pubsticker

the halfscarfwankers biscuitarsed drinkfast to pasts while brass fucksoff in onetwofive paced plasticclass grasps at presents wrapped in clart and regard for footballdoneproperly has justa bout phonedoneinagain which

ain't too smart

Autumn 10s

Autumn stone's on the upstroke/ Hammond crack for me almanac

i am a photograph

 

Blue Star with Pliers

postwork

beerpicture

found

particular

profound

a theatre of bream on a bike

 

 

nice scarf she said

100% synthetic I said

like jubilee doors squeezed

from tubes to stop the falling 

 

queen that bloody pleabargain yeah

the review read four star and

the unleaded pencils tookover

the spencertracy takeaway 

 

noted the tuesdaynight breakout

grooved the spinningdicks cut south

waxing their extraneous gout

borders as guardas and pandered

 

nuns pistolwhipped the tripdown

the lane called st louis memory

sweetjazz had lost its charm

the theatreposters were all tory

 

the largeman in the toilet was

offering a goodkicking for a

quid sunderland snakes played an

eightbot game named fuckthehumans

 

the bikerace was won by a smartdog

who couldn't even spell the warondrugs

listless fuckers rocked frocks

with those who chose pegs fornoses

 

as the callingcurtain closed she shot

her glancingblow fucking sue me groovy

and the mice in his glassjaw

bared their arses to the world

 

oldham's finest flyover

 

flaming lamborghinis greet us

lizardgreen in the twitch of a

 

praha 64 dankhouse near the

wreck of debenhams, flowery.

 

tenstoried sixthformers, all plaidtrad or

pulpfantistic, in vaguely matchingsocks and

 

godfathergarb, nod the latest bongo

flavored indiehit, to whispers ‘bout blood

 

sharers. piccadally types, ten

bobeye flit with the offswitch of the

 

neveraging kickbouncer, us

eyelocked on the bab-eh-fut,

 

channelling exhibition #7.

as the indoorsmoke separates, that

 

fellaoffthetelly david icke, greybobs

through the methanic mist –

 

'scues me, where's the gents?

while high as the parakeet hotel,

 

eyes and digits are heaven lent,

an acousticidiot lumps a

 

marshall in the corner, and a

tinsign ads a soap box, in the event.