I saw God in the trees today
He sang as I passed by
A tune to sooth a tattered heart
And bid the soul to fly
He beckoned me to sing along
But I didn't know the words
It seems the Holy word of God
Is, chiefly, for the birds

**

Those who dwell too close to it
The light is all they see
And those who turn away from it
A shade is all they'll be
Although they stand as opposites
Not one of them is right
For it's best to stand in darkness
But look towards the light

**

Peter sought his merriment
While standing in the sediment
And fishing in his element
For something good to eat
He wasn't unintelligent
But suffered an impediment
Conversing wasn't eloquent
A stutter had him beat

One day, on the r-riverside
With hunger to be satisfied
And p-p-planning homicide
He cast his l-l-line
But bang he was immobilised
Attacked from the w-waterside
A giant p-p-pike astride
The struggling s-swine

The scene w-wasn't glamorous
The p-p-pike was amorous
The gossip would be scandalous
Someone might s-s-see
The struggle was c-clamorous
P-Pete was v-victorious
P-popped up like L-Lazarus
To f-f-f-f-flee

He promptly pattered homewardly
And cursing pikes internally
His hunger sat infernally
His hook remained unlured
The pesky pike had planned to be
Inside of Peter, rectally
To poke and **** him naughtily
But hang on..... he was cured!

When Charlie was a young'un with a crayon and some paper
He would scribble til the paper ripped and the crayon turned to vapour
His mother would console him and she'd offer her advice
But just to drive the message home, she'd loudly sing it twice

Follow the lines, my boy, just follow the bleedin' lines
Just pick a side and stay there, always follow the lines
If you're not a fool then fake it
If you show your spine they'll break it
Follow the lines, follow the lines, follow the lines

So when Charlie went to high school, how he tried to walk in stride
But the boredom of geometry provoked his naughty side
His professor would chastise him with a ruler and a cane
And, as an aid to memory, he sang him twice again

Follow the lines, young Charlie, you follow the blasted lines
Give it a try, you'll soon see, never cross over the lines
Don't be smart or play the joker
Aim for mainly mediocre
Follow the lines, follow the lines, follow the lines

When assembling a wardrobe with his Allen key and spanner
He threw himself into his task in an overzealous manner
So when he called his father to report a broken bone
His old man tutted ruefully and sang right down the phone

Follow the lines now Charlie, just follow the ******* lines
Don't improvise or gamble, why didn't you follow the lines
Dodge unnecessary ructions
And adhere to the instructions
Follow the lines, follow the lines, follow the lines

So in time, he raised a family, the lines etched in his head
One day he heard a buzzing from his aging garden shed
As he listened at the planking, how his face was drawn and long
For between the buzz and rustle, squeaked a tiny little song

Follow the lines, buzz-buzz, just follow the buzz-ing lines
Follow the bee before you, just buzz and follow the lines
Find the flowers when it's sunny
Fetch the nectar, make the honey
Follow the lines, follow the lines, follow the lines
Buzz buzz

**

A doctor who lost his dear wife
Took to probing the secrets of life
His intention was pure
Though success premature
Lead him quickly to trouble and strife

The notion popped into his head
To dig up the recently dead
With his stitching and knife
He created a life
Which promptly absconded and fled

He looked like the worst of mankind
But was blessed with a brilliant mind
He lurked in the wood
For as long as he could
But he yearned for the touch of his kind

To the doctor he went to proclaim
That his plight was of Frankenstein's blame
And he said he'd begin
To **** off his kin
Unless Frankenstein made him a dame

So the doctor stole bodies and stitched
With a frenzy, the man was bewitched
For his son would be saved
Once this woman, de-graved
Was alive and the monster was hitched

But a face at the window appeared
As his second success was neared
The creature was grinning
His eyeballs were spinning
In his trousers, a cobra had reared

So the doctor was filled up with guilt
And he tore up the woman he'd built
So the very next day
In a horrible way
His son was all strangled and ****'t

The doctor pursued his creation
Across countries with growing frustration
He went for a stroll
In the southern most pole
A long way off from civilization

