Queues

Paperback novel studied close.
Brassy makeup and studded nose.
Plastic leather clutching spindly legs.
Tiny fag full of tarry dregs.

Purple bust in a tight tee shirt.
Shuffling feet in pigeon dirt.
Long, thin mongrel on a scruffy string.
Stomachs growling while saviours sing.

Hare hare
lentil lentil
Hare Krishna
super soup run.
Krishna Krishna
hare lentil
hare hare
better fed.

Kneckless barrel in a penguin suit.
Glittering woman with a slim cheroot.
Beautiful people, queue to dine,
play the tables and drink their wine.

Peeking nipples through designer cloth.
Elegant shoes on a pristine path.
Pert pink poodle with a pearly lead,
posing prettily while people feed.

Loony loony
Hare Krishna
hare hopeless
dropout dopes.
Krishna Krishna
orange oddball
skinny bloke with
shaven head.

The Past
(which is like a queue facing the wrong way, if you think about it)

In the 1970s
When Nato shared peace-keeping powers with Interflora
And Britain briefly gave up her nation status
To become a musical instrument
And ‘oriental’
Meant a Hare Krishna orange lentil,
Crowd surfers at a Chris De Burgh concert
Were instantly incinerated
By the up-raised lighters
Whilst the on-stage machinery
Extruded kapok cushion filling instead of smoke.

Shambo for First Minister

Shambo is a healthy chap,
serene and calm and wise.
He commands complete devotion
from monks and multitudes.

Poor Roddri is a sickly guy,
his heart is rent with stress.
The torment of the party strife
has put his life at risk.

Now, Shambo once had contact with
that nasty bug TB,
so the wicked, dopy bureaucrats
have sentenced him to death.

There is one perfect solution
to this horrid stupid mess.
Make Shambo the First Minister
and let Roddri get some rest.

Hin Du

Woke up, wrote this, it started out as something topical. Ah well.

SPOILER

Seven city-situated billboards strike out on adventure
To locate the birthplace of the articles they advertise.
Three of them are built like cubed horizontal blinds
With a rotary function allowing for the consecutive
Presentation of four separate advertisements.
After weighing up the situation,
The multi-display units decide on a quest
Each designating one of their items as the Holy Grail
To which the others elude.

The static posters call the others, ‘Twirlers’
It is a term of abuse masquerading as a term of endearment.

When summer was delivered,
Chivvied down the ramp from an HGV
By men wearing envelope-brown work coats,
Slapping her flanks with metronomes,
She was hitched to the albuminous lights
Of passing traffic on an arterial route.
Its combined torque
Will be sufficient to turn her into road kill,
Unless one of the posters intervenes.

And one of the ‘Twirlers’ will intervene.
So Summer will stay and stay and stay
Consecutively unpicking her champion
In the dust of the gutter,
In the eaten air
In the lull
Between.

Of course, they strike out 'on' an adventure.
Apologies. Late nights. Daft thoughts.

This pome just appeared in my head -- it's about the way some plants masquerade (in a very ersatz way) as insects and other things, to induce similar insects, and other things, to mate with them as part of their reproductive cycle.


PLANTS
When plants imitate politicians
As a means to procreate
They’re only rough-ready renditions
Sing ballot box bollix, mandate

MPs that are tricked into meshin’
With weed, so the weed can prevail
Are latterly drawn to confession:
They toked but they didn’t inhale

Yippee! Shambo is saved. Such is the awesome power of Malpoetry.

Shambo I salute you!
Malpoet is indeed the benefactor of bulls and if Malpoet is not a Taurean he must become an honorary Taurean with immediate effect.

Geminian. Double bull.