Category Archives: Uncategorized

The Death of Jim Morrison’s Cock

 

Poetry died

When someone told it

To put on a suit and tie

And stoop

To talk

To children

 

Poetry died

The death of a thousand grant cuts

Deft manoeuvring for fresh funds

Whored out to education

 

Poetry died

When forced to wear a smile

For every state occasion

To trade an edge for a slice of the pie

Something inclusive for all the family

With nary a rude word in sight

 

Poetry died

Then died a little more inside

At every circle-jerk soiree

Where mumbling into

A shaking paper

Was rewarded with acclaim

Lauded for its bravery

Cited as an example

For others to do the same

 

Poetry died

When it ceased to criticize

Or bother indeed to raise questions

Enough just to elicit a fond smile

And a passing pleasant thought

As useful as a Facebook thumb

 

Poetry died

And dancing on the corpse

The establishment, of course

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Norman is an Island

 

There’s a foreign couple

Sitting at the next table

Germans, maybe Austrians

I don’t care where they’re from

I just know they don’t belong

 

How did this filth

Slip past the border guards?

Those stalwart British bulldogs

In their crisply pressed uniforms

Who line the white cliffs of legend

Ready to turn the tide back

From the bloated menace of Europe?

 

Did they come in canoes

Paddled in the dead of night

Guided by native stealth

And a single winking pilot light

Just like the injuns do?

 

Or did they stow away

In the back of a lorry

Were they disgorged

At random in a lay-by

Armed with rampant aspirations

A bundle of clothes

On the end of a stick

And a pamphlet

On how to claim benefits?

 

Did they crawl through the Tunnel

On hands and knees

Just for a sniff

Of Britishness?

 

Did they bribe and cajole

Tell a tall tale

Forge entry stamps

Escape from a camp

How the hell did they get here?

 

One of them looks like

He might be winding up

To stealing my job

If I didn’t keep an eye out

And wasn’t retired

 

My father’s father didn’t get

Mildly wounded in the shoulder

During an irregular rearguard action

For this sort of thing to happen

 

My mother’s mum didn’t convert

Without incident to Anglican

Because they serve better cakes

For this sort of thing to happen

 

My mothers’ sisters’

Best friend at school

Didn’t nearly get a bomb

Dropped on her bungalow

For this sort of thing to happen

 

My dads’ boss’s nephew

Didn’t inexpertly cut his throat

With a rusty penknife

In the lavatory block of his barracks

Whilst on National Service

After withdrawing a complaint

Alleging sexual interference

By a drill sergeant

For this sort of thing to happen

 

My great great granddad’s brother

Didn’t lose one wife

Under mysterious circumstances

And proceed to take another

Only for her to be executed as a Fenian spy

For this sort of thing to happen

So why is it happening, why?

 

My Viking ancestors didn’t

Charge off a beached longboat

Waving axes and foaming at the mouth

To burn down the local abbey

With all the monks still in it

For this sort of thing to happen

 

My lost genetic relative to Genghis Khan

Didn’t raze a Eurasian forest to the ground

And kill everyone in Siberia

For this sort of thing to happen

 

I’d have a word

Perhaps I should

But they wouldn’t understand

 

Look at them,

Smugly sipping

Their continental coffee

From tiny little cups –

They know nothing

About how we conduct

Our dismal English business

 

What was the point

Of my fractal family tree

With its sundry missing limbs

And many fallen leaves

If this sort of thing can happen?

 

Cuckoo

 

 

Always hangin round us

Cheap nasty little bitches

Crop tops and pointy tits

Cock sucking on cigarettes

High on my aura I guess

I show them propriate respect

Don’t mess with them

Cept for their heads

 

Leave the rest

To the little guys

Swarming round em like flies

Buzzing with testosterone

And no vacant hole to put it in

But every now and then

That special one comes along

Clickety clack on kitschy heels

To catch and hold my eye

 

Meg was one of em

Hangin sullen off the arm

Of eternally pissed-off Pete

So one day out the blue

I asked him her name

An he explained

She’s sister to

His best friend Stu

And still

Marginally illegal

At least for the next month or two

 

Stu and Meg cohabit

In a scuzzy little two bed flat

Fucked-up teenage siblings

Wrong side of the ring road and all that

Pete went round there to score dope –

 

Whoa said I, hold on there

Pete goes round theirs for weed?

He’s sposed to get his shit from me

Indeed y’all are

One of the rules

I take micromanaging seriously

You should know so by now

Or do I have to

Prove it with a pool cue?

 

Fuck Pete

And fuck Meg and fuck Stu

They’ve disrespected me

Which means they’ve disrespected you

They goin in the book

What happens to em now is my business

And I’m makin it yours –

Izzat a council house or private flat?

Don’t just stand there, go find out

 

Turns out it’s a council flat

But they don’t come round much

To check the alarms

Or do safety inspections and such

So I reckon we’re pretty cool

To hang there for the seeable

 

Dad’s off the scene

And the mum

Well she won’t be a problem

Not to anyone

Shut up in some kind of home

Fuckin tragic but wot can you do?