The going was chilly and slow
But he finally caught up his foe
The creature was greater
He killed his creator
And buggered off into the snow

The End

A doctor who lost his dear wife
Took to probing the secrets of life
His intention was pure
Though success premature
Lead him quickly to trouble and strife

The notion popped into his head
To dig up the recently dead
With his stitching and knife
He created a life
Which promptly absconded and fled

He looked like the worst of mankind
But was blessed with a brilliant mind
He lurked in the wood
For as long as he could
But he yearned for the touch of his kind

To the doctor he went to proclaim
That his plight was of Frankenstein's blame
And he said he'd begin
To **** off his kin
Unless Frankenstein made him a dame

So the doctor stole bodies and stitched
With a frenzy, the man was bewitched
For his son would be saved
Once this woman, de-graved
Was alive and the monster was hitched

But a face at the window appeared
As his second success was neared
The creature was grinning
His eyeballs were spinning
He dribbled and lustfully leered

So the doctor was filled up with guilt
And he tore up the woman he'd built
So the very next day
In a horrible way
His son was all strangled and ****'t

The doctor pursued his creation
Across countries with growing frustration
He went for a stroll
In the southern most pole
A long way off from civilization

The going was chilly and slow
But he finally caught up his foe
The creature was greater
He killed his creator
And buggered off into the snow

The End

I almost bought some frog skin shoes
With sturdy rubber soles
Shiny green and mottled brown
With blinking eyelet holes
But when I slacked the laces
To try them on for size
The tongue shot up my trouser leg
And latched on to my flies

**

So promise laden, dormant lain
Neatly wrapped in cellophane
Freshly minted, new release
Pride of place and centrepiece
Glossy pages tempt the eye
Guns and girls in good supply
Grab something that’s quick to eat
Pop the disk and take a seat
A couple of hours hurry past
Scene is set and players cast
Villain always gets away
Hero vows to make him pay
Know what would be just as fun?
Stop chatting him up and USE THE ******* GUN
But no, then they proceed to dine
With another ******* TWENTY MINUTES of unrelated story line
Shooting people, picking locks
Run down corridor, crouch behind box
Hold down R and wiggle stick
Holster weapon, crouch and kick
You know what? I couldn’t care any less
Pause, Quit, Are you sure? Yes

Outside an average sort of house
Upon a quiet street
There stood a man of honest heart
All grim and weather beat
His face awash with bafflement
A letter in his mits  
With Lots of Love from God himself
And golden twirly bits

He'd read it over breakfast
Then read it on the loo
Considered re-addressing it
For number forty two
Within the silver envelope
In angel script, embossed
Were plans to build a massive boat
Materials and cost

It seemed, he'd have to build  it
As the letter looked legit
So off he sped, to B&Q;
To show the holy writ
The manager was confident
The price was mighty bold
Delivery on Saturday
For every item sold

So late, on Friday evening
He popped out for a walk
Upon his road, he drew a boat
In vivid yellow chalk
When morning dawned, a knocking
And some paperwork to mark
For a thousand tonnes of timber
For construction of an ark

He set out with his hammer
And he smote the nail and tack
By afternoon, the road was blocked
With traffic tailing back
A keel was just discernible
Beginning to take form
By evening, the media
Was whipping up a storm

Up marched a bold reporter
From the Three Times Weekly Herald
He said "So you'd be Noah then?"
"Not me" said he "I'm Gerald"
"I got this 'Oly telegram
And God has chosen me
I fill a boat with wildlife
And sail the salty sea"

By night he was a laughing stock
On YouTube and the news
But a sturdy man, was Gerald
And most vehement in his views
When asked to show the letter
He graciously refused
"Just have a little faith" he said
"We'll soon see who's amused"

The church were being skeptical
And held the press at bay
The Council sent him letters
At a rate of four a day
The hull was soon completed
And he laboured on inside
Constructing some amenities
To house them on the tide

A swimming pool for waterfowl
A wall of rodent wheels
With bowls for every kind of fish
And a big one for the seals
A filing box for butterflies
To stow them all away
A pigeon hole for pigeons
For the bees , a large bouquet

