Manners Maketh Man

Burnt offerings for the dog.

Still scrapless after all those ears.

Scavenged some roasted remnants.

There’s beans & fish ready to go.

Where’s the promised salad?

East of Neasden.

Abnormal service is exhumed.


Ate salmon, herbs, spuds, and runners.

Kitchen utilities roar as afternoon arrives:

‘Good Afternoon!’, it says

Still deep in morning,

I yawned a knowing smile,

returned a nod of greeting,

while slyly raising a hand

to hide the unswallowed fish head

I was sucking on.


Afternoon stayed for a coffee and left

to finish the rounds

in time for evensong.

Endless Freeways

Take the scenic route

off the beaten track

the path less trodden

which way wherever

hang a left at the gibbet

& carry on rolling up

the road into one

neat spiral cylinder

ready for oncoming

vagabonds & traffickers

gormless stranded waysiders

gawping  as  I ride on by


Swept threadbare flimsy

Flakey faded Nepalese

Hand woven carpet

Once bold vibrant crimson

Scuffed trampled bare by

Indwellers interlopers

Casual and meaningful

Professional rucks

Transgressional muck

Careless and caring acquaintances

Dogs living and dead

Occasional wayward chooks

Cops, yobs, swabs, blobs, mobs

Tawdry transcendent

Embedded ephemera

windblown through the door

%d bloggers like this: