to cry over:
traffic and bollard,
pothole and hedgehog,
flood and folly. All delay delivery.
Try your best without.
make and mend,
a stitch in time,
to cry over:
traffic and bollard,
pothole and hedgehog,
flood and folly. All delay delivery.
Try your best without.
make and mend,
a stitch in time,
upon the streaming air
exhaled by Ogma Sun face
plain as a brass pike staff in yer face
see the boss aint got no dainty threads on
bare arsed as a new born twerp shouting orders
to court assasins in boreal greek and latticed latin
burbling on in unknown tongues lip dancing codeine potions
compelling inebriate states to poach small town chickenshacks
Mauve tuesday is a rum day,
a bin day, a drab day
a humdrum day
laden down cumbersome
by protocol and melancholia
thus it must
commence with an immodest nosebleed
or a writhing mit of pitted prunes
it simply is not worth its salt
wanderers returned from the huzun night
find it irresistible
Musk demilight– aqua, orchid, tourquoise,
bent over hoodwinked by a flighty moon
reach out to open optimistic windows
admit dunnock chirps & sample crisp ballooning air;
early worms watch dullard ghosts bow out
to head for air conditioned hulks;
silverfish hold out for frigid Juul tides,
white riders & twilit oceansides beg
time out for prearranged red handshakes
in vacant dayglo barns;
many is the slip twixt cup and lip
impatient to get on with it.
It! That meretricious pip.
May had its seventeenth today,
shrunk glorious summer down
to cheap sausage pork,
and in its putrid air a natal
rain exposed a summer still born,
A maid unaware craved its drains to roam,
its culverts to clog―
Saw red rain fell over the temple,
Developed an inability to spit,
And bore witness to a teal sky
Crowded out with bluebirds.
Omens abound like cliches come sweet dusk.
A shootist lazily rakes the gallery
A spotty little herbert called Anomie
Made to menace Venice
Jeopardised the tennis
Liberté, égalité, Débilité –
Close to tears on rising:
an invisible hornet bugs you
you open a velvet blind
What is it that chastises?
Is it a far off chainsaw?
Wash the scuff away
Regret another curfew day
Showered down thorough.
Spent time writing proper.
Fucked it up. Corrected. It worked!
All of this comes to you thanks to a power shower
I stood on one leg blindfold intoning
‘I don’t wanna know her’,
a little keyhole waltz if you will
recounting old times in the Ozarks
Cussing our imaginary friend Zillard.
The lies flow outrageously as spring flood water…
a hot scrub is the prelude to a crisp neo-write supremacy:
A thousand tweets a day and soon you’re washed away.
Like a one legged Willy Lomax, a legend in his own body waste,
wisecracking as he vaporises in a steamy void
Begin over with the goat stew she left out on the table
The cord flex dangling idly in the cavernous hall
The fabulous smell of oily tuna permeates the bamboo wall
Losing a grip of the catchy word makes you chippy
flitting like a teasing fly
The mocking phrase that slights the cliche
Line by line the words drip dry.
Sure now this is nowhere you’re free.
Dewar saw the fear, read the cower, laughed.
His capricious myrmidons looked the other way.
The bush was sharp, dew damp and dirt dusty.
He jumped before he was felled.
The wounds were evidently self-inflicted.
He makes a habit of this.
Control was all.
‘He’s mad alright’ said Dewar
‘Told you‘ said Trimble.
They melt back in the playtime throng.
Parr helped him out of the bush.
The legs are scratched deep and bleeding.
Why? Contrition is the wetter part of valour.
The big yellow streak dilates.
Might is always right in the name of Peace.
Spring comes slowly up
pissing about to the echo of a toothless mastiff chewing
onea rock with a fiddle, singing of the abducted.
plonked awkward on a mute piebald palfrey
Endured cross stitch ups and venal stings,
incursive pine needles and lupins,
divisive thimbles and tumbrils,
concluded justice must be obscene to be undone
that finger food sucks at Funky Fiona’s,
regretted the futile fracas in Franco’s Head Shop,
and, at the heel of the hunt,
repeeled a grape for Delilah–
Yes the bummer’s done.
Now sat here the huge jukebox
affecting a timid demeanour
behind purple drapes
we, with blunted needles and bent pins,
darn socks for Sontag.
Entropy ain’t what it was
In the chokey oakum days
The greazy gabardine mack days
The sad brown paper bag days
The dainty doris day days
we were young at heart then
pistol whipping work horses
who toiled in broke up city streets
Hawking stucco frontispieces & smiley culture vulture daubs
You deny that people called Duck did once exist?
An oxygen experience is tough enough to get over.
Personally, I gained fuck all that I want in life no worries.
I am perfectly content in mind and bodybag
Indeed all the tension drops from my body
lukewarm and utterly butterly,
It’s as if I were sitting beside a friendly fire,
Well wrapped up in a crinkly blanket,
rocking gently back and forth.
