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'Why don't you ever write poems about me?'

Because I don’t have to use words like porn uses a fluffer

Because when you’re here I am all over you

Because you are always telling me to get off the computer

And anyway, I do

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Half way through the year of the travel bong

With nicotine cordial-

A nursing tool for a caterpillar-


I realise that cigs haven’t been around that long

And perhaps like corsets

They will soon become a fetish


But at the root of it all

Plants have devious ways-

And as the cane and the bean

Still make their filthy way

Around the world


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Or worse


As honesty doesn’t come in half measures

I squared up to him-

‘In this tin is worms,’ I said,

‘I won’t mince syllables,

As I am meant to be gritty-

There’s already too many

In this bit…’


Then we went to town

Dressed as old goths

And we went to town

On each other



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If we eat in a cafe

My Mum loves to sit

Near a group of young men

Who are hungry,


‘Oh I love to see a lad

Tucking into a pie with his friends me-

Wolfing it down.’


But she doesn’t seem

Half as impressed

When I do it.

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The Last Word



When the air is clear,

Not quite as blue

And every other problem

Isn’t you,

When the demon lit

Calms the hue

And allows another point of view-

Then I’ll grind the shells

Beneath my shoe

And I’ll hope it’s not too late

And worth the wait.


Get some bin bags.

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My son's first love


I said to myself I would like you

After all

We had both been swimming

Against a tide

A thing worth having…

And all that


 ‘There isn’t a girl in this world that doesn’t like me’

I said to him

Wanting that to be true

And one day in floats you

Quietly striding the breadth

Of the living room


Expecting to see a monster


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For digging in

Statuesque and patient

Giving me the rope

But holding the other side,


For caving in

Graciously and reserved

Showing me the door

But leaving the light on,


For diving in

Desperate and afraid

Throwing me the ring

Throwing me the ring

Throwing me the ring

And never expecting a catch,


For having eyes...

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Change is inevitable

Though it is hard work

Now the tunnel sheds no light to see

If a shadow still clings


But from all angles

It tugs and pushes

And everyone is trying to be cheery

So it must be turning


Like when this fret

Dissolves with the frost

And light creeps up limbs, picking away

At the sores of winter,


The will of t...

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In Debenhams

I am going to read this out on Monday in the Sandbar. I am a big fan of Jonathan Swift (particularly The Lady's Dressing Room) and Norman O Brown and this is a true (unfortunately) tribute to them.



Stirred from browsing,

My intestinal arousing

Yearning for soft furnishing-

Almost spent

And yet my system


I had so much more to give.


I wa...

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Norman O BrownJonathan Swiftlife's little ironies

Posh Tramps

My friend Julia loves this type of bloke. Every now and then she goes off to Hebden Bridge on a barge and she pokes a tree with the sharp end of her guitar and one falls down. She whips them off to Salford with her, then soon gets sick of them scrounging food and banging on and returns them. They can also be found in Manchester from All Saints Library up to and including Hulme. 




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Truncated Circle


Whatever you do don’t think about trees.

But if you do happen to think about trees

Think about elephants-

Tiny elephants in a photo mosaic

Which when you stand back

Looks like a tree.

But don’t think about trees.

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Corridor- the urban desert



Dawn breaks

An egg

On the face

Of the dregs

Who attempted to drown

In this town


They thirst

From drink

As they squint

At the mirage

Of a distant cab

Or a kebab


Tongues hang

And slurp

At a friend

Who becomes

A seducing meat

That whispers ‘eat’



Fishes on dry stone gulping, they flip flop in...

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Things Are Ticking Over Nicely- a country song I have written for Bush Pig


I’ve been married to Jackson Junior for nigh on fifteen years

We’ve a mortgage on our semi that’s never in arrears

Our kids are grade A students, say their prayers and are polite

I guess that what I’m saying is-

Things are quite alright


Can’t complain, I can’t complain

I’ve been happy and I’ve been sane

We’ve never had a health scare

And are kids aren...

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People who have a cushion with a hand sewn folk art owl on

Will at some point draw a moustache on their finger

They will place that finger under their nose and pose

For a photograph


The members of the BNP will not study philosophy

Since they are given the label ‘the far right’

They assume they have all the answers


Whether you cut carrots into batons...

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