Which just leaves Meg and Stu

 

A bit of arm twistin

And it’s Pete’s foot in the door

And sweaty finger on the bell

Wiv me an mine close behind;

Gather us brethren

In the porchlight

And push our way inside

To drive our point home

In the living room

Punctuate

With bats an that:

If we have to come on hard

We’ll do it fast and make it sick

Like a swat team

From something off netflix

Thas wot we had planned

 

But we dint need to do shit

As I read the situation;

Stu and Meg backed in the corner

Pressed against the telly

55 inches man

HD Backlit OLED screen

Or something

I fuckin love that telly

 

Pulled a wad out my wallet

Flashed the knife at my belt

Made sure both of them saw it

Asked Meg nice for her purse

Pink spangly thing

Shaped like a heart

On a loop of plastic string

She hands it over, shaking

 

Here, she goes

Take anyfing you want

So instead I count out

Fifty from my wad

And flip it across

Watch her eyes

Roll back in surprise

Keep her purse of course

 

Get us some beers in

Stu and me an the boys

Got some serious

Business to talk through

Int that right Stu?

 

He’s noddin along

Like that toy dog from the adverts

Ohhh yyes,

He says

Ohhh yyes

Can’t keep his mouth still

Fuckin hilarious

 

Meg’s growing a frown

Anticipating failure

But I’m unn –

She starts and then she stops

Chops off the words

Her scraped bun makes her look

Younger than it should

Her lips blubber as she gulps

 

Plenty of time later for photographs

I say, shoving her out the door

Now move yer skinny arse

And the boys all larff

Like my wit’s uproarious

As stumbling up the road

Stu’s little sister goes,

Newsagent’s just

Round the corner

If she don’t

Break her ankles first

 

You know what you should do Stu

I continue

Slamming shut the door

To scattered applause

You don’t mind I call you Stu?

Pete said it’s fine

An you wouldn’t mind

An Pete’s like a bruvva to me

As pretty soon you shall be

Su casa me casa if you get me –

So what’s yours becomes mine

By dint of seniority

Thas basically

How this is gonna work;

We’ll share it like a real business

And bump fists over burgers

When your sister gets back

 

You oughta get beanbags in here

Then we can all sit down

Maybe put in a games system

Whatcha got on that?

Freeview? Pff

Sky premium package mate

Thas wot yer want

Got that at mine

Got the lot

We’ll sort it all out

When Meg gets in

 

Me an Pete an the lads

We’re yer best buddies now

I’m sure Pete’s told you

All about my crew,

Round here

We’re fuckin famous

Stop nodding

When I’m talking to you

 

Whatcha dealing?

Hash? Green?

Whoa man

That is a lo-fi setup

What the fuck is that?

Melted bike tyres? Tarmac?

It sure ain’t Afghan Black

Pete said weed

Dincha Pete?

 

You holding back on us, Stu?

Got anything maybe

You shouldn’t have on you?

Yeah thought so

What’s that, personal?

Don’t be rude,

Share out the green

We’re yer family now

And you don’t hide

Nothin from family

 

Carpet’s a bit crap

But it’s an okay gaff

Close enough to city central

But quiet too, you know?

Big respect for letting us crash

Guess maybe Pete’s in Meg’s room

To start with at least

But where you gonna sleep?

 

Couch’d make a comfy bed

Better yet beanbags like I said

Then you can really sprawl

But it’s your call, man

Your flat an all

 

Well, Meg’s too I guess

But then you have to be

Like eighteen or more

To sign off on

All that legal shit,

And her birthday’s what

Not till July yeah?

Not even hatched yet

Duckling she might still be

But she ain’t exactly ugly

 

Right little

High school princess

You got there

Must cost Pete

A pretty penny I bet

 

Speakin of expenditure

How much this doss cost yer?

Yeah? They’re rippin you off mate

State this place is in

It’s a travesty

But it don’t matter no more

Now we’re on the scene

Giz yer bank details

We’ll handle the rent

 

It’s just gone up

To recoup our investment

But yer benefits’ll

Do for the rest

Nuff for a makeover

Pimp yo flat the fuck up

We’ll take care of that

Part of the service

 

Mind you

I won’t say

It won’t cost you something

Somewhere down the line

Our protection ain’t free

We’re businessmen,

Why would it be?

 

No need to stress, Stu

It really don’t suit you

We’ll help you expand this

Into a cushty business

Puff powders and pills

With maybe a little bit

Extra on the side

We’ll make up some cards

They say it pays to advertise

And sex always sells

Am I right?

