed, back to reality; rain drives, night falls, at chess I lose, listening to a 

plaintive Diane portrayed by Chet. Want out of it. Want into it. Just don’t want it just now. An inconvenient moment for hope. 

Antigone nicked for traffic violation. A partidge falls from Daedulus Towers. The culprit flees to Crete. 

Why so low? Did not go and face the musak of humming dumbing gadgets, the percussion of arythmic heatrbeat, the humiliation 

of underground car parks. Will I live to regret forever? Self compassion aint my stock in trade. Empathy is for others  

more deserving than I. Sacrificial limbs poke out of the glassy fish pond, above the mesh is awash with redwings, the is wholesome  

muesli over priced. Learn to forget forgivingly.  


England out classed on misjudgement day, on the wrong end of a whupping. Late to arrive at the match could have played a part, Huge writes baloney

poor chess spawns anger & rage,  inner mountain inflamed requires quenching or air to fan the fire; do nowt weekends are killers; 

sullen zilch predates oneness… 

events unspeakable: childhood scripts, teenage heroines, unsympathetic caricatures, milk of human kindness soon turns sour

goes off in the sunsplash optimism of good times round the corona; joycey wordsplurge auto scroodles reveal slips of tongue and groove; 

look for a hanger on to besmirch; smarty pantisockracy; he who rools the roost makes the weather wince; the purpose of this visit–bad night greets

aftermath, open the doors and windows wide, receive inquisitors at love towers; sweet love of pure rapids over running cataracts. 

Tearose Leaves

once just like 
once just like you
I was a tearose leaf

January Sunday

pushing all the wrong buttons uncovering the found rhyme

correcting unsightly tyros

How quick we are

forgotten when we’re gone

as if it never mattered


I was a

January Sunday

pushing all the wrong buttons

uncovering the found rhyme

correcting unsightly tyros
How quick we are
forgotten when we're gone
as if it never mattered
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