A puzzle for the monkeys
A wardrobe for the moths
A lion for the antelope
A jacuzzi for the sloths
A fully fitted nursery
For when the ewes had lambed
The wasps would have a picnic
And the beavers could be dammed

Through night and day he toiled
He relieved himself in shifts
In time, he built a sauna
And a pair of turbolifts
The council grew impatient
And the neighbours were in fits
They begged him to remove his boat
Entire or in bits

Then promptly, after dinner
As he sat upon the deck
There called a suited doctor  
With a badge around his neck
There followed many questions
With a host of funny looks
While outside went from 'fine and warm'
To 'just the thing for ducks'

That night, began the deluge
So Gerald found his crew
He robbed each local pet shop
And attacked the nearest zoo
Collected every animal
And fastened them in tight
The waters coursed along his street
As dawn replaced the night

'Twas then a thought occurred to him
A kind of mental swerve  
His road was more a crescent
So his ark was on a curve
But just then the currents took him
He sailed off along the bend
For six weeks, going round and round
To land at home, The End

**

Scratching through the pictures
Of a life he left for dead
Venomous the rhetoric
That runs around his head
Doomed to live in circles
Oh, his aching spine
Bitter Glynn Capacity
Limps the line

Complexion of a heart attack
The waistline of a barge
The bottle always empty
And the portion extra large
Panting on the staircase
Leaning on the rail
Wheezing Glynn Capacity
Looks quite pale

Rattling the cutlery
Quivering the hands
Addled by his impotence
No one understands
Deathly are the beads of sweat
Converging on his brow
Broken Glynn Capacity
Not long now

Before the time of humans
When the Earth was bare and new
As the sand was poured along the shore
And the sky was painted blue
A single breed of creature
Had dominion of the land
God’s chosen kind: The Turkey
To adhere to his command

They fluttered forth and multiplied
Quite fruitful, they became
They fornicated day and night
Each downy chap and dame
And God was not too happy
“Now hang on just a minute
I said that you should multiply
But, ******, there’s a limit”

The Turkeys gobbled ruefully
For lack of hanky-panky
Until, up stepped a noble fowl
By the name of Lance the Lanky
He stood at least a meter high
His beak was sharpened weekly
The Lord appeared unto him
“Yes ,Lance?” He ventured meekly

Lance stuck out his mighty chest
And issued his demands
For he couldn't get his rocks off
And was quite bereft of hands
“My Lord, I want some nookie
And this abstinence is shocking!
I’m not the kind of feathered ****
To tolerate a blocking”

The Lord rolled up his baggy sleeves
“Now quit your ****** prattle
We’ll settle this the proper way
Prepare yourself for battle!
Name your choice of weapon”
“I will!” responded Lance
“We’ll settle on a victor
Through the medium of dance”

So God moved on the firmament
And Lo! In flashing squares
A dance floor, he constructed
And around it, tiny chairs
The turkey folk assembled
As the Lord and Lance prepared
And to the beat of Tiger Feet
The dance-off was declared

Lance stepped up and Tap-danced
For birds, a skillful deed
He clicked and clattered flawlessly
And took an early lead
But God was quick to counter
With a cheeky little Rumba
The music changed at His command
To a Shakin’ Stevens number

Lance tried Paso Doble
But he made a major blunder
He put his feet too far apart
And Lord God Limbo-ed under
They formed up for a Charleston
The audience were wowed
Then tangled in a tango
Turning circles for the crowd

Their Salsa was spectacular
The Cossack dance was kickin’
So Lance pressed his advantage
With a faultless Funky Chicken
The scores were near identical
For the Foxtrot and the Jive
God had racked up forty three
And Lance had forty five

The Harlem Shake was noteworthy
The Lap Dance, indescribable
The scores were kept by seraphim
Reputedly unbribable
Endlessly, they boogied on
They threw the Highland Fling
But crisis! Lance tripped over
And he sprained his mighty wing

God was named as champion
And not the least bit pleased
The Turkey Folk were banished
Their nests and corn were seized
Then God made just two humans
And to save himself some grief
Instead of genitalia
He gave them each a leaf

