John Wesley Harding

Oil! over by there
(never whisper, never breathe, keep mum)
sound of crispy sacred boots
scrims, crunch, scrimmage, nowt words
in hushed echoes yell
'over there behind the ball park
sheltered by seaside
Atlantic City and beyond
waiting sadly remorseless
for supremacy'
comes a gentle hush
into the night a wild 
nightingale infers:
unkissed eyelids smart


Iron Mire

Yes, by gum, nearly one o’clockery Greenwich Moan Time, wailing women weep in weeds, broken, nailed up and bleeding miscreants squirm like elvers
Gruff pallbearers of no good tidings wheeze
Gallivanting clover rockery

Loitering near railway sidings, wheeltapping rolling stock, grunting and shunting, mumbling over steaming mugs of creosote
Pottering about in the stoical pottery
licking and deriding Toby Jugs

Thowing pots resembling crockery at passers-by gathered round the glowing brazier, spouting bigotry and salacious tales of crochet mishaps
Awesome albatross gliding crow low
twigs subjected to sable mockery

Blinds drawn by agued oxen of the sun: too lazy to go to bed, grazing unmanicured lawns for toe and nail clippings and chili con carne droppings
Mice to see you to see you mice: three
Horsemen of the Apocalypse: four…


Cold Warmonger Blues

Will it be a cold winter?
They have been so mild and wet
must be due one soon
future fears increase
when running out of future
to look forward to
theatre unclear war
coming sooner than you think
cinema before your eyes


%d bloggers like this: