There’s a shoot-out on the bowling green

The pianola’s full of holes

The Man with No Name’s

Got a Zimmer frame 

And a tray of sausage rolls

He’s a High Plains drifter 

Not from round here

The strong and silent type

Got a dance partner, can’t lift her

They practice moves on Skype

At the monthly hoedown 

At the nursing home 

He wears a felt ten-gallon hat

It’s ...

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It is our extreme pleasure

To cast open our doors for you

And present for your lifestyle and leisure

The incomparable Urinal View

Imagine yourself on summer days

On your balcony facing the strand

Absorbing ultraviolet rays

Where the lavatories stand

Twenty-two exclusive apartments

Designed for the fortunate few

With an open Northerly aspect

Overhanging the public l...

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Earth has not anything to show more shit

Mad would she be of soul who could watch it

A sight so tragic, such a travesty 

This chancer now doth, like a varmint wear

The mask of a presenter, barefaced stare

Scandal, pandemic, the litany of lies

Indifferent, callous, let bodies pile high

Wittering trivia to the poisoned air  

Never did one so manifestly seep

Self important ...

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Half a lager, half a larger,

Half a larger. Onward

into their bellies so fast.

Poured the six punters.

"Four more light ales they craved!"

“Charge a large gin!" he said.

Into their bellies in haste

Poured the six punters.

"Four more light ales !" They craved

Err, were men so ale'd?

Not though the barman knew

Someone overcharged.

Not them to make amends...

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My cat Daisy is the baddest cat around,

She'll attack you so quick without making a sound,

She'll turn you face into a scratching post,

Take a shit then lay on the remote,

You will just think it went missing,

Ask her and she'll pretend she's not listening,

And that's my cat Daisy,

She's fuckin' crazy,

Sick and twisted maybe,

Low key though she's a crybaby,

A...

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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,...

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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
Like Hull.

My love for you would continue to grow throughout this experience,
As slowly as ...

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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
and break
My hand,
OOOH!

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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.

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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...

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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...

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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 ...

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(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...

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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.

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(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 a...

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