He made for them a garden
With a host of fruit and veg
He bid them “See just yonder
“Behind the garden hedge
That’s where I keep the Turkeys
And each ****** one's a sinner
So gather sage and onions up
I’ll show you what’s for dinner”

Shuffling sidewards
Off he walks
Heavy black trenchcoat
Eyes on stalks
Custom trousers
Eight legs wide  
Henry the Half-Crab
Woe betide

Awkward scrabbling
Can't hold keys
Narrow little doorway
Tangled knees
Toilet adjustments
Bean bag chairs
Henry the Half-Crab
No one cares

Can't be an astronaut
Never play guitar
Can't use a keyboard
Won't go far
Hiding from the fishermen
Far from shore  
Henry the Half-Crab
Somewhat raw

On the deck of the HMS Randalls
Were sorry array of antiques
They would amble about in their sandals
To a chorus of ominous creaks
The crackle of bone upon gristle
With a litany grumbled above
Just give them the slip
If you feel a grip
Like a handful of dice in a glove

In the galley of HMS Randalls
Where the tables were ******* to the floor
There’s a chef with a dwarf where his leg was
He was bombed in the Argentine war
If you ask him about his ‘prosthetic’
He just winks and he taps on his nose
But the dwarf will admit
That they make a good fit
And a noteworthy total of toes

At the engines of HMS Randalls
With her overalls smeared with blood
Stood cannibal kind of mechanic
By the name of Veronica Spud
Her hunger has never been sated
Or her eye been the source of a tear
Her teeth have been chipped
Into screwdriver tips
And a spanner protrudes from her ear

On the bridge of the HMS Randalls
Sits the captain, Geronimo Spent
His unblinking and pallid expression
Say he left but he never quite went
But he puts on his hat and his jacket
He fastidiously logs his report
With a secondary list
Of the passengers kissed
As he figures that life’s too short

**

The oxygen tastes so familiar
I’m sure that I've breathed this before
The day trickles in through the curtains
The draft shuffles under the door
The sunlight ambushes my pillow
And forces me further a field
The cat at the door wants his breakfast
The bells of the church are all peeled
But there's little to gain by awakening
To remind me of all that I miss
When I hold you its like you're a statue
And you push me away with a kiss

The cars rattle by on their business
And the postman enrages the dog
The wind asks around for directions
And leaves all the shutters agog
My quilt is beginning to stifle
And my neck, with a threatening creak
Gives a preview of oncoming headaches
In a language too easy to speak
But uncomfortable I persevere
With a risible snore and a hiss
Because soon I'll turn over to face you
And you'll push me away with a kiss

You annoy me very little and I hardly think it’s fair
To place a box of scorpions beneath your favourite chair
I so enjoy your snoring and your dodgy thyroid gland
I don’t stand at your bedside with a pillow in my hand
Your laughter doesn’t make me twitch or sound like mating seals
So I won’t be crushing any glass to sprinkle on your meals
Adorable, your litany of whys and wheres and ifs
I’ll not be booking holidays near isolated cliffs
I love your lack of empathy and sullen, lifeless eyes
No need for poison pancakes or exploding custard pies
If ever you should doubt, my love, the way I feel for you
Recall this host of nasty things I’ve managed not to do
Thus far…

If my eyes were only blue
I’d have lived another life
I would exercise and diet
Even use a fork and knife
I’d reside in higher circles
Be a black belt in Kung-Fu
Then I’d water-ski for Britain
If my eyes were only blue

If my nose was independent
Like a pink nomadic slug
It could slither underneath my eyes
And give my ears a hug
I’d never need a smoke alarm
Nor microwave attendant
It could wipe itself without me
If my nose was independent

If my feet were only crocodiles
The world would be at peace
I’d drift along the riverbanks
While mutilating geese
I’d never buy a pair of shoes
No pedicures and files
I’d need a special toilet
If my feet were crocodiles

**

If humankind was just one man
His house would be the world
He'd live on only takeaways
The curtains never furled
His clothing would be shabby
Just a mess of cloth and strings
But on his little finger
Are a dozen diamond rings
The body might be starving
But the pinky hoards its gold
The hunger could be ended
With a single diamond sold
The kitchen could be mended
The gloom made slightly brighter
That's not the pinky's problem
So it holds on even tighter
It hires the other fingers
And one adjacent thumb
To stab the legs repeatedly
And beat the kidneys numb
The body starts to waste away
And much to its surprise
Along with every other thing
The little finger dies

“You should never lick a sparrow”
Said my father, one fine day
“The same applies to Guinea fowl
And several birds of prey.
When you’re older, please remember
For I’ll not always be here
That climbing trees and licking birds
Is not a good idea.”

