Self, self, self…
I’m
Waiting for my lunch
I’m
Waiting for my lunch
Went in the kitchen
At twelve of five
Marinade the fish
Chopped up the chives
Like Lilian Gish
I’m
Waiting for my lunch
Move it on!
I’m
Waiting for my lunch
I’m
Waiting for my lunch
Went in the kitchen
At twelve of five
Marinade the fish
Chopped up the chives
Like Lilian Gish
I’m
Waiting for my lunch
Move it on!
That was a big one!
Said the lungfish to the lung
twitching on the floor
Twelph-thurty summat
Finds Us
Rocking away on various
Salad leaves, rocket, chive, spindle,
giant salmon tickled pink
Small Jonah Codd,
and a good shurp of
Dial-a-Lie-Schmoliticks.
Sure
The Brother will sort it out,
I’m as sure as eggs is eggs.
Time for wine & shut windows.
The airing of the stench is done.
Were you made aware
Stale air oxidises in mist?
Much like cobwebs &
everything else that springs
to mind at this wild juncture
On an airplane
Jefferson
craving Somebody to Love
Unilaterally
Declared Independence
& filed for divorce
Citing licentiousness
Marty Balin & Grace Slick
Took purple berries
Before disembarkation
The missing fusilier
Found in barrel metal
Forensic analysis
reveals went by the name of
Dudley Ballistic
Night never rose today
Seal grey fog stayed leaden stable.
No substance makes no shadow.
Dank medieval fenland
Hereward awoke querulous
looked out and went back to bed.
All was wail and screech in the marsh,
water-coloured pitch dispersed
left smudges on green mantles
invisible coded inkstains
lit by enfeebled
disconsolate torch fires
floodlit groaning Ely
hill fort candlemas
*
Obese prose gets up my nose.
Tired mired strife.
Ilex waxes lyrical.
Auric mistletoe glisters.
Golden branches hang heavy
sporting strange distended fruit.
The crooked bishop dangles.
A burdensome encumbrance
takes his final bough
opaque gelid mist
dead souls stumble homeward bound
old grey thistle vest
The last man in space
double locked the shuttlecock
in case of burglars
looked up dreamily
blew farewell kisses to the
cerulean canopy
Sudden catharsis
Rooted to the spot
Catatonic subverters
Absent sense of direction
Can’t find my way out
Trial an error live and learn
Back to the drawing board
Fresh pens & pencils
Kitchen utensils
The galley slave goes to it
Cooking up a storm