Ode to a Lincolnshire Sausage
Such wondrous feasting!
make intransigence
give way to transformation
ghostly dead grey days dissemble
autonomous motion pictures
inanimate manikins
submit to buff lamination
& stringent English Mustard
Grimbeau
Scroodles
Category: Wireless
December 12, 2016
December 11, 2016
The Invisible Sixth
Traffic trumps ethics clucks…read a bit, listening to gnomes & druids
Swaggering clouds puff dragon’s teethy briar pipes…
Milton in fetters, Blake O’Blumenthal.
Blake’n’Pinball—Marriage of Heaven and Hell
All time top score!
Mummblings inner cavernous sports hall near Hemel Hempstead
Mystical masterpieces…and why knitty-knot?
Kind hearted adult rage
Incandescently
Go follow your bliss—mental composer!
Clay, Eveline…who are you kidding, Bud?
Lazy putz, busking it, busking it sloppily
It is not writing, is it?
Just not as we know it, Radar
Smoked salmon rags,
house radish sauce &
flash green brain salad sandwich
scourge my philistine god
Afternoon preoccupied
Chewing on it
Repenting at leisure—
In the belly of the fish
Monsters! All shapes & sizes
Variety of small grain boxes
‘what d’you want today?’
The invisible sixth one
December 11, 2016
Hip-Hop
Wobbly pins today
Whacked out all night wall walker
Putting on sea legs
Walk like an Egyptian
Provides chronic ironic
Cerebral mantra
lends rhymer rhythm
on icy towpaths
December 9, 2016
Timbuktu
poetry
is
an
absorbing
way to
carry on
…
a
frustrating
palaver
at
the best
of times
…
pecu
liar
ly
enjoy
ab
le
…
mi
asmic
put
res
cence
…
stag
nant pool
quint
essence
ally
…
like
omni
buses
it
takes you
places
…
some
quite
odd
like
Timbuktu
December 7, 2016
…two doors down
red cross parcel weird ripped
Open by calm alacrity
Strident cumulus
Any colour you pick out twice
Peculiar paint box bollard
(at this juncture-named red house—
You know the old barns?)
Straw broke tallow willow
Sceptred broken leather clasp
Strange Misericord
makes definition
stop making sense by
form without we breathe
December 6, 2016
”the who…?-
What bliss awaits me below?
Something hot & spicy
Most probably not
You’re really struggling
Hey-ho dontya know the cats
Seethe despair differently
Mucal chissled grins
Hang hissing round the door
Most insistently
They beg for essence:
Ignored children shout a lot
December 5, 2016
Trial by Ordeal
Love trains leave by night
How swift desire passes
in this Wistful age of steam
Ecstasy clouds good judgement
All’s unfair in love
We are all war Criminals
Awaiting trial by peer
Group hysteria
Tread wary hunted Minotaur
Now standing on Platform Four
A seagull bound to tell lies
Omniscient eye seas lullaby
December 4, 2016
hooded peregrine
sleazy keyboard,
diligently counting syllables,
keen hidden gleanings,
scatter chipped prune stones,
reminiscences…
behaviourally disturbed rook
that mistook
all night pharmacy
for a sweetie shop
December 2, 2016
Mahlzeit!!
Eleven bellows
cogitate thirty eons
of time that never was, is,
or ever will this day forth:
More coffee and quanta, my Duck?
Und warum nicht, my Leda?
December 1, 2016
Toe & Froe
Back again at just gone ten
after a power breakfast
with Mr Clay, Ms Self, and the Demi-urge.
A frozen garden, a propped
up green wheelbarrow glued
to an icy rotary clothes line.
Frost suspends decay of jungle beanplants.
What else did you see?
Or hear? Or taste? Or touch? Or smell?
Fields in collision, tectonic plates lying shattered,
or just another trad night down the Greeks.
I see.
So thought Inspector Spangle, flicking through
the photos from scenes of crime:
no time, no space, just action
invisible, eternal delight,
energy in a bun dance.
What could be less clear than that?
Yea, housing, phone calls, Victoria Derbyshire…
I know, I know, I know. Stop nagging me!
It’s all work in progress.
