Font Anna

Font
Anna

Tant
Flow

Slash
House

Dill
Pits

Roundel
Scoundrel

Face
Lift

Elken
Issue

Brass
Angle

An
Ad

Con
Quo

Brew
Drop

Taint
Spout

Ameri
Stops

A Phrase I Hate

A phrase I hate

When talking ‘bout his chosen job,

He said “I literally fell into it.”

“What’s your name?”

“Tom Daley”

So I let him off, a bit.

Canvas Houses

In canvas houses
All clever thin
We write and blow
From out to in
Till mercy ships in
Docks the lash
For now the still
    Or so we think
As wind will soon as
Screw us up and
Pick us for the bin
Then we realise
We don’t decide
The how or when
Of anything

Black and Shite Friday

Black & Shite Friday

Clock on to this:
Where
The wind behind
Black Friday sails,
Stinks no end,
Where
Human rights fail.

Where
If your gender
Makes you sick,
This time of month?
Tough shit!
Where
You’ve worked
12 straight
Docked toilet breaks?
‘S not good enough, is it?!

Where
No fucks are given
For mouths you feed,
As rows of yous
Top table wait,
There’s none
For your plate,
My mate.
Fuck off home,

Hands off our crumbs,
You’ve zero hours and
Six strikes son,
Where
Pros are nothing,
It’s all just cons.
The tannoy barks
This battery life,
Your card is marked
They’re watching you
‘Scum’.

Clock out to this:
Where
The road to Wigan pier
Is set,
Graft three more
Without your pay, or
There’ll be no work
Tha’ ‘morrow, pet.
Where
It’s workhouse rule,
It’s a life threatener,
Down Ashley’s
Shirebrook
Detention centre.

Mark Coverdale
#AshleyOut

Lap-Topping

‪There’s a dog the size‬‬

Of a large child

Sniffing ancient carpet

& builder’s boots

I’m breaking teeth

On scratchings

Where time & pride

Are in cahoots

They’re lap-topping

Down the local

& missing all the action

Their only words

Are Wi-fi passed 

Say it again

As before I have said

They’re keeping this pub

Alive 

They’re keeping this pub

Dead

ERG

Penfold manifested
Mickey Mouse iron vested
With a smattering of Latin
To give their intelligence a flattering
Political malignants
Facilitating ignorance
Since 1993
The ERG

Unity Parks It’s Dog

Parks
Are cricket games
In headscarves
Grandma cheering from
Her foldaway seat
To an ice cream van version
Of Beethoven’s Fur Elise

Parks
Are dad/son kick-abouts
When knee high to a grasshopper
Are Chardonnay laid down
Without the screw top stopper

Parks
Are where shiny new football tops
Kick empty tins
With names on backs that
Weren’t parlance
The last time ‘they’ won anything

Parks
Are a peaceful hours work
For the self employed outdoors
Uncaged
Are a peaceful hours kip
For the unhoused and unwaged

Parks
Are sniffing grounds
For the four legged waggers
For community support officers
For insta snappers snapping flowers
For skunk aficionado swaggers

Parks
Are where fertile roots grow
Where every colour is
Knowingly complicit
Where thoughts
Are rife
Where life’s
The soundtrack so
Leave the headphones at home
Take a book
And pay your local
A regular visit