Communication is unpleasant and unnecessary
Under the influence of oxygen,
You soon see no companionship at all is best
I accept myself and the world just as we are, separate
Wet coal tipples blanket bluffs,
Rusted out coal tipples
blanket breezy bluffs
Twisted track curls up
gnarly knotted toes
Industry was here
Once below a time
Declared unfit by Kilroy & Cadwallader
Penicillin Road drops steep
cuts and bores
through sheer bare escarpments & stark granite defiles,
surges frothing fizzes over roadside boulders
churns up windblown chaff and docile dross
Befor it slows meanders and morphs
into torpid oxbow kidneys and verdant flood plain gallops
Some nights while still sounding thunderous
it prances fast through otiose viscous varicose arteries and drives insane men’s veins
through canny chicanes
scorning litigious bunions & seedy rundown canyons of doubt
eagerly cresting on horizon tendons it defies proud ligaments,
mocks cists & melts stubborn pockmarks and rueful cataracts
and spills into the ulcerated sea off Old Toe Head
where swathed in crinkly lint chinked amber pulses
itoscillates lit up by strobing lunar beats
Shoe sized egomaniacal
west ham actors &
two bit part harp players
& sundry stray intrusive
sporty parties snarl & bicker
disgorging muckbill platitudes
to puggled flustered
rashly squeezed bone
girdled gossip mongers
hawking meagre humble wares
The morning after the dud who faked sincerity
got shunned by rank indifferents of all races, creeds and colour theorists…
lightspilt first up back of four
just as Saul found out
why the lucid coast
of duvet moans in jest
= Effluenza or Influenza?
Who cares much these days
Pass over the capsule and be an Angela, my sweet.
Broken News from Dawn Patrol announces…
Windows of opportunity get three thumbs up should Halloween pass without unsavoury eruptions
Second waves pronounced the new first moon by turd party arsonists
sampling tea leaves humping hope to an amen beat the
last chance balloon leaves come dawn on this vernal equinox
Ethics in AI gets bunk up from fretful plutocrats with more money than funny.
Glass and concrete truth domes full of ratfinks tremble
Peasant slaughtered by boy racer
stooges a monarch in a Star & Garter Gig.
The town of Richmond mourns behind closed minds
Ten finger professionals occupy space
set aside for cheetahs lost in transit.
Stare out these days through shopfronts
displayed on handheld flymo gizmos.
All shapes and sizes filed under laudable applaudables.
Feasible exercisers say strain not yet no sinew.
Spineless fatigue pandemic supine sighs.
Vagrant anchovy is upset that the mule abjures.
Profligate cartwheels & takes rap for cold cold snap.
Sidelined on the margin: peripheral & subliminal.
If this is true~ if so what follows…Huh?
Well shod gunshot rider racer
royally glides roughshod over
an enfeebled citizenry in broad daylight
impression of crass snobbery
Third June Thursdays don’t get much longer in the short run
Search engines rise with suns to take you down you guessed it:
Secrete a bloom bury it deep in forget me knots…twas Midsommer Day she sent ashtray…
too near to something hot. Hot like mercury…
Slipshod ellipses. Pulling and Squeezing.
Falling yet not falling yet.
Turning yet not spinning
Ear fluids sloshing sloshily.
Smell of sweet pine.
Drizzling wild honey.
Lingers on licky fingers
Last days on earth. Pungent like liquorice…
Dad’s Army and psycho dramaturgy,
Cadmus family values rule KO
down at Thebes by the Sea.
Cast off thousands
Bear their teeth.
Laughter releases no fun juggler:
Watertight alibis spring no leeks
& sink like stones
but butter no parsnips
Muddle muddles through mind
Cassini pulls it off like Daisy
Days start up sluggish smooth
listen out hard to silence golden
struggling to swallow Penicillin
before the capsule melts in bitter toxin
Go eat something quick before singe
Heavy ordnance stems the onslaught
The moon grows big over Medina
Quiet whistlers kicking sticks down windy lanes
Dawn rain sprinkles dust
Brambles break out of a livid hedgerow
Something small in there is Movement
roused by scent of Danger
keens it the hungry eye?
Probably a rat according to What The papers say.
Who the hell is Wallace Bronson?
His name’s all over town these days. I hear them big him up. I hear them put him down. Perhaps a craze that came and went. Grabbed an hour dreamt of warm embraces
By the jolly neck old chap.
An entire dramatic action complete unto itself plays out.
Heard Wallace later utter
scutter thick as butter
as nearby thickly knitted people talk creative ambiguities purr
Bigging up ticklish solutions tripping out on funny money
camped out overnight on sodden cloud cuckoo landscapes
Party party party time–
scuffed up leather horsehair stuffing entrails;
bouncing up and down
Being naughty Backseat Sunday of a Morris Oxford under blurred high hedges
low trees rain drips water splash ‘Watch Out for that Unicorn!’
Blue serge suited chubby mammy’s boy down potholed back roads boasts to blackberry ramblers
in see through macks ‘Gulp cool smell of cowshit honeysuckle’
Crows claw fat green leaves
water blobs erupt dog roses
Polished brogues flashing matching socks
handkerchief sporting little gentilhomme
scrams knee go fetch Dettol and dabbing cloth
Bathe it pink till stop sobbing dry pats
Blow softens ouch its stingy cotton settle down beige flesh stickplaster
Finished as if applause follows that little performance
threw a fugue fandango now cards strewn pell mell on parquet floor rug
ruined when fur flew past Spree of exasp…desper…constern…
Bleargh splat yucca hahahaha…wash hands swift job done wait in purdah taube.
