Tag: Shopping

Same Old Malarkey


-Apart from walk what

would you like to do?

-Dunno, don’t think about that

much these days.

Go out?


What to do?

I’m skint anyway,

then there’s the weather,

and, to be honest

I’m not much company,

and, repulsive to look at

except in a ghoulish way.

See I’m pretty much

resigned to that these days.

Don’t get me wrong though,

I haven’t given up.

Where there’s life…and all of that.

What about you, what are you up to?

-Cosmic time travel,

the laundry,

a spot of Pilates,

watch some junk on the box,

maybe a spot of bear baiting.

Same old, same old.

Isn’t online shopping a godsend?

The time you save…

-Dunno, don’t do it much these days,

too much damn hassle

and then there’s identity theft,


and you don’t know

really see what your getting,

well you can’t can you –

not unless you’re really there,

in the shop or whatever.

-We could go shopping…shop-ping!

-Nah, I hate shopping.

crowds of people.

Bloody people everywhere,

getting in your way,


-What about Christmas then?

-Quiet I suppose…

a barren tundra

of dread bleak isolation.

Same old malarkey 

Dazed & Confused


Thine be the Glory

Fol-de-fol-de-fol- de-rol!

monkeys dressed up jesuits

long-long-long bevor


how sweet it is

to be






After Bathing at Baxter’s



Dusk’s here (round half four),

falling to a soundtrack:

Jumpin’ Jive,

Cab Calloway.




Must be short for something.

All I can think of just now is


though I have no faith in it.


Surely, no-one would be called Cabin,

or Cable.

Not for a first name anyway.

Well, I’ll go to the foot of our stars!

It is Cable.

Spelt Cabell.

Something to do with cowbells?







Parsnip Worship Rosehip



Transparently puny:

crouched, shifting, jumpy.

Sugar load mountain.

Spoon that spoonful.

Croon tune, fart of pixie.


Hammy line; Bambi-mine.

Sulk in silken mulch:

Gulchmen stacked neat

On Ass lawn by door,

calling cactus cool:


enter Geraldo reprising

Cucumber Rumba.

Clever blunder

Cast asunder syncopating

Generation rehydrating.




Altogether now!

Laws were made

for the obedience of Fools,

and the guidance of Wiseguys.

Late Night Shopping


Moussaka from Alaska!


Had any moose

For donkey’s ears.

Jazzy caresses

Tell me:

If you can keep your head

When all around are

Are losing theirs

You can read this.




The fruit of my labour

so far today

Sits over in a

Modest plastic bag

Amidst other items,


It is well





‘Shifting Metaphor’ the bag reads,


in very gooseberry green above


Iconic bitten fruit (an apple?).


A wasp draft flicks it,

it tumbles giddily and

comes to rest

On a too full

smudged yellow

pedal bin,


I explode

My fruits are strewn


over the scintillating,

brick-red non-slip



Howling now

I watch them perish,

wither and vanish,


full tiny



Marasmus done

the voided quasars

dance quick,

nimble polkas to dash

the conic lampshade



like Orgones


reason do –

We Sleep




Lighthouse Nighthouse

Huguenot lovers on St. Bartholomew's Day


Cricket and pills.


A Huguenot calls.


We talk balls.


Share our ills.




I do not wear lace since chiffon left.


Yet the memory of soap suds abides.




The medication commences just


after lunchtime on the second day.


Two down eight to go. Too high to control:


off the mark. breathe a sigh of brief relief.


Night is right.




Theodolites at dawn portend a repast


of frogs and lizards.


We shall heat them up before we eat them up


watching for triremes from the lighthouse penthouse.


Catching Up

Trudgin through a drift of skinbits, a clock


‘Zoot alors!’ I exclaimed, realising that the clocks

had changed.

What was once a mongoose was now a goose.

‘Non dieu!’ I exclaimed.

How time flies.

‘Au contraire, mon nambulist!’

Said a clock.

Photograph of Marcel Duchamp's "Fountain&...


Fall Clocks Back Soon

wheelchair matisses

Moon undercast, sat in dark, underslept,


Grayson Perry repeats in my ear:

wreath lecture.


Upstairs rumbles, floorboards creak:  footfall

human biped

paw patter.



House to clear, stuff to do.

Shetland occasionally poor.

Colour pitch. Huge challenges. Budget cuts.

Findings concerning.


Rain is the number. Heavy brisk bluster.

Gorge custard. Asp tounges in larkspit.

Togas and no gas.

Maria danced for money


grander day. Blue mountain megafire. Bedtime for bonkers.


The day begins and ends in night.

Night is morning: Good morning night!


Clocks fall back soon.



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