Poetry Blogs (2013, parody)
They fuck you up, these brexit turds,
it's what they're born to, that's their rôle;
they fill you with their empty words
much as they shit into your soul.
Of course, they've heard it all before,
from parents - and grandparents too:
"compassion's out! You must abhor
those migrants, or they'll overrun you."
Racists perpetuate themselves
and make others like them,...
Tuesday 9th July 2019 9:25 am
If we could live together without death's arrival as an inevitable inbetweener,
Your coyness would not be a misdemeanour.
We'd spend all eternity discussing each angle afresh,
And you'd probably go looking for rubies beside a river in Bangladesh,
Whereas I'd predictably end up somewhere really dull
My love for you would continue to grow throughout this experience,
As slowly as ...
Wednesday 20th June 2018 3:12 pm
Don't tell my leg
My Achy Breaky leg
I just don't think
I could stand.
And if you tell
my leg my
Achy Breaky leg
I might just fall
Friday 14th July 2017 4:19 am
Roses are red.
Violets are ... not red.
Hibiscus are sneaky little rascals that only bloom during that weekend when you're away visiting your parents because they still pay your bills.
I hate flowers.
Thursday 18th February 2016 11:08 pm
Miss Corfield, Miss Corfield, we’re destined as one
You a wood nymph, I a woodworkers son.
We both vibrate airwaves of Radio 4
You live and vivacious! I dead as a door.
With nasal enhancement and vamp-throated quirk
You take mundane news and you set it to work
Stirring old men, from straw hat to galoshes
Till backward and forth, my sawdust-blood slo...
Wednesday 30th October 2013 1:28 pm
The Moon feels naught in futile circling
far off in bland acceptance of our plight;
while in that feeble light we half-blind stray
to situations shunned in light of day.
Her beams afford us sight attenuate
allowing indiscretions - thought and deed
and poets then, that cold dead orb invest
with subtle attributes no whit possessed.
As folly nightl...
Friday 25th October 2013 12:01 pm
Do not go easy into that cruel plight,
Life-latency should, combination, stay;
Rage, rage against the prying of the light.
Though cells, prior to conjoin, accrue no right,
Un-right usurped un-bid, entreats that they
Do not go easy into that cruel plight.
Wild sperm who caught and shot the ovum’s flight,
And learned too late, now grieving on your ...
Tuesday 22nd October 2013 2:07 pm
(To be read in Heaney’s ‘reading voice’.)
My chisel’s cold appraisal
Blunt as an English Master’s stare
Probes the poem for its pith.
Non sequiturs stacked neatly
Drying in a metaphoric sun
Supported by a splay of beams.
Redundancy is everywhere
Making the poet poorer than Midas
Who dare not spend a penny
Lest the golden flow shoul...
Tuesday 22nd October 2013 10:34 am
Roses are dead,
they smell like Le Pew.
But they still smell sweet
compared to you.
Roses are dead,
now you feel blue.
So take a shot neat,
and uncork the screw.
Roses are dead,
our hopes are too.
You were a cheat,
but I was too.
Thursday 11th April 2013 5:26 pm
(after A. A. Milne, "I often wish I were a King")
I'm often lost in ruminations
On what I'd do if stuck at stations.
If I were stuck at HARRINGAY,
I'd pitch a tent and ask to stay.
If I were stuck at STEVENAGE,
I'd build a campfire, on the bridge.
If I were stuck at FINSBURY PARK,
I'd dance around it, in the dark.
If I were stuck at MORROWGATE, (*)
I'd phone and tell you I'd...
Saturday 10th March 2012 1:26 pm