What awaits two guilty buddhas Sat glum cross legged on the whipping mat? Caught fighting over emberscraps. Saucysnaps, Easy policeman ticking off did not goog the nups marked earclip. No slipper beatings ever did so. Petit crims entertain mad whims.
Parrot learners think on it or else.
Fastest omelette west of the Quantocks, some claim Sideshow Slobbo warm ups for the main event primarily to Cause a stir. Take the floor. Do a turn. Fry. Self immolation. Make a memorable memory . Eventful everlasting daydream. Ends in tears. Where’s he gone this time? Pff. Declined the invite . To act like I am a goat. Not the scene. Made excuses curt and left via dockland drain. Let off a steamer at St Malo. Burn it up. Ends in tears. Where else? A Scrambled Shambles? Seen later Down and dirty in the Dog and Duck making quavers last all night oak log fireglow damp socks steaming Catch an eye nod snarl grimace smile of visog recog. Same or similar plight. Stages of alight Depth charge and fat warhead cure.
Brace yourself for Skegness by the Sea. Cornish riviera dip. Dipping crooked toesies. Roll ups. Just like Xenophon. Full of importance when no one is Taking notes. Ten a penny eyebrows. Pencil in moustachio. Pocket Dirty Postcard sly crowd Sneaking peeps as Gertie sorts her girdles. Giant rubber diva gives out full blast. Empurpled by whelk frenzy. Getting sweet on. Hats flew up. Wind blows up the corridor & Up comes Pavarotti. Oily smooth snake charmer. Bedknob manner writ all over. Sleep the last thing on his.
‘Don’t the wind blow up the passage, Mrs Bulbous!’…’Away now with yer sauce’… Fun & games. Sigh like Clifton Webb on hemp. Fresh Fish soon goes off. Black Eye.
Cuckoo Waltz to Fin.
Roho man barges in unmolested by Torwart who given to flinches…
Who wants a Brownie pointf. Pofte ‘Crved Hairdo’ Draft One (A Manifefti). Commentatorf acknowledge
A refemblement to Fji’f Wok in paffing merrily on their way. Pfffed Off Altogether. Weftward Huff!*
But what? Say what? What of? Furtive fifteen minnows flounder
frekled flambuoyant flanneur reflects on ephemera in a Sin Shop window. Fiddlesticks & Fu Manchu .
Hickey’s Hockey Sticks. Fallopian Tuba ompahs Aatomata rattle gaudy boxes
Comenotye hither smiles the little drumstick.
Dirty thoughts charade. Penny for. Pinafore. Petticoat.
Philanderers and Swann- Hunter.
Burgess & McClean breast pocket.
Gilbert O’Sillivan. Ethelred’s Outsize Outfitters shrinks.
King Kong of Marvin Hagler Gardens. Hennesey Hiccups.
Hearn’s Hooha handwash. Nefertiti bugles most brunchtimes.
Maple Syrup syllables go viral. Slighly slurry Senora spouts.
Teeth must have ulterior motives. Chattering classes ticking boxes.
Upper set affixed with creamcheese. Round the bend lost wristwatch scowls.
Sleeve strolled up deep breath and plunge humourous. Ignominy sancti. Next to cuddliness.
Gawblimeyness but bawdier. A Knight at the Opera remembers Penicillin Rd
Chiropractors rule under
unknown worlds of boney calcite gristle–
‘We take you to bits but do not know how to
put you back together’ they declare
damming misdirecting truncating spurning subjecting —
consider a topography of tubes and screens
draining into olive kidney dishes,
ox bow crimson lakelets,
and opaque epidural highland tarns.
hear up echoes resound to hollow vessels
mimic the clunk of dropping spanners;
observe soft rivets tremble at the thought;
contemplate the fighting Tamarare tugboat straining
its chrome yellow hawsers.
Gravesend is all lit up for monkey business.
elsewherea pink mist of locusts
flock remorseless as wallpaper
part to reveal the true Kilimanjaro
bypassed by a Hemingway flyover
while those nearby nose dive into soft sage bush
Stratus shall get the gutter work if they want
when the bleeding chaffinch stops
leaving an indelible mark
that vanishes without trace
beneath the red mudddied third mind’s eye
After the hiatus of the iron gutter,
the tumult of the bamboo jungle.
as the rains and plagues return
you find yourself eighty pounds lighter–
sooner or later you will weigh nothing at all:
Only then the problem will be solved
when an awkward comet promises too much
just as a gold digger in the crispened snow
of a teeming desert island called Roy expires
Adventures in the Scone Trade
did not fulfill your expectations
then as ever you were duped,
seen and taken for a mug
by sly slick master bakers
who offend the morals of the skunk.
Three years later you walked back in
and gave me five more children to rear
on a piano teacher’s laughable salary