Category: blogging

Eat the Ditch




one scotch egg

& one pack of

Ready Salted

Crisp Potatoes

Al Disco…

Dunnock patrol sweeps
up the lawn prior to snotty
entrance of the Queen of Shebang

Gormless positivity crowds threw some punters out
Embedded Jasper stones in troubled foreheads
—As if brecciated third eyes squint

Mineral deficiency remedy mercifully
Fizzes in blue silica
Uncle of the bride makes wind of it

A virtuous thermal is suchly born
Magic lurks in fits and starts you see
Fragile as dovecote earrings percieved by

Pageboys scatter ricicles on tympani thrums
Jerry built his house for doom and duplicity
Here loud mother superior stalks our bogus moves

Here also Stock Doves henpeck petrified garden gnome ads
but then it is Wednesday
after all is said: undone your fly
blue murder is an optional eXtra
vaguer notions involve plenty steps
mississippi mud pies promise
sanguinity & toast ungainly
underwater table tennis
constitutes just one ding that springs to mind
also: must mend t h a ts l o w puncture
synchronized slumming it merely
keeps the blighters off the streets
after a feed of pilates & fries
giant fleas and mice of the Caribbean
Prance in light elastic pumps & daisies
or bristle a frisson with shaven ravens
tipping away at venality between long wet slogs
through warm soft mulchy tissue
then we all fall round gurgling
gambolling precociously jammed with
lamb’s toothy daughter—nun other thanks
Caroline of Brunswick
Who brazen breaks into a piggy bank
& scoffs the Hottentot of it
Up shat creak without a Piddle
Wherein which we whet the wall
A chemical imbalance
In the Fred Astaire’s of men
My Lord is a ram jam toerag
Supinating pimply puss pot
Leaving droppings on the pantry floor

Twilight Pops


Marjorie Lawrence 12 June 1939

Gotterdammerung opens!

The end of the world as they know it.

This afternoon my unquenchable thirst

is accompanied by a mind made of puppy fur

There is energy, but it is all over the place,

thin and wayward, dry and soggy, like those ill

-kempt meadows or ruffled lawns. Making meadows is

no laughing matter: neither is the end

of the world, no matter whose






A funny thing happened the other day, but I missed it.
Troy fell again

it appears
It barely got a mention
With all that was going on
Round here
What with the weather changing

The permanent fishy smell
The limping gormless misfit

As a ballerina in transition
from one side to other there is one question
I get asked above all others
And that is
‘Have you met with much resistance?

I can say hand on heart
‘Little’ without fearful contradiction
But I care not a jot in my summer frock
Running amok
fetching Apricock

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


serial blogger  
for crimes against humanity 
salary negotiable 
inflexible hours

Emma Euphoria

Emma stood blank in half-eight demi-light thinking causes for one shit up & two shits below: stale toast, ancient Camembert, fatty olives, decaying salad, egg & chips, late night salmon, oily roast root vegetables, midsummer nectarine, squashy pears, rich cream cheesecake, bottle of white wine, after eight mints, dirty glasses, yes, dirty glasses…

Dirty bedclothes full of stale flu-sweat, skin flakes, dandruff, and smokey house dust

Sink full of dirty dishes, greasy black hob, sticky fingers, slimy forboding corners, swampy miasma, fairy lights hanging from the dogroses.

Handel’s Water music strutted on the wireless. Which came first, thought Emma, the water or the fireworks? Was it linear or circular? Either way it was always the same old Handel. How very reassuring. Not.

The last two weeks had oozed bad news.

Radio daze…

No post or  calls? Not yet. Have a think. Check your incoming. Read about writing. Perhaps more radio. Tidy the kitchen. Why me? I’m a cripple. A raspberry ripple. Wheelchair Bound. Simon and Garfunkel.
A sudden burst, a rat-ta-tat, six minutes at least it lasts. Nothing moves but these twisted fingers on the keyboard. A radio monologue describes an airport encounter. John Mortimer.
Namedropper, that’s what I’ll call it. namedropper. James Joyce Carol Oates.
A Friday in October.
Sounds awesome.
nearly gave in there. The urge to blog. SOS to the world #3064…fills the time & I like it. quiet. Just the radio. Me & the Radio. The wireless. The Other Girl by John Mortimer, that’s what it was. Calls? Check for incoming. Clean up. Put the kettle on. Polly.

Foodless and fancy food means cook sausages—will it be with chips?
Afternoon dawns grey mass dormant air leaves dampen droop slump
Weather report done.
H-bomb calls about F-bomb. Emmer Greensward, Reading. The long haul begins. Chips or the full Monteverdi? Tough call, tough, tough calll…
—Trim your beard, you slob
—In the fullness of thyme, Master. The fullness of thyme.
Get out some haddock to deforest. Is this a hangover or just bog standard gastro-enteritis? No fried eggs, no chips. Green salad, Tabasco, shallots, spinach…


Less for Murder


post-traumatic stress

disorder after reading


& occasional diamonds

waiting four years omnibusk

To Your Health



People that

Live in


Houses ought

Not throw


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Start the Week Again



Start the week

with a ban on refined sugar

opened the honey

moving slower already

somewhere somethings wrong

not done any work

of a practical nature

never make appointments you

know that you don’t keep

how can you make some headway

where do you begin?

Most Wanton

gorgeous george


Georgie Gargoyle sneers

leers drools pours derision

raining scorn upon

the weak, sick, old, cold,


all the living and the dead

cruel salacious scabious

snooty pogrommer

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