Thursday, 10 June 2021



         A BASTARD

         THE FUTURE'S


Wednesday, 5 May 2021

Two Two Glasglue


The Fluer de Lys sing a version of Circles, as her

long lens snapped at his. I didn’t put on my best for

this kiddy shite, the world is round the corner and man,

I want to hear the thud and bounce of ball on wall, an’ all

your doings are getting me soaked.


In this game, pigtailled charm, don’t cut it. You can

cast your heart if you like, but my trainers are spanking, this is

an orbit, in which I won’t admit, I want to glow too.

But, in these lines of best-fit, chewing on the words of others,

just makes me spew.

The Top 10 Things To Do In London's 4th Poorest Borough


How’s life in the smoke he said? I said, follow me –

We’ll greet the ex-drinker blagging a tab outside the boozer.

It’s all the aftercare he’s got. Where the old boys talk of when

Georgian was council, and the Irish pubs spilled out.

We’ll filter up the park, where those with gardens, write letters 

about those without. We'll bbq another dying library. 

We’ll trip the socially-cleansed churchyard, where the 

scaffolders stopped spitting on the homeless when the clips 

ran out. God, as ever, said nowt.

We’ll laugh at the bike-locked slippers outside the mosque, as 

the fella off the telly downs a miniature before the bus. There’s 

nowhere to sit these days for that amber buzz. 

We’ll refresh the commemorative flowers wilting on the site of 

another stabbing, on Supper street, by the cafĂ© elite. 

We’ll sidle the queue on benefit day, snaking the same 

stretch as a baker's dozen estate agent's. It’ll take five minutes.

We’ll add up fag packet road closures, times by cycle lanes, equalling 

a fine of 65.

We’ll picture the Prime Minister’s old house lying canny

in a row. 

We’ll gentry-push towards the Emirates, past her cries for a quid, past

another ex-record shop, past our masters in high-viz. 

For tender is the bid, they’ll tweet about who’s won.

We’ll ask the support officer about community, they'll say – 

you’re in Islington now, son.

Friday, 23 April 2021


"Tackling the stigma of relying on foodbanks"

Yeah, let's

normalise poverty, 

weave it in our walk, 

stich it to our shmatta, 

and strut it down the street. 

No shame in using foodbanks.

All of it's for those who voted for them. 

Friday, 16 April 2021

Tuesday, 30 March 2021

make it clear / they call it chaos

make it clear / they call it chaos

a wounded deer on the straight road

though the pines. low on fuel and signal.

crows survey the failing light. burger sauce

on a national trust map.

it is not

confusing / complicated / hard to navigate /

or make sense of / it is

straight forward /

we are not in chaos /

we have turned sharp right

you know of those / who drove it that way

your job is to make them


Wednesday, 24 March 2021

These warnings, are trusty

These warnings, are trusty


The workers are tired,

trapped with absolute terror.

Touchy wardens, are they.

Toyed with; artists, truly

taxed, worried and torn.


Try whimsical, after ten

totalitarian weekenders, a thousand

totalling wind-ups, against tinsel

titled wankers all tucked-up

toasty, within allibaster towers.


Theiving, wherever. All tokenistic.

Triumphing worthy altruistic tendancies.

Trust. We’re all tuning

to whatever airways, trading

tik with any tok.


Tories will always try

to wantanly alienate, to

totemically wrest, auto-tune tribalism,

top-down widespread allied tabiod

toss, whenever attitudes tire.


This, when actual tradespeople

turn willingly against themselves,

taking whatever acid treaties

they will accelerate tomorrow.

Think why, allus this.


Treat without all thoughtfuness

these words - and these

three-line whipped and tyranic

tuchusleckers will always triumph.

These warnings, are trusty.


Friday, 19 March 2021

Flagshaggers #1

The ghost of Stan Boardman illegitimately pigeon scraps over pellets of relevance in the rain smelted park, as the chalky grip of dibble dust dissolves off of his kicked-in teeth. #FlagShaggers

Minions Like Us






Thursday, 11 March 2021

to the objects

to the objects / oi you / yes you / you
dangling doyle / who likes to get phys
ical with y' arsehole-at-arms defense
technique / I will distill / till the fumes
knock y' sick / take a life-long look at
the large print writ / eye this up for an
insta / simple / DON'T BE A DICK 

Sunday, 7 March 2021

Down Where the Baggies Roll

I knew I’d be licking the sticky

floor with the rest.

It was writ large on

the flyer.

The bounce and pop gives

no pity.

Skirt spins look mag-nificent

from down here,

at least.

To catch a breather for

easier times, is

all I’ve got.

As shrapnel for the phone box,

my last,

disappears into

a sprung floor gap,

I blame the management.


Monday, 1 March 2021



the indoor pork-pie worked

virtually as hard as

grafting boots beneath

Sunday, 28 February 2021


covert coats ditched for the in-fight 

Excuse me, I am an apple


Do you need a horse?

I need a book

Are you listening to this man? 

I have small apples

I do not have more juice for you 

Our fish is wearing a shirt

Our duck likes water 

The dog does not write 

The man leaves mushrooms in the restaurant 

I am a horse 

I do not know anything about you

Your solution is impossible

Our generation drinks coffee

A decade is not a second

I remember this boring party 

Your generation is not good

I see my ceiling

I am behind the door 

It is because of you 

I am a horse

I am not going to the party because I am dirty

I am looking for a short, young man

Why do you have a job? 

I am an artist, not a policeman

I like my long socks

My violet plates are dry

Your green trousers are dry

I am a horse 

I am selling metal and plastic things

I am carrying a cat now

This is my enemy

If he drinks, I eat

I am not a good person

I am looking for a new group of friends

This cheese is completely green

This is not fear, this is hatred

An animal is not a thing

Blood is red like wine

Hatred is the cause of his failure

Where is my next bottle?

I am clean

I am not cheerful,

Even though I am drinking wine

The enemy of my enemy is my friend

They do not want you to play with something

His parents do not have a swimming pool

Is this really your family?

Usually I am not sad

I like my village

We cook in a different way here

The cat quickly cuts tomatoes

Let’s show him, who the boss is here

Why is he standing so far away from us?

You have blood on your hands!

We are from the foundation

Our society does not read books

Do rich people eat sandwiches? 

I do not like this dress, but I wear it

This is not my decade

I am still a policeman

I am somewhere here

I am a horse

Wednesday, 24 February 2021

a low hazard

a doormat volcano is
a piece of tomorrow
we eat permissions
for domestic use

fawning golf balls
sponsored by kwik koffin
find another starmer
costume drama

it's blue as fuck
i am Cov

After Volcanologist Diana Roman

before the storm we

eat cake wi' icing spreading

as if it were calm

the post-news telly erupts

the forecast proverbial 

Thursday, 18 February 2021

Friday, 12 February 2021

On Government

Skating the issue /

Garlands ungathered /

Remain perennial 

In wanton neglect /

The bluebell crowd /

Poke heads

The bite skips no-one

Wind cheaters run fast

Saturday, 23 January 2021

Watching Magpies


The disaster match narrator knows the drill boring left to right I draw a beard instead

Wednesday, 20 January 2021

Red Darren

 I sharpen my horse a virtual

   cowboy bluntly points out

      a real first-monther

Thursday, 14 January 2021

Streaming a Haiku

 fish breathe

first month rivers wide

not knowing 


or going