Keep Out! Privet Property




Crippled Brits seek exile in Berlin Alexanderplatz
First world third world slipway lowers
Ulster beseiged by ghoulish superflowers
Post American mercators draw up road maps & bridges

bellicose chartists split up
inner world found durable
weak Lorenzo weeps abundantly
over lost integrity
carbon free footwear found
unavailable on spec

hands and arms open pills while
the London Review of Books turns turtles
overnight while spiderwebs
dipped in liquid nitro stop slugs

Ailing muse gone walkies
down the labyrinths of Tyre
Repairs and ultimata
hang loose on the punic air

Boat Train to St Malo



No urine today
No shit to swallow
Just lollop round
Chew cud ponder callow
No way to behave
On an indigent hip
Snooze on a marshmallow
Boat train to St Malo




Sat inside the morning moonlight
Digesting yogurt honey banana grape granola
Off the Bristol stools chart

There is a trap set down memory lane
Especially designed for rogue elephants
Inclined to silly pop songs

The Big Trailer



Got underway yesterday with a pill.
Every day starts with a pill.
A pill and a coffee.
Then it begins.
The wide open vistas
on the Oregon trail
with an irascible Raoul Walsh
screaming blue murder at an empty horse
Overhead beyond the redwood canopy
an eagle soars majestic.
You could
not make it up…
Oh yeah?

Yield Loose Chippings

A hedge of trees surrounds me: a blackbird’s lay sings to me –
praise which I will not hide –
above my booklet the lined
one the trilling of the birds sings to me.
In the grey mantle of the beautiful chant
sings to me from the top of the bushes:
may the Lord protect me from Doom.
I write under the greenwood’.

Day of arrangements comes round quick:
ecg. dazzlertron trials. q & a penury…
all in good time grandmaster
decency witnessed skulking;
kids fetched to school by gramps in faded denim;

Half shut cardoor booms out Knopfler;
beware the axeman cometh
Slither off while time songs slip away
eluding endless defeat in the eye
( why plummet to the sharp inconsiderate edge? )

Observe cyclists lapping Harrogate in the monsoon rains;
Hurricane Lorenzo could misspell trouble;
ModProg Party urges Libpunks grovel;
eating window shuts at two (doctor’s au d’oeuvres);
fallow the money; suckle the honey

Underloping timezones; day night irrelevance;
waiting by the window by a box of magic paints;
jokes of many colours; Creepy nip of March in reverse.
February next. Autoblah. Practising you scales and runs.
Smoking out recherche nuns.
Curry runs. And why not?
Goods as a feast of fresh air half dressed in Petri Sauce
(a radish best served cold).

By Gum, windbags voluminous expel at length.
Middle Eastern din brings cheer.
Tinnny hearts still beat. Wind upping?
Rheum recurs in this weather, drainsplayed, wheezy, guttersniped.
Gastrocellar aftermaths. Superior souls to the rescue.
Dried him out for over a week.
Shake rattle and scowl.

Get useful peel spuds says I. Bad move.
Like Carving soap with
a bradawl. one chip per spud.
bad economicsall round.
time and motion study concludees:
what a waste of wholesome carbs.

Clearing the Docks



Stevedores gently pulling loose goosebump gizzards thinking bout

a humpback whale off Margate passing


paradox lounge quiz

where bar lizards stroke florid

goosedown gizzards (close shave minus unctuous balm)

and mock at their impending peril

one armed bandits who rage like insistent  purple gargoyles


Footpads weave in empty handed and dodge loose change

begging favours  of crazy saviours caught peddling hope to great white dope

at this stage soft cops burst in quelling din

take seats conducive to  watch the fun begin when came a saucy dish
aforesaid fun begun just gone one

met a fishy saucy dish who one

found out later aroused an alligator who tried to sate her

When in came pater and caught said alligator

gnawing on a stubborn bone
pater was a well seasoned baked potato

too hot to handle so the cops looked around avoiding scandal lit a candle took a powder dipped their snouts in seafood chowder


Green golden sleeves droop willowy supine over sable fable plots footpads trip light
elastic plastic flagstones sneak thiefs issue wily gulley giggles that plangnt echo ghoulish splatter dash off din dissolves

cobbled runnels that lead to slim air drains for whistleblown miasma sinuate and hoop lanes or squat incongruous proud arched in dainty floribunda sprouted from chipped brick gulleys and

apostolic posies…fistfuls of six, fistful of seven repel overspruced suitors who don Sinday best bib and tucker leer languid lurid hungry smiles

afterwards blissed beyond coyly found besplat with coal juiced cum sleet dripping by to pass on a promise of nevermore nookie in a coalshed wherein eternal blisses steal  kisses contacting sublime lilting learned on all four
Things and everything you honour to dwell on for a parsec.


Meanwhile downtown lithe Hope
springs eternal

thanks to electric shock therapy
Episode seven: The Rape of the Flock (The Lord is my Sheepdog…)
Ram goes Apeshit in Dudley Salterton (the only game in town)
Deaf Mango Party Pack plays a Humdinger de Luxe (sparkly sunburst finish)
Carpal tension quelled by stirrup pump & unction (knees up bruvvah Brown)
Going going gong…Squawky Flitch prevails brings on the main event (songthrush)
During the crash of two zeros eight perished queuing up for Northern Rock (creme de la creme)
Rejigged a lifetime’s savings. Rodgered away on the sly by de Cover Up retreat into
Insecure obscurity battening down thatched hatches weathering the storm that never stops
Hurricane Hooha hits Honduras
Twisters blister bayou lakes of Pontchartrain (again)
Langston takes the wavy air

We Yodel



Bright green bus,

Blonde dressed black,

Sun kissed feet

‘Good morning!’


was pure good

sunlight all the way

today the bricks

are happy and

light hearted

I am bronzed.

Like Homer.


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Wibbly-wobbly from 
the mix of food & barbies

Boris the Bulldozer
Venal disobedience

Deathrow expansion approved 
by ruling classes—

all merry hell to break loose
To govern and be governed to

One way discourses are so
Abortively pedantic

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Little Giddy



gamelin1779surgiteWhere have i been
where have i been
sleeping on benches
proroguing the queen?
nine eleven or eleven nine
the day the trade centre got hit in new york
ah yes i remember it well
junk mail piling up in Cork
heading for the fall
initiation rites of passage
people looking savage
grittish standoff time
huns across the ocean

Where have i been
Where have i been
sleeping on benches
proroguing the queen

Horse Attitudes

via Horse Attitudes

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