The Thames (London) 
 
Not deeply profound 
Or profound in its depth 
 
Hmm 
 
I may not have a fantastic social life presently 
But I do have a web presence; www.seolondonsurrey.co.uk . 
 
WASP 
 
You think you're a social butterfly 
But you're more of a bee 
Honey 
 
 
Radiohead 
 
Resisting 
In a persistent 
Vegetative 
State 
"Appalled ironic paralysis" 
 
Promise 
 
Like a speeding car driver 
On the first day of summer 
When the oil rises up from the tarmac 
I'll be coming back to you 
 
 
Collaborative Poem From A Toilet Door In London 
by various anonymous authors. 
(supported by London Arts Council and the National Lottery.) 
 
My arse sings like a buttercup 
It warbles in the night 
And when it drops it's little load 
My legs must take to flight 
 
Mmmm 
 
 
Red pudding tonight 
Angel Delight 
Fluffy mash in the sky 
Shepherd's Pie 
 
Roll 
 
Sometimes it feels like 
We're ballroom dancing 
It seems I'm only here 
To make you look good 
 
Tortured Artist in Isleworth 
 
Van Gogh also lived here 
 
Society 
 
You were free publicity 
There was no spark 
Apart from that of media interest 
The only things that clicked 
Were the photographers' cameras 
I did not have much to say to you 
But I had something to sell 
 
My Stylist 
 
I go to Barry 
At Toni and Guy's in Richmond 
To get a regular sprinkle 
Of "designer dandruff" 
To create the illusion that 
I am a mere mortal 
With the rest of humanity 
 
The Big Turd 
 
On the edge of a big nothing 
Space to fill 
Time to kill 
Everyone wants to look 
Some need to be seen 
 
 
Dead Artist. Modern Art 
 
I am out of copyright 
I've still got loads to say 
I am out of copyright 
And there is no one left to pay 
 
Extract from Dissertation Acknowledgements 
 
...No thanks to a certain fast-food restaurant in Aldershot, Hampshire 
for many hours of much perspiration 
and rational bureaucratic exploitation 
for a very miserly remuneration 
but thanks very much for the inspiration 
and inside information 
for this dissertation 
/ independent study. 
Thanks to my fellow "crewmembers" there for the odd moments of 
transcendental 
existential 
elation 
and jubilation... 
 
Bullshit (Dedique a tous poetes.) 
 
I do not get shitfaced 
Pissed up 
Or hammered 
I am an artist 
Too exquisitely sensitive for the world 
I seek to explore the extremities 
Of the human condition 
Booze is for me 
An agent of mystical transport 
Je bois 
Pour epater les bourgeois 
I do not have a romantic attitude to lager 
It is integral to my (f)art 
Shits 
And hangovers 
 
London 
 
I am reliably informed 
That the Chinawhite Bar's VIP area 
Is called the Mao Bar 
When can we discerning punters expect 
The Hitler Brasserie 
And Stalin Cafe? 
 
Romance 
 
As a firework farted in the starry sky 
I try to stare into your cross eyes 
 
Mucous 
 
From panpipe purgatory 
To the saxaphone moods first ring of hell 
 
Westside 
 
I'm so suburban 
I think my Nike trainers make me 
Hardboiled 
Risky 
Edgy 
Raw and 
Gritty 
Yo Baby! 
Wassup? 
It's no coincidence that statistics show 
Reebok Classics footprints are now more often found in 
Forensic evidence than Air Max 
 
Bland 
 
In the kingdom of the bland 
The person with a non-ear piercing is (shoc)king 
The man with a comedy tie is Joe King 
And the man with a Jamiroquai CD is fun(king) 
 
Dreams 
 
I want to be a cult author 
I'm going to shoot my wife 
Drink myself to an early grave 
Do drugs man 
To provide vicarious thrills 
For commuters on the train 
 
Clubbing in Aldershot. Shite 
 
As the deejay piles pure piano tuna 
On hard cheesebag endlessly 
Anybody who is nobody 
Will soon walk through that door 
Life is not hard in here 
Just a lot of it is para trained 
Major structural damage is being inflicted upon the premises 
By the mattress backs 
(Not mutton dressed as lamb 
But offal packaged as mutton) 
Waddling in time to the big numbas 
It feels like the roof is about to cave in 
My dandruff is glowin' under the UV light 
Oh the glamour 
 
Talk of the Town 
 
I was once an eligible batchelor 
Now I am an illegible old batchelor 
Now I am more Debenhams 
Than debonair 
I used to be enigmatic 
Now I listen to Enigma 
 
Phart 
 
I am so modern 
I listen to post rock 
I like post ironic humour 
I use post shave balm 
I hot-desk in a post office 
My post is delivered by the Royal Mail 
 
Branded 
 
  Baptised in the TV channel 
  Style-pressed 
Like a gingerbread man 
  With a 
biscuitcutter 
Pinpointed by market research 
As target 
Youth market 
  Nike tattooed on my chest 
  Catchy jingle on my mind 
  When I blink I see negatives 
  Of cola logos and golden arches 
  We pledge allegiance 
  To the swoosh 
Or stripes 
Conspicuous consumption has diffused 
Through my pores 
The brand 
Has placed it's hands 
On me 
 
Question 
 
Do smart bombs 
Write anthems 
For doomed hardware 
And software? 
 
 
Questionzzz 
 
Am I 
"Lost in the automatism 
Of the hypnotised corporeal" 
Or off my nut 
On half a paracetamol 
And a vivid imagination 
 
Retrograde 
 
I am the spirit of retro youth culture 
A costumed crisis living in a costume drama 
I am the process of what was cool 
Reaching room temperature 
I live in inverted commas 
In a self-imposed cartoon 
I am excitement for those who like routine 
My "revival" is resuscitation 
Smiling knowingly 
Sarcastically 
Cynically 
Satirically 
Ironically 
Today is of little value 
I prefer the good old days before I was born 
I deny the creative possibility of young blood 
Or am I just fancy dress for a far too serious world? 
 
Ice Cream Cone 
 
Up shit creek 
Without a boat 
With concrete socks on 
I see alligators... 
Or are they crocodiles? 
 
 
Ode To Chips 
 
Thou art divine 
 
 
Lines on Wrinkles 
 
When you are young 
You try to find yourself 
While yourself is finding you 
You do what you are told 
And also just do 
You are only young once 
So that one day you can grow old 
But we are not born warm 
For us to grow cold 
 
Iffy 
 
If this poem was a pop song 
It would have a producer 
It would have strings 
And be an instant classic 
It would have crashing cymbals 
And thundering kettle drums 
(I use clever symbols) 
I'm going to do a cover version of some other writer's poetry 
To get my name known 
 
Mekon 
 
If I was a film star 
People would still say 
" You've got a big head" 
And I would have to explain 
Cinema projection to them 
 
Norman 
 
When the sky is your oyster 
The world is your limit