Pointlessly Perfectly Pleasantly Pervades Purpose

He holds the object of his lust too close
When 'companied by his closest mate
Who feel the distance at this boring point
In an pointless pub and an England friendly.

The two feint like Gazza leaving patronising tones in their wake
And the defensesless on her backside,
For although
It is unsaid,
But all about that.

Mordern lads' with media hair
And bench-pressed weights to compare
Until their brotherly love is back
To being spread thinly like Philadelphia cheese on the gluten free toast of life,
By the Infadel of superficial beauty unavailable at 0% interest.

Preened cats having a six grand pork scratch
Pondering and trying before buying
The sap
In a badly converted forest
Where wolves stuck together once, honest
And only hunted when nessecary.

One confused woodpecker.
Two plaid-shirted loggers.

Wembley Way '66

Ah, this old London town.
The music,
The clubs
The girls!
Nah,
We have 'em back 'ome
They won't change my life.
This just bloody might...

Peak out a window
Wembley way:
"Staindud speciaw!"
Paper boy shouts.
'Pon the grass a boy of 9
Picks a pack
Of Players no 6.
Does the shake then
Arms out spitfire style,
Circles his cohorts,
Shouting "England!"
In his shorts.

Step outside,
This place, Christ!
More popular than Jesus!
As fan-sized ants,
Anaesthetised,
March the street,
To their queen's
Back-beat.

Wembley's towers:
Like 2 Pop-art legs wi'
Union Jack suspenders,
Straddle this
Royal factory that
Packs hopes and dreams,
Gives 'em the Queen's stamp,
Stuffs 'em in a Mini Van,
And sends 'em off
'Round the world.
Even in North Korea,
Everyone knows
Who WE are.

O! To be, respectably...

O! To be, respectably
Voting organicratically.
While slogans on the products be
Industrial tagged chic-ery.
Named by Co-op dictionary.
And yours for mere 6 grand fee!
You buy, so good, but not for he;
Who's budget is your nuts for tea.

All-in more togetherly,
Wrestling we bequeathedly,
Resting on 'wor Laurie Lee.
We wish we such could claim to be
Owt as worth t' humanity,
While gorging cheddar cheesily.
Crispy cutlet cutlery,
Wi' knives a ' thrown blindfoldely,
On unknown wheels territorially.
Advantage took now wombling free
Droning on mysteriously,
Bermuda-style trigonometry...
Chalk duster flies. Animosity!
But kills the kid, anonymously.

Sisters' brothers' Europa league,
Tables motions secondary:
To pay the teachers more to be
Pointing out necessity.
For this is what we finally
Glean, deserve, anti-socially.

"Pull out o' there" (expectedly)
England says, then we'll see.
But watch! The signs point eagerly,
For non-observance just could be
Some disaster-film shit-storm-ery.

Lest drain the water from t' lily!
Impression I get, habitually.
Impastoral Imperically
Gauche gouache used liberally.
Colouring blanks so messily,
Connecting dots of society.
We preen and flounce habitually,
Forgetting past grandmotherly
And aunties on the family tree.
For which we now extract the pee
And use for numb-skullduggery.

Alas, stone-type-set 'tis to be.
Deciders deciding, bawdily.
Tripping, stumbling, collectively.
Rumbling, tumbling, blindfoldely.
Tears of sorrow, hold our knee.
Scuffed and bust we are all be,
But, who loves and cares now matronly?

Me and this nurturing tree.

The Cat Gets The Cheshire Cheese

If mannequins were orange,
I bet you wished you'were'it.
If ankles could be pretty,
You'd see, you've missed a bit.
Your roller looks now shitty,
Wi' rollers top o' it.

F't petty sake still striding
Down t' long and petty road.
The drooping lipstick lolly,
Observing tarty code.
To shops wi' handbag doggy
To corner shop. Alone.

Flicking though a magazine in the tree surgeon's.

Them gnarled and twisted
'thritic bones
Point out skyward
'next t' people's homes
And finger through
All Goya's tomes.

They prick the sky
Wi' blunted digits
Awaiting surgeon's
Coffin kits, it's
Sapacios lids. It's
Busy business.

The View from The Packet Inn

Wi' t' looks of Vic n' Bob's
Uncle Peter,
He's the social-fucking-baro-meter.
Matted hair,
Legs walk past
His dog's-eye view,
One pair,
Smiles for himself,
Reminds him of Donna,
Before this blitz,
On frozen pavers,
Can no longer sitzen,
The strange ignore,
And sometimes spitzen,
Whilst dreams are raw
So, stop, take time,
An' fuckin' listen.

---

"It's cold" we cry,
It's cold,
She cries.
Dispaired of
These Samaritime
Museum Mannequins,
Gawping reflectively,
In their
Gap-windowed
Mind-the-ga
In their humanitarian
Gap-year educated
Boat races,
'Til rain, turns them to
Duck and cover
Camoflaging t' cries
Of someone's
Mother.

---

He,
Often wishes
His patchy fare,
Could be groomed
Like geezer's there,
But the fixed wheel of life
Allows, none of these
Pleasantries and platitudes,
He Angers up,
With their attitudes,
As one in a thousand does allude
To thrust a coin of a ten-bob hue...
But fails.
Plays busy.
Comes in for a pint.

---

Off the floor to walk around,
Past the old football ground,
Warm the feet, keep them moving,
Before they are involuntarily so.

Occasionally, he hears the roar
Of victory or lucky draw.
His old man once did tell him 'bout
Rental-shop-window tv crowds.
He ponders 'pon nostaligia briefly,
When life was beaten out 'im weekly,
In each round of the sweet FA cup.

---

Thrust into the gilded street,
Lily-White without the pictures.
Free-papered glimpse
At weekend fixtures.
He'll keep today's,
Might just need it.
Although,
He already knows the score:
Capital one.
Him
Fuck-all.

The Pallady of Dave Blighty

The grandiose chose well
'His' kleptomaniac
Their house of living swell
'Pon bricks of bric-a-brac
She confiscated bells
Whistles, they ne'er lacked
Till once a deathly nell
With bricks for boots, he asked:
"For why that I must dwell
In silken bag of cats?"
"The canal, my dear ain't well,
Gluttonous Brits it lacks".