Thursday 29 June 2017

For Mrs Duckett

KFC
Builders
JCB digger
Window cleaners
An icy one
For white wine days
A pink plastic one
With matching spade
A coin collector’s
At the demonstration
One of lead
For a numb arm sensation
One with sawdust
When sick on the floor
A watery one atop a
Downing street door
A guilty milky one
Pay the farmers more
One as a hat
F’ Madchester dancers
One full of coffee
For the Starbucks wankers
A firey red one
Full of sand
A coaley brass one
Filled by yer gran
A scruffy blue one
Full of tools
One full of glitter
F’ us clowns n’ fools
One to piss in
When you need it badly
A holey one,
Dear Liza Radley
Two words
For the tickets
You can't resist, yes
It's my fucking
Bucket list

Tuesday 27 June 2017

Shopping

Twitch a step t’ where the business class
Raise the camera atop the mast
In their closed-circuit mis-wired pride
Observing closely you and I
The underclass neath the underpass
Of the byway to the retail church
For non of faith they take the birch
Sacrificially offer gift vouchers
Blood vessels now replaced by lifts now 'cos
One arrow up, the other down
From the street up to it's lift-shaft crown
No longer built by hands of craft
The totemic shrines of steel and glass
To con the hard-earned
From thee attending mass
The regressive day out, where
Silver screen heros abseil past
As day-trippers worship
And pass the plate
Where prayers are answered
At an interest rate
Buying power muscles flex
Fingers flick the consumer catalogue
Prices index
Where shares go up and
Never fall
At the out-of-town
Shopping mall

Monday 12 June 2017

DUP


Don't Underestimate People the
Disenfranchised Ubiquitous Proleteriat the
Dormancy Upsetting Progressives who
Declare Unquestinable Proposals these
Diverse Underdogs Propagate
Democratic Uncertainty in Parliament by
Dumping Unworthy Policies and
Demanding Upstanding Principals
they
Definitively Unhinge Politics by
Denouncing this Untenable Party
these
Demonstratively Uber-Privelidged
Difference Underlining Practitioners who
Doctor Universal Parchments with
Dictatorial Unchecked Pomposity of which
Discriminations are Upheld Pervasively with
Demonic Unedifying Proclamations
such as their
Disgusting Uterine Pronouncements 'neath
Dishonest Umbrella of Pro-life and
Dangerously Unhelpful Profestation by the
Didactively Uncomfortably Pious
Decrying Unchristian People as
Degenerate Underclass Perverts whilst
Destroying Unionised Paradigms and
Defending Underground Paramilitaries
they
Deploy Unethical Practices to
Demonise Underprivileged Public and
Disgrace Undergraduate Protests whilst
Destabilising Unable Population and
Doing the Utmost to Patronise the
Disabled Uneducated and Poor they
Deal in Unethical Patriotism
Dabble in Ultra Protectionism
whilst
Denying the Unsustainability of Planet with
Dogmatic Unhelpful Postulations these
Dug-in Undercover Partisans
Dictating Unadulterated Preservation of
Divisive Unpalatable Projects spouting
Diatribles Under Pressure these
Disingenuous Eulogising Pricks I
Dare Utter Polemically

That’s enough about the Tories,
What about the DUP?

Sunday 11 June 2017

Plain Clothed Officers

Plain clothed
Officers
Down the park
Standard beards
And sunnies
Issue's
Not
That it's
Near our spot
Or
The BBQ
The rugby ball
Or that
They're
In charge
It's
Their
Very
Plain
Clothes

Hay on Tribes

Beige
Bursary-booted
Bernie Sanders believers

White bobbed
Zombie fiction
Frenzy feeders

White
Pointy prosecco
Prose persuers
With
Keep calm carry-on kids

White face
Red haired
Shawled
Scarfed
Jewelry over-staters

More white
Academic
Elbow-patched
Beard cultivators

More white carriers
Of books
With less
Life left
Than time to read
Per square

Tribes defined
My thumb is sore
To be fair
But still

If I want to stick out
In the rain
Over there
And smoke in my loafers
I bloody will


Bus Stops

She he
Pays bus
Sits top
Quite far bus to work
To work bus takes concentration
Concentration’s bust on quiet top of bus
Boss at top of firm cleans up
She he’s
Firming up for cleaning work
Bus stops
Work starts
Cleaning low with concentrate
Conscientious cleaning for top of firm
Pays low at bottom of work
Quite far from bottom to top
Works quietly from top to bottom with polish
Spit for top bosses
Conscience far from clean
Low pay
Stops hard work
Pays
Clean bus
Sits firm on bottom
Bus starts
Never stops

Open Return

Two seats down
Open window
Bothers me
I get up
Ask if I can
Shut it
No bother
In the first place
They open themselves
Sometimes
I shut it
I sit down
I didn't bother to
Open my mouth
To say thanks
It opens itself
Sometimes
Where do I get off
Maybe I
Should have
Shut it
In the first place
Maybe he
Opened it
In the first place
Now he thinks
I’m a twat
Now he’s
Getting off
I'm not

Saturday 10 June 2017

Small Town Shite


Sat’dee night
Sun’dee mornin’
Small town shite.

No,
I don't knows,
Where
Mumbo Jumbos
Might

Be,
But,
Bodies
Bounce off
Bigger bodies,
With voluminous
Voracity
And throw-up
Themselves,
In to  the task,
To find this
Holy grail.

Fuelled by amber nectar
Lit by amber warning,
Outside of
My window,
All
Fucking
Sat’dee night
And
Sun’dee
Fucking
Mornin’.

For The Betsey, a Poem


She,
Stands out
She stands out
like a pacifist 
in a field of coppers,
he wonders what wonders,
beneath that bonnet,
for arty opportunity,
we take it as read,
we're walking in your shadow
as the Uriah Heap song said.

We take part & sup,
lock-in to the ethos,
we make art to chuck
& for keepers,
we catch a surprise,
in this kingdom of merry,
as time flies behind
the curtain of mem'ry.

We congregate,
up junctionally,
celebrate unpunctually,
lick wooer’s wounds
dysfunctionally,
adopt bar fly stance
presumptuously,
from city types
to Trots, we tug our
locks unsubtly,
bawdy bow &
canny curtsy,
triumphantly raise
tankards brim,
to those without
& those within,

The Betsey.


Sunday 4 June 2017

Black Cat Cross

To those, who oppose
The wind farms’ saving grace.
May you wake with a black cat,
Pissing in your face.
May the cat leave carbon footprints
On your nimby, pristine sheets,
Break into your 4 x 4
And shit all over t’ seats.

May the hedgehogs eat your guts.
May your fracking heart to burst.
If it’s all about appearance:
What the hell looks worse?
A harnesser of wind,
To slickly save the planet?
Or shitty stickers
In prissy windows,
Declaring there to ban it?

I wish you nuclear family fallout.
Forever poison, in your waters.
A pissy cursed life,
For smoggy sons and daughters.
Hope first team dreams will rot
In the unsustainable reserves.
Have your fucking ‘unspoilt’ views,
Get the planet you deserve.