Yes, you spotted it.
Saturday morning once again.
Bumptious wireless nattering.
Time is a smartphone lost in the wash.
Turn back the clock an era.
Pete Conrad is goofing on the moon.
Retreat into dreams.
Vacate white screaming rooms.
Hide keys to secrets
in fast forgotten crannies.
Robbing the rich is a crime.
Robbing the poor’s Capital.
Get that coffee down you, pal.
You need it more than you know.
shopsoiled mad scuffed up
big pharma trends on tablet
mauve is the new grey
fluttering joggings, dry leaves,
silent violet slumber
elegance and decadence
septic tittering
Polly sipping gin through sock
mockery is old hat now
empathy is all the rage
Do-da-do-da-day…
at wadis elands
sip and natter,
hippos chew over
schedules and spreadsheets,
a baboon breaks cover
to bag a lax flamingo…
The sleepy papergirl wends
deftly shutting gates behind her,
delivers her wares:
vaporises,
sun beats flush soft
surges on verges…
more vainglorious burblings:
chattering classes
do not pay to rent
my ears with plummy guff,
hoarse hacks heckle, and snooties
snotter and guffaw.
True Sloth don’t rise.
Nine bleeps.
The leather hunters make bone soup,
dowse piss on the curing hides.
Red Lorry due at ten
Yellow lorry twelve
Grimbeau 