 

Getcha more punters

Than a runt

Like you deserves

 

So relax, sit down

You’re in capable hands

Like I say

Don’t worry about it mate

Long as you’re clear on the rules

And do things our way

The rent’ll come rolling in

At a steady stream

On an hourly rate

When our little

Nest egg matures

Elegy for En

I never dreamt

I swam to you

And sank along the way

~

I never stood

At a waters edge

And pledged there

My life to follow

Its fluid trail

Silvering me to you

On flights of stupid fantasy

~

I never watched the oceans boil

And thought of your self-authored turmoil

I never saw the frigid sheets of anglic rain

And paused to think of you in pain

~

I never stopped

To think of your sorry lot

On your bleached and fennel-fold rock

Garrisoned in some parody of love

And hundreds of klicks out of reach –

~

I fain to stretch so far

But acquaint myself

Of each and every failure

To light a path along the way:

~

I just don’t have

That kind of imagination,

I clutch for the right words to say

~

But give me a dark bun

Impeccably pinned and slinking past

The door of a certain coffee shop

And my shop-soiled heart

Starts soaring in my chest

~

Aglimpse of those again

That might look  at first

Akin to you

But are irredeemably not

Bowling for Conway

 

Those two guys just burst in

Rocking heavy tans

I think you know what I mean

Guns in hand

We all watched in dismay

As they blazed away

With the guns run from Alquaida

(Which is of course

The failed nation state

That straddles the gap

Betwixt Iran and Iraq)

~

The entire hall froze

A sea of shocked faces

Our brave young men

And smattering of women

Who’d just been chilling

With the great Yankee

Game of lawn bowls

Lay themselves down

On their desecrated lawn

~

Their patriotic blood overflowed

The gunnels where the big balls rolled

Strike One against our way of life –

Bullets ripped holes

In sole deodorisers

They leapt in the air

Rattled down among the slain

Burst like gas grenades

~

The world looked on

As our brave boys and girls

Went down like so many skittles

Dying glorious deaths

In ways the mainstream press

Now just won’t report

(I know I’m right, I checked)

 

* If you wish to contribute to the relief effort for this mendacious act of terror, please donate handsomely to http://www.bowlinggreenmassacrefund.com

How Torture Works

 Threaten to drill out my knees

And I’ll confirm my steamy relationship

With Nellie the Elephant

Describe each meaty impact

In lurid detail

Every startled bellow

Rendered vocally

To the very best of my abilities

~

Threaten to burn out my eyes

And I’ll describe my trip to Nibiru for you

How I travelled there on a passing thought

Using aborted babies as rocket fuel

And how the entrance to Planet X

Floats on a river of liberal tears

Just as you always suspected

~

I’ll tell you anything

So go on

Crack open the pliers

Ask me a question

 

 

Birthday Poem

 

Privy you to these

Sweeping statements,

Observations compiled

Over forty-four years:

~

Things that taste good,

Feel good, or smell good

Are generally bad for you

~

Green and brown

Are dull but healthy

Physical exercise

Is intrinsically horrible

~

Fairness is a

Uniquely human concept

It applieth not to Nature

Wellbeingness was

Never really a word

~

Nations can endure

Prolonged psychotic episodes

Trauma is followed by guilt

Which turns in turn

To history

~

It is possible to love

More than one person at a time

But impossible to reconcile that fact

Within one mind

~

Good people die young,

Evil thrives in

The vacuum they leave

~

Yesterday’s war will be

Tomorrow’s glory days

Something to fight for

But rarely ever won

~

Interacting in any way

With the environment

We’ve made is

Slowly killing us

~

Flags are just coloured squares

There can be no such thing

As an alternative fact

~

Words are often underestimated

The camera often lies

Art is entirely pointless

But pleasing, none the less

~

Malignant narcissism

Is a positive evolutionary trait

Ditto psychopathy

Less so benevolence

~

Religion is a control system

Chaos is always

The easiest available option

~

Entropy claims each of us

A foetus has less sense

Than an amoeba

And should factor not

In a woman’s choice

Unless it’s her choice

To factor it there

~

Evil is real

And must be fought

Wherever and

Whenever it appears

~

If you’re not frightened by now

There’s something very wrong with you

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Hell of a Thousand Virgins

Bits of me, everywhere

So bring on the virgins

~

The first is young and pale

she tremors and looks ill

I ask her what’s wrong

and urge her to sit down

she tells me she is nervous

this is her first time

then she flushes furiously

her lip quivers

then she breaks into a flood of tears

Gruffly I tell her

everything’s going to be fine

and clumsily I pat her shoulder

~

She jumps back like a startled deer –

Inwardly I sigh,

this is awkward

and so will be the next

and all the ones to follow

~

Next up is dusky and dark-haired

her eyes are wide

and as I soon see, terrified

Her face though flashes with hate

all of it aimed at me

pre-emptively

I dare not lay a finger on her

and she stalks away

with an audible ‘Ha’

~

A redhead emerges

Sporting an array of fascinating freckles

her face though is ash white

and her knuckles clench and unclench

as if she were

fighting monsters in her sleep:

This is her nightmare

I’m her monster

I cannot match that stare

Sheepish, I turn away

~

The next is tall and long limbed

but she won’t meet my eye

and she won’t shake my hand

‘Just get it over with’ she spits

and falls back

like a felled tree

right in front of me

yet nowhere to be seen

~

And so on

and so forth,

My personal conveyor belt

of reluctant flesh;

harrowing encounters

and hollow disappointments

in the hall of sobbing virgins