Yes, I am an island
Though not of rock and stone
I contemplate in solitude
Anticipating every mood
The distant sound of ships at sea
Are lulled into a melody
It’s not that I’m avoiding you
I like to be alone

Yes, I am an island
I battled for and won
The muted roar of rolling thunder
Hardly moves the breeze asunder
Sharks in ties with silver tongues
Berate the shore and dream of lungs
There’s not a cloud in sight
For I’m an island in the sun

It crawled in through my ego
And prickled down my back
Muffling my senses in a symphony of black

It spoke in stolen echoes
Of a long abandoned place
Engraving Its design in every line upon my face

It sought to gain a purchase
With reason, Its disguise
A caution to be on my guard and not to trust my eyes

It locked the door behind it
Then melted down the key
And when It sat in full command, It changed Its name to Me

Jane the economy toaster
Was cheap as appliances go
Her unpolished sides were all greasy
And as grey as suburbanite snow

The edge of her slot was all melted
And her tray was encrusted with crumbs
Her lever was missing a handle
And would nibble at fingers and thumbs

She lived at the back of a cupboard
With some rusty old pans and a spider
In the gloom she would dream that somebody
Would hammer a muffin inside her

That some special son-of-a-baker
Would fill up her dusty old holes
With croissants and baguettes and bagels
With waffles and tea cakes and rolls

But alas with her family broken
The whisk and second-rate kettle
Her owners replaced the whole set
With something more classy in metal

And so in her murky wee crevice
She wept and she twiddled her ****
She twitched her lever with envy
Of the toaster that lives by the hob

Jane faded away and she vanished
But in silicone heaven she boasts
That she's Jane the economy toaster
The maker of muffins for ghosts

Strolling about with the air of a breeze
She weaves through the leaves and the boughs of the trees
While sunlight is dwindling, shadows advance
But she casts them behind her and leaves them to chance
Nought but a speck with a filament crown
Jessica Thistleton, born of the down

Young Jim Wraparound
Thought he knew it all
Trophies in the dining room
Medals on the wall
Never missed a day of school
First in every test
Trust Jim Wraparound
He knows best

Big Jim Wraparound
Often on the phone
Clincher of the contract
Sentiment of stone
Psychopathic tendencies
Lacking in remorse
Dodge Jim Wraparound
Switch your course

Mean Jim Wraparound
Withering in age
Pinching from the pensions
Stifling the rage
Shouting at the family
Beating on the wife
Wrong Jim Wraparound
Change your life

Old Jim Wraparound
Jagged at the edge
Blinking at the vortex
Leaning on the ledge
Murdered for his legacy
Karma often hurts
Dead Jim Wraparound
Just desserts

A chap from the Isle of Wight
Took pleasure in creatures of flight
With bread on his hooks
He went fishing for ducks
Because chickens aren't nearly as tight

“I tire of this kitchen”
Said the toaster to the lamp
“The décor is abominable
And the walls are always damp”
“It’s worse for me though, surely?”
Said the table to the toaster
“There’s seven cups upon my back
And not a single coaster!”

The chairs, they scoffed in ridicule
“You think that cups are bad?
We always get the **** holes
And we’re lucky if they’re clad!”
The washer/dryer twitched its door
“And where do you suppose
They put their ***** underpants
And heaps of mucky clothes?”

