Poetry Blogs (collage poem)

Nigel was right of course
straight out of the other side 
walking across the zebra lane
on that promenade 
the treachery of Facebook.

The Green Man is sleeping until winter 
but spring rain will awaken him next year,
haunted by the repetition

it was a day like this 
when she was a tree 
and he wore her like a cloak
When she was smoke 
clinging to a death bed, 
no wasted anger arra...

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Wake up to the glory of a legendary Nigel we do not know
Nigel was gone when we rioted that night time 
Nigel was gone when we ran out of chicken pie
It was the day they told us to learn again in insanity 
Nigel was first of course
Taking to unplug with Nigel
We are taunted or haunted by memories of the future
The inkwell was full of pulsating excitement 
hitting the right notes in music a...

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He's gone

gone

gone

I’m dreaming I’m Bohemian

Last time we met, gyroscopic diner punches back, back, back

punching mp3s isn't the same as punching records

This lockdown is never ending - send me more Vodka

The wrong place, at the wrong time, Icarus falls into the English Channel,

to be washed up on the white cliffs, and the Queen is left immortal,

as the freedom monarch

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Overtaken by cyclists heading into sunrise in your dreams  

Broke grains on Monday, counting red angels

Drunk on darkness smiling on the shadows

A phone call only a shadow away from your fingertips

We are the survivors stunned, in Stockport

Digging deeper, reflective

Talking to the walls

Church bells toll for every day without a death

We are the poets leaving our words open...

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Dreading the task of a thousand spots
Lost worlds now more than just regrets or soiled paths not taken
Walking through life with coke, crack, and endless possibilities.

In the amber of panic a book of hauntology is born
The biggest April fools prank ever

Miniature portraits of a poetic diaspora under curfew still deliver haunting lines

Gaining a better view at the edge of the world
Ta...

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Righteous and correct, the clown wilts

Rumour has it I saw someone in costume

From a magazine advertising hard goods.

It’s left my heads in bolts and screwed up.

Unlock my imagination.

No you can’t have a pancake: it’s Saturday!

Run your fingers through the rubble

At the altar of vengeance

Rumour has it, God is forgotten and pancakes need Nutella.

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There’s a rumour going round that street

Pushing past their little destinies

Caught short Shakespear relieved himself against the corn sheaves

The fox startled bit the leg of the harvest jigger

The painting has little time to dry, as poets' pens begin.

To take down a street of music, blended to new worlds of rhyme.

Underneath the moon

The rabbit did not sto...

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In the new dawn of dreams

Adolf sits on his final throne of dirt dug deep,

Wondering if the English Bard would have loved him so,

Don’t go down that street!

We are wild-walking beings with a side of dark heart.

Sheep have beautiful contours and very furry

Hurry up Steinbeck, you’re rambling

Sitting on tailored lawns through polished glass

Not as cool in old b...

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