And still no change



I have pillared together

A dish of copper and made 8 piles

Which equates to £4

Or thereabouts.


Now I am going to humiliate myself

At the bank.


Yesterday I had £60

But I fancied a horse named

Magic Mike

Who came nowhere.


I threw a twenty at him

And then ten more

On a dog whose name

Escapes me.


Two defeats had me 30 down.


Thirty became zero

And I assaulted myself

To the side of the head

All the way home.


Stupidity tore at my flesh

All night.


It’s a short walk to the bank

And on the street

I have smiled and nodded

With shame jangling heavy

In my pockets.


I hold the door for a trolley pusher.


The queue is short

And I exhale

Behind jabbering Poles.


There are investment opportunities



Observing the immaculate cashiers,

I chew a nail and taste

The counting of coin.


Jackie’s my favourite!

A tanned brunette with

Whitewashed teeth.


I lie to her a lot.


I need a good one, now!

◄ How mad

Saving Private Hayton ►


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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Fri 17th Feb 2012 17:19

I read your work in gulps, like drinking water when you're really thirsty. IMO, your work is the epitome of 'too carelessly clever' for anybody's own good. I think you write terrific work, as political as it gets because the themes are so universal, and relentlessly nailed.

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M.C. Newberry

Fri 17th Feb 2012 14:03

I've had part-shares in racehorses in the past
and know a bit about having a punt. This though reminded me of the guys in the bookies
who shout at the screened images as if their
voices carried through to the riders aboard their selections. A poem on this theme could be called "Self-Delusion".
Always bet within your means
And don't go chasing losses
It's a world of might have beens
And unreliable hosses!

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