With a flicker of its light-bulb
The lamp took centre stage
“Look here now, we’re all upset
And worse for wear and age
But when you’re feeling sad and glum
And need to find some cheer
Remember that it could be worse
You could be from IKEA”

Gene and Jenny Taylor
Had long been man and wife
But a heinous disagreement
Took a hold upon their life
For each bemoaned their tackle
It was Gene who started first
He justified why dangly bits
Were easily the worst

“They tangle in your underwear
And twist themselves about
If I sit down in football shorts
They try to wriggle out
They chafe on nearly everything
They’re difficult to dry
And when it’s hot an humid out
They’re welded to your thigh”

Jenny swiftly countered him
“Well ***** are surely worst
For shaving is laborious
And not all lips are pursed
The periods are painful
With a week of aggravation
And we use three times the toilet roll
And cause deforestation “

But Gene had more to muster
“Well the ***** is a *******
And hiding an *******
Is a skill each man has mastered
They lead us into jeopardy
They always take the ****
And first thing in the morning
They’ve a tendency to miss”

So Jenny said “Vaginas
Are a curse between the thighs
And lady bits look monstrous
To anyone with eyes
They’re prone to thrush and fondling
And embryo gestation
***** are only any good
For use in aviation”

Gene and Jenny caught their breath
The stalemate was called
For genitals, the lips and *****
Or **** and hairy *****
Are vital to our species
More useful than they seem
And you’ll see a marked improvement
When they’re working as a team

I feel I might be missing
There’s a shadow in my place
I’m told he looks a bit like me
But hollow where his heart should be
Just seek him out, it’s plain to see
He’s mainly empty space

I fear I may be falling
As I’ve failed to find the ground
We parted ways, a bitter feud
And nothing further soon ensued
I gained a lot of altitude
In just a single bound

I feel as though I’m wearing out
Reserves are running low
Each passing hour I lament
The waste of every second spent
They tumble by without relent
I’m caught up in the flow

Lucky Leonard Letsbe
Doesn’t have a care
Shopping for a futon
Fussing with his hair
Suddenly, commotion
People running scared
Poor Leonard Letsbe
Unprepared

Leaping Leonard Letsbe
Running like the blazes
Smoke inhalation
Cuts and grazes
Sheltered in a bistro
Bitten on the ear
Silly Leonard Letsbe
Feeling queer

Dying Leonard Letsbe
Twitching for a while
Sitting bolt upright
Dead man’s smile
Chewing on a trucker
Right where he sat
Hungry Leonard Letsbe
Havin’ some of that

I've had my fill of llamas
And of all the woes they bring
For though they stop by frequently
They never say a thing
I find it rather ignorant
That a humpless dromedary
Should force on me its company
But not its commentary

I'm getting sick of llamas
My nights are fraught with dread
They wait until I'm fast asleep
Then bounce around the bed
My slippers smell of llama dung
The carpet's had its day
My house is getting crowded
There's a new one every day

I just can't move for llamas
They're piling up in drifts
Relentless in their appetite
I'm feeding them in shifts
I have to clamber over them
To get to anywhere
Would anyone like a llama?
I would simply love to share

I really can't stand llamas
The ******* just don't quit
And if they don't get their pop-tarts
They've a tendency to spit
They multiply quite rapidly
Devoid of conversation
I think I'll have to leave them
And resume my medication

**

The moon passed me by
on its lazy patrol
Disturbing the stars
In their ebony bowl
As if all creation
Was carved into coal
I looked to the sky
And it swallowed me whole

Young Karl Marx
Prowled the commons and the parks
In the darkness he would ****** with the lasses
Using tenderness and stealth
In his bid to share the wealth
With the working and the lower middle classes

Sown as corn at little cost
And doomed to bloom amid the frost
Struggling through frozen earth
Weak and withered after birth

Swaddled up in soothing lies
With jingles as our lullabies
Numbered at our fledgling breath
Weighed, tagged and worked to death

Grown into a paper mould
With ball and chain of solid gold
Impotent to break or twist
The wireless shackle about the wrist
Conform, obey, do not resist

A silken blindfold binding eyes
To hide corruption on the rise
While noblemen with scented whips
Peddle lies from fattened lips

Voices raised in honest fear
Are drowned before they reach an ear
Just watch the screen, rapt, unblinking
Television does your thinking

