Another Right Royal Tanka

Give over at least

One palace/bed it's simple

Wartime language stops

'Cept these are field hospitals

And do not do not do not

Nirvana's First Release

with plastic duck-necked clout

germ free on the in

blue on the out

for all the face squealers

easy peelers

into your arms

feel us

Career Path

Job title:

Leaf Blower
⬇️
Royal Correspondent

Qualifications:

➡️Public speaking on the necessity of the giant wasp
➡️Conversion course in oil to hot air without sound loss
➡️Upskills for when something trivial crops, a tiny gust, to pop
➡️Weapons grade in invoicing cost
➡️Ability to show established dead matter who is boss

Kaffeeklatsch on Sedamplatz

Show yourself, you callous fuck… 

was his prod to the purposely blurry. 

How much the mostly guys, are costing us? He gob asked and head shook

to the smell of burning laughter as

another pointless shower counts the cost

of the part spun, half done brainwash. 

His requirements were notes on a pizza box 

and a dry cigarette, his adamants

felt the ease of their flaneurial disease

and in his boys' broken down urchin shirt, 

he saw bistro chairs snap over contract

with the air of permanent flair, normally reserved for the undeserved out there.

Keep off the Brass

In a brass neck romance,
you self-wind out
and then back in again,
'cos your glory morning
Seb Coe technique's
of more peak import
than fucking anything.

On the 451

On the 451 pieces of '81
Garfield shoots across the cornslips

The spark of the millionth
crash causes pot stir

as the Wednesday Whitmans
scope strip horrors in a blur

The sleepers cover faces
at Orient vs Rangers

and the programme note reads
1st page: I'm gonna miss me

Candid Dates

Vote for the candid
Date the leaders who aren't that
Into the crude noise
Of their bonce
For once

Late Night Momentanka

Love pickled chilli

Cig'rets poetry of heft

And redder wine left

Crap flapjack self-laced with choc'lot

All else can fuck right off

The Architect - A Book Title and Other Media Cut-Up #4

The architect's craft prospers

across the pond, alright. 

He closes the metal polish tin, 

sinks the rye, 

tips his small felt hat to

the long mood that looms. 

As calling birds

weed out the soft centres, 

the hive war's blank havocs

labour under cold dot tests. 

He buys a website: governmentmanspocketnutmeg.neveragain

He writes: Book the Summer Motel. 

Book the terrible flights. 

He finds the 'country girl' cover, live. 

He finds that sketchy neon superheroes

do the minimum. 

He writes: This Life is Wearing. 

Not a haiku #71

You've not read Pre-Tend?
Should read Pre-Tend. He's very
good this time of year.

Poli Tanka Walk

A walk down the street
Is akin to politique
The left's fine with us
The right we know all about
Beware that shifty middle https://t.co/PXMeVcpdE2

Gobwork Clock

Brace yourselves three times a day.

Do not wait for an appointment.

Salivate at maximum rate.

Don't buy mouthwash.

These socks will knock their ownselves off. 

This badge is kicking it right fucking out.

This hat is not a communist threat.

This protest is not a tick, cock.

This is not a wind-up.

These shoes may be bourgeois affectation,

But these teeth are mobile factories,

These fillings are miner's craft, 

This floss is weavers' work, 

This dance is diff'rent. 

Handed words tonguing flyered gums, 

Petitioned thoughts that breech, 

The dam of speech from

This damn mouth.

Clock it. 

This movement is fucking knockout. 

Midnight Cowboy

Kids across the way

In a Polish sort of way 

Are doing

What twenty years ago say

We did parky with

Sparks and swears

Your Mam jokes

Stokes us back

To youth

Language 

Tough on the out

Soft on the in

Behind tins

Near midnight bins

Are memories

To the midnight smoker

The exoticly familiar

Similar

To your doorway

Covert 

Observing

Pint sized clans

Brim with daft

And those who'd have it

Sin

Wrocław 2019

Clap tanka

As Maureen thinks it's
Monday now pans over used
Give an eight o' clock
An avian migration
Makes a V with wooden spoons

Take me Back

take me back to when

the bands’ width was narrow

cheeks were sharp and faces sallow

when the oars we rowed in calmer

waters were not for sticking in and 

points stuck less sticky then

where colours were nailed

where bouncers were nails

where paint was on nails

where walls were adorned

with paintings not arguments

where serious words forgot

song lyrics remembered ‘cos

we were made of rubber and 

bounced off pavements

stretched our necks

and necked in stretches

were stretchered off

to standing ovations when

the game was simple before

they changed the rules

took our haircuts

replaced dancing shoes

with grafting boots

swapped breezes with cares

cut from a heavier cloth

so take me back to when

the cap still fit

pints were pocket sized and

life was a piece of piss

Leg Up

He’s got a Dragon Stout

Bottle top in his pocket

Had a leg up in life

But he can’t

Cock it

Had the inch wide

Vent side

Done up to the top with

Coke in rum

Coke in rizla

A French parted

Saturday night

Of a rocket

Had the steel comb

Mirror shine

Mary Quant locket

Had a soul step peacock

In and out the shop he

Had a leg up in life

But he can’t

Cock it

The Harrow Cries of the Public Cats Tanka

Cough up the hacks the

Harrow cries of pub lick-cats

Lead on the snoop's list

Ne'ers fishing for meaning hooks

Read 'till they lose their herri

Ah Miss the 'ills

Ah miss the' ills

Their tawny sound

Ah miss the brill

That lamps on sods

'Neath 'brellas of sups

Ah miss the thrill

Of bartered

Pints back 'ome

T' tarns and torn

An' ev'ry

Witch does tell

Of mem'ry served

Still

While ten past

Aye

'Tis swell

(First Published in Pondweed - Greenteeth Press)

Ah Miss the 'ills - Urban Version

Ah miss the streets 

their brawny sound

Ah miss the drill

of freight train plods 

'neath trails of planes

Ah miss the quench

of hard earned

pints back then

An’ fuss and torn

An' ev'ry

snitch does tell

of mem'ry served

Still

while t' air is clear

an’ health be near

Aye

'tis swell

Sausage Exorcisms Tanka

Resplendent organs

Sharp in the hunting pulpits

Decree with sausage

Exorcisms for the staunch

And that's as far as we've got

WARTIME BULSHIT

PICK FOR BRITAIN

BRITAIN PICKED

NOW LOOK AT IT

Run to the Mills

The diploma mills did some light leafleting Adjusted by knobheads Forever were the dial analysts They cried for presents recognition money something They flared against these narrow-eyed optimists They plan hatched Chicken-ran under speed & collectively gathered their wrists