Posts Tagged ‘poetry’


Percy Bysshe caught a monster fish,

And he brought it home to Mary.

Said she, “I just wrote Frankenstein,

Your foolish fish don’t scare me.”


The Fuck

Who fucked it?
My generation?
Your generation?
The Who’s generation?
The ones who want salvation?
Who cares, really, who?
Michael Jackson & McDonald’s
And your goddamn stupid wedding
Fucked it.
Every soul who didn’t stroll,
Got in a car or a plane instead of a train
The barrista fucked it too,
Serving you.
Me and my booze fucked it.
Existentialist fucking analysts fucked it.
Fuck it.
I’m writing fuckalot.
Fuck that too.
No, really, we love superglue.
It binds shit together,
Just like it was new.
And sitcoms and sometimes
A trip to the zoo;
And movies and art,
That sometimes get through
To the part that thinks FUCK
And says “Hey, fuck you too.”

The Words

Where are the words?
Not the assonance alliteration,
Rhyme or repetition.
The fine words.
I mean the words to say out loud to you,
Words that might be true.
Though, they’re just opinion.
I feel dumb.
Not allowed… by me.
Not able, face to face, to articulate.
An idiot.
Stupid and scared.
Where the fuck are those fucking words?

The Shit

Most that you write
It’s gonna be shit.
There’s a start & an end
& a SHITE! middle bit…
Most that you write
It’s gonna be shit.
But, that doesn’t mean
There won’t be a bit
Out of what you might write
That might just be THE SHIT!


So. Man?
You ran from a prostitute in Amsterdam
Back then.
And the idea of kids still scares you too.
Electric cigarette. Wham Bam.
Getting older
And a bit aloner
Long time man?
Boy girl middle age breakup.
No mortgage, not normal.
Day job fakeup.
Scares of not having
The things that normals bring
To the table of that
Boy, man, middle age wakeup.

Bad Meat Blues

Bad Meat Blues

Cheap meat chunks hurl down dark drains

Cramping on ceramic swearing never again

If it walks like a duck and if it smells like a fish

If it costs half a fuck magic bean dream wish

This is no bargain peppersteak dish

It’s the Bad Meat Blues

It’s the Bad Meat Blues

It’s the Bad Fuckin’ Meat Blues for who’s

Ever stupid enough to swallow the crap

That The Cat that launched a thousand plate raids

Loves a bad Chinese meal bin invade

Now can’t find the inclination to air a nose near

Full on tail flick feline disdain steer clear

Of the Bad Meat Blues

It’s the Bad Meat Blues

It’s the Bad Fuckin’ Meat Blues it brews

Nasty gastrointestinal drive-thru spews

Crusting to the innards of the bowl

So crawl & mince & bone & roll

Retch retch against the dying of the light

Bad Meat Blues uptight gut night

Das Krapital

We have simple solutions to complex problems,
And special offers on shop-soiled pogroms.
Loved up teens, drugged up queens,
Unspeakable, uneatable tins of killer beans.

There’s an imperfect present and an irregular past,
A melted sugar daddy with his trousers at half mast.
Former suffragettes smoking menthol cigarettes,
Ramekins, mandarins, a pixie and some elves.

We have a bust of Nero fiddling with his fiddle while Rome burned,
And the orchestra that played while the Titanic nudged her ‘berg.
Libertarian librarians, over eager with their stamps,
And a lovely Lux Interior, really rather good with Cramps.

Our prices really must be perceived to be believed,
And the invisible ink they’re written in is marvellous indeed.
We’ve got magpies in all numbers to cover every known event,
Endorsed by the office of births, marriages & deaths.

Imaginary sanitary towels for transvestites and
Computers made of pewter that are loved by all the luddites.
Solicitors and barristers- briefs of the utmost brevity,
Greek grammars which, admittedly, won’t provide much levity.

Mills and pieces, bits of weevils, olde timey handloom weavers,
Machines for executions and penal codes for beavers.
We have principal objections against the introduction
Of all the aforementioned and a vacuum with no suction.