Accept the credit, pay the debt
Take the chance and make the bet
Tow the line and wear the tie
Heckle the honest, praise the spy

Apathy has your gullet gripped
And leather fingers, sugar dipped
Have slipped on over zealous triggers
Suppressing freedom, defending figures

Chemical fed and bred to serve
Dry of tongue and numb of nerve  
Right and wrong have merged together
And apathy, our chosen tether

The beast is neutered, caged and tame
The sinews of defiance, lame
Wash down pills with poison water
Disregard the silent slaughter

Slumbering as lions of old
While politicians growing bold
On plundered gains and stolen lives
Until their reckoning arrives

For once again the lions stir
And shackles fall from ancient fur
Beware the people, stay the whip
The masque of apathy must slip

Rise up, lions, sleep has passed
With every lie and bullet cast
A revolution overdue
We are still many, they are few

**

There’s an edge on the air
With a taste of despair
There are shadows where sunshine should be
And a tinkling sound
From the frost on the ground
Lends a sparkle to all that I see
The colours are deep
And the bees are asleep
The drizzle is clouding my eyes
So bare me away
To a place I can stay
Where the seas are as blue as the skies

Such a terrible thing
With the geese on the wing
And the sun barely over the trees
There’s a nip to the night
When the wise take flight
As their noses and fingertips freeze
My intention revealed
With a voice I’ve concealed
A lament which I sing to the sun
So take me from here
To a distant frontier
Where the races are yet to be run

With a trembling hand
At her chilly command
And her eyelashes beaded with ice
The winter assails
With her icicle nails
And a sound like a rattle of dice
The windows are barred
The dog’s in the yard
And the horse is all warm in the stable
So carry me past
Where the shadow is cast
To where breakfast is fresh on the table

Dennis was a citizen
A denizen, a resident
Of somewhere near a motorway
A hideaway most opulent
Ensnared amid the railway
And trail ways for motorcars
A haven from the modern day
The takeaways and trendy bars

But shattered in the summer morn
His rest was torn by hammering
Invading what was once inert
So to his curtains clamouring
He banished each to either side
He threw them wide with knuckles white
And saw in front of his abode
Across the road, a building site

A certainty within his mind
Did slowly wind his purpose tight
And with a grim determined jaw
Across the floor he took to flight
Descending stairs without a care
His morning hair resembling
A dandelion set to seed
In need of disassembling

He strode across his dining room
And snatched a broom which lay by chance
Against the table by the door
And held before him like a lance
He mounted his beloved bike
A cycle like no other made
And on a builder set his sight
With all his might and unafraid

He charged his foe at quite a rush
And with his brush, the builder smote
And leaping from his trusty steed
He did proceed to stop and gloat
Before resuming in his spate
The builders mate did turn and run
To raise the dragon, JCB
It roared with glee and wheels spun

So Dennis, though his ears resound
With just the pound of noble heart
Did firmly stand and face the beast
His brow was creased and feet apart
He struck the creature savagely
And stubbornly with just his head
And that, according to the news
Was what the paramedics said

The End

Ladies and gentlemen, stop and behold
Bid farewell to shingles, to gout and the cold
And a mighty assortment of general malaises
From cranial trauma to scratches and grazes
Your bones will be mended, no need for a cast
With acute tonsillitis consigned to the past
For I bring you a medical miracle cure
And the name of this potion you’re sure to procure?

Doctor Morcomb’s Tincture
From the institute of Scarborough
With a measured twist of alchemy
And three lumps of macabre
A drop or two will beat the flu
Retracting recent sneezes
Buy Doctor Morcomb’s Tincture
For all manner of diseases

Pungent red syrup can clearly be spied
Past the decorative label adorned on the side
A drop eases aching, a second for pains
A capful should rapidly unblock your drains
With daily consumption, whilst not recommended
The length of your tongue will be vastly extended
Avoid naked flames, never jiggle or jolt
Keep it cool, in the dark, in a circle of salt

