Saturday, 28 November 2009

L

Dreams and screams and ice creams

A playfully sweaty pit minus the shit

Upon the first, the wee man was cursed

to drown in pools of green slime

from nowhere in time apart from mine

Boys will be boys and love to play with

titty toys. The second is no exception to the

misconception

A funny fuck with a little timid creature

only in a mind forging a

lusty affair with not one care

A videotape?

yes

and no

A groan

under shut eyes have shown what a hunger

there is. Rewind and

replay

This Mitchell?

What a scoundrel!

Wednesday, 25 November 2009

n

Frog spawn!
Stern John!
Present to me a match
of two halves and a wife
split down the middle!
Hey diddle diddle the cat fucked the fiddle
and the horse ran away
followed by projected images
from classic movies.
move thee. through tall breeze
and galore around a midnight car.
feast upon a round of cheese,
my my that's a fair pound of cheese!
carve it and starve it till the cupboard is bare,
then spank my bare bum! hair and snare!
Roll into bed and glance at the clock,
ignore time and instead
admire the craftsmanship
of the half-wit machine the pieced it together.
that's all time has become - just another element,
manufactured in china.

Tuesday, 24 November 2009

L

Good morning I said

Good morning he said

Not too long this one I said

Not at all he said

20 minutes I said

30 minutes he said

This is really funny I said

Fucking right they said

Not for me I said

Why not they said

Hello I said

Hi she said

Dirty kness I said

Yes please she said

Did you? I said

I did she said

Good night I said

Good night she said

Friday, 20 November 2009

C

Attenborough kicked the dog, it yelped.

Attenborough felt no need to commentate on this sorry transaction.

Tuesday, 17 November 2009

n

Staunch and wrought with self doubt,
I pre-prepared a cheese and ham sandwich,
reformed and performed at every stage.
I considered myself an oxymoron,
and set about contradicting myself.
I placed my mind on the worktop
and explored my piece from a multitude of new angles.
Hemiplegia set in and I half relaxed,
and half howled at my water-pumped cancer.

Thursday, 12 November 2009

L

peanut butter motherfucker!

i said,

peanut butter - MOTHERFUCKER!!!

L

my musky adornment,

mind of its own.

strings being pulled

by its proud head.

logical thoughts?

it is devoid of

these.


"what the fuck is

this"?


the baked clams were not going down well.

still, these were the least of his worries. all

he really wanted was a decent blowjob and a

good nights sleep.


Not this fucking shit.

Jesus!

Monday, 9 November 2009

n

Loneliness is inside the hat of an old man who has just fallen in the street.

Loneliness is the scum surrounding your fish bowl.

Loneliness is a bird sitting on a beach, watching a log swim in the tide.

Loneliness resides under your wristwatch, just out of sight.

Loneliness is at the bottom of a bottle, lying in a landfill.

Loneliness lightly covers your testicles and your anus.

Loneliness is in your lungs, your bladder and in the cutlery drawer.

Loneliness is indexed in last year’s phone book

and it’s getting louder

and you’re getting older

and you’re both getting closer,

to meeting one another.

Sunday, 8 November 2009

LC

dark
night and cold
air.

all our scenes
blossoming
into dusty
memories.

words have left
me, so i pass this
one
over

reality must have
hit right
home.
a home run,
they say.

run home you fool,
i'm making pan
cakes
and you're
all
out
of
eggs.

pre-made mix?
fuck
off.

one hundred and eleven is as
high
as she'll go.
cheap thrills merely cover
the
overwhelming despair.

what could you find
under
my nails?
baked
like a
tatty.
masses applaud
cheesy beans.

do this again.
don't,
who said that?

Thursday, 5 November 2009

n

gamble fuck!
you steal from me,
me with luck,
and a fuck ass
barmaid,
wooing and cooing and
sucking our pussies dry.
i know their game and yet
i fucked along with it.
extrapolate me and withdraw from me my money!
APR 6.5% and charge interest unto me.
interest? interest unto my wallet.
you crawlet,
i fuck your CUNT and mistaken your identity.
50 up
50 down,
fuck.

Monday, 2 November 2009

D

Get on,
get off,
get off.