January

There’s water in the gin bottle.
There’s panic in the fridge.
January’s gone titanic
An’ you’re standing on the bridge.
Chest is empty, parrots flown,
All you’ve got is Jack.
That fiver borrowed, from Mrs. Hubbard,
She wants if fucking back.

But! Me hearties, think on these;
Whilst staring into choppy seas,
You’ve got a cabin, a deck to swab,
A drink of rum after ya job,
A gaff, first mate, a bath, some
Clean an’ proper clothing.
The bats you clock around your block,
Are just your fear and loathing,
So park yer gob and start your boots,
You’ll find, that sympathy lacks surprise,
So look at it with worldly eyes,
Clean your periscope myopic,
‘Cos compared to most folk
‘Round the world,
Your woe is microscopic.

To the Fallen

To the Fallen

Definitions
Of poet
Of poetry
Should not be
Defined
By literati
But by us
Laid down
By the regular
Otherworldly
As in
Reel to reel in
Salfordian spiel that
Throws itself up
On Bier Keller floor
As it’s
Amped up to
12 times 12 times
Repeat
The smart white
Ringmaster
Shirts the issue
Runs rings
Round the carousel
Beat
As it’s
Electric tonight
It’s town hall
Crap tonight
It’s tight
It’s shite
It’s one man highlight
As in
You’ll see
Between the eyes
It’ll hit
It will
You watch
As we
Love to
Tot up the scores
To compare
Legacy
To examine
Cause
As the
Telly screen shouts
The staccato
Oddball
Vidiprinter slurs
Late
Kick off
Late
Late
Kick off

Blackpool Rock - A Tanka

Blackpool rock
The name

Runs right through
Not with garish

Mis-placed pass of thought

That modernity is
But

Humility
Captain
Keep us warm

Paws on The Crown

They are clean and cut
Down The Crown.
With armfuls of screamers, rock
These session IPA-ers flock.
They’ve already,
Fennelled the way indoors,
This buttoned up bunting,
Foreshown finery parade,
Of the early doors
Parent baby club brigade.
Yawnsome holiday catch-ups, ‘neath
Saffroned catch-of-the-day adverts
Where winking Edwardian ladies
Are in the bogs
Where blinking unordinary buggies
Are in the way,
On the way to the bogs.
This time of day,
This place,
Far from wise,
As over my solo
One and only
In this place,
I over extortionise.

Probable Lush - A Tanka

Probable lush all
Music hall neat chatter she
Theatrically
Reviews with well brushed latter
Day dressing room mirror lit
With wilting lipstick “Hello”

Miss Overheard Two - A Tanka

These older ladies
Late night tubists drinking speech
From cut-glass vintage
Effusive talk of casual
Chess with the Marxists no less

All Set Up at the Euro Caff

There’s friendly
And there’s
Turkish friendly
At the Euro cafe
Niceties and gratuities
Every Saturday
Over flow like the
Over holey pepperpot
Does over eggs
Every Saturday
I always forget I
Pour the sugar
Pour over articles
Over easy flick
Cultural socially
Politically poetic
Learn and react
Urine subtract as
My mind’s eye maps
And street view plots
The first of the day
With a little time and
Breathing space
Before football scores
Take this plate
Of joy away.

A Song by Carillion

Lavenders blue dilly down
The lavatory green
Daily daily
Government be Kings
Government be Queenste
A penny for the poor Subcontractor dear
As fire service standby
To deliver school dinners
Who’s getting fucked over here?

Nice one, Cyrille

An early early football
Memory sticks
Silver small time screen
When the unfancied
Cup upstarts
Beat the fancy Dans
At the heart and
The head of this team
This fearsome gentleman

I’d no grasp at ten
Of what was black
And what was white
But when
The foul and factious was
Hurled
Back when
The boos and bananas were
Hurled
The mark of the man
They couldn’t mark was
To take that abuse
Peel the layers
Reveal truths hard
And with a thumbs up
A melting grin
Bite off it’s ugly head
Then from 30 yards
Put any game to bed

To lay the paths
For those
Who had the grasp
All too concrete
Of what was black
And what was white
Against all the hate
For all he’d done
Nice one Cyrille
Nice one

Die Lemon

It’s important to learn.
It’s important to learn
To shut the fuck up.
Your, like, faux student RP
Voice, slumming it in
Cheap chain
High street boozer;
Tax avoiding,
Brexit funding,
The clues are
Like
There?
You seem so, like
Aware?
Like all good hypocrites,
I’m only here
To observe.
Granted.
You are fuelling my hate,
You are hating my fuel.
Difference is,
I get it.
Do you?

Fried Slice

The sick baby smell
Is mixed in well
With the first-ish
Turkish pint of the day
The window is armour
Out to the prison wall
Tagged Victoriana
Today no drama no
As quick walkers
With kids enquisite
Pay visits pay dearly
Walk back slow as
Gangsters beamers
Flick tabs street ways
Behind flats of empty
Occupied
Last past near
Five and twenty
Dogs squat and release
Joggers sweat past
Transport police and
Knowledge takers
Plot perspex boards as
Indoors the
MTV selective asks
“What is love?”
Connective handshakes bruv
On wonky flags
Beneath standard windows
Bearing theirs
Crossly for
Welcomes frosty
Will prove
Costly enough
To never recover
But for now
Sisters brothers
In here
It’s mass
For an hour
Take the blood
Fuck the body
Though stained
It’s class
For an hour
‘Spite the rain
Indoors for
Another cold glass
No trouble
No strife no
Taken like
To hold down this
Fried slice o’ life

Lotta Bottle - a Tanka

Fully paid up
Water bottle carrying
Made member of the
Boring sod the planet, eh?
Advertisers dream brigade

Button Moon - a Tanka

We’re off to Button
Moon we’ve followed Mr. Spoon
Button Moon but on
Twitter oh my trending days
Say button it Mr. Spoon

Fruity

The flash arseholes
Have LED orifices
To tempt your
Fingers
Light touch or
Trigger happy
All in
It's dropping
He can feel it son
Day’s underage wage minimum
Done
Their’s always tomorrow
‘Cos abused appendages
Will have healed
To spunk
Again
Once more

The Vapors are Indoors - A Tanka

The Vapors are in
Doors the smokers out turning
On cold turkeys who
Go on to win the Japan
Ease new clear air tournament