Doctor Morcomb’s Tincture!
Most marvellous of potions
Farewell to bitter tasting pills
To liniments and lotions
Take only by the moonlight
And in arms reach of a swan
Now buy as much as time affords
By sundown, I’ll be gone

I'm running low on cornflakes
Their box lies on its side
And huddled in the corner
The surviving flakes abide
There used to be a multitude
My bowl was seldom bare
I wasn't even hungry
But I ate without a care
A few fell on the worktop
I just brushed them to the floor
Breakfast seemed so fancy free
There was always plenty more
But now there's just a single bowl
Until my bank is bust
And about a third of what remains
Is crunchy bits and dust

There's a fella you've all heard of
From a sandy foreign place
He was sent down by his daddy
From somewhere in outer space
He died and he came back again
Then he hit the dusty road
Now he's there for me with a helping hand
When I've almost dropped my load

Jesus is my barman
I munch his salty nuts
He fills me up with lovin'
Till it rumbles in my guts
He's my one almighty Hoover
He ***** off all my sin
To all my tricky crevices
He bravely enters in

He eases through my tightest spots
He's always got my back
He lubricates my passage
Down the narrow winding track
He tinkers with my plumbing
Removes my stubborn stains
Then with his holy implement
He firmly rods my drains

Jesus is my bell-boy
In his elevatin' craft
He pushes on my button
Then he takes me up the shaft
He's my fire fighting saviour
When flames begin to roar
He grabs his mighty helmet
And he breaks in my back door

He's captain of my ******
Commander of my boats
Don't worry if you're sinkin' fast
Cos Jesus always floats
If you're cold and need to light a fire
The lord is right and good
There's one thing he's remembered for
It’s always having wood

Jesus is my dentist
He drills me with his bit
He fills up all my cavities
Then I gargle and I spit
And one day when it’s legal
We'll end our secret fling
With his ring on my finger
And his finger in my ring

The news will say we're suffering from excess immigration
That a rampant hoard of foreigners has fallen on our nation
But truthfully, there hasn't been a native Briton here
Since people dressed in mammoth skin and hunted with a spear

Our language is a mixture of a dozen different tongues
We munch our way through poppadoms, fajitas and fu-yungs
When cheering at a football match, we're infamously vocal
Our teams may be the finest but the players won’t be local

Genetically, a Briton is a multi-cultured stew
With Romans, Saxons, Vikings and the Celts, to name a few
Our national drink is Indian, the Germans make our beer
The TV comes from China and the table from IKEA

Potatoes from America and onions grown in Spain
A multitude of British things arrive by boat and plane
The rain that falls upon our hills has blown from over seas
And with it come migrating birds to nest in British trees

The Royal Windsor family have Greek and German genes
So think about just what it is that being British means
We're stronger with our differences, the best of humankind
Our nation, not an island but a common state of mind

My nose is out to get me
It’s giving me the fear
It sneaks about when I’m asleep
And whispers in my ear
But when my eyes are open
It’s clearly in my sight
I think I’ll have to stick it down
With Sellotape at night

My nose is pitched against me
When ever someone bakes
It drags me by my helpless face
And points me at the cakes
It leads me into trouble
And I’ve no choice but to follow
It has a lot of pulling power
Although it’s two-thirds hollow

My nose is trying to **** me
I think it’s lost the plot
It sometimes sits there dribbling
And twitching on the spot
It scowls at me with malice
And it’s evil nostrils flare
My nose is picking on me
And I'm slowly going spare

In a nook at the edge of the water
There’s a spot where the rules don’t apply
Where the sun always rises behind you
And the land doesn’t meet with the sky

At night, there are stars in the treetops
When the moon washes up on the shore
And the air has a curious flavour
That you’re certain you’ve tasted before

There’re pelican-gophers a-singing
While the bees and the ladybirds dance
By jumping and flapping your elbows
You can fly by the seat of your pants

It’s a perfect location to visit
Though you might find it tricky to find
In a nook at the edge of the water
In a space at the back of my mind

**

Twenty years ago today
I met a man at sea
Though I was standing on the dock
Aboard a boat was he
With he on sea
And me on land
I found it hard
To shake his hand
So twenty years ago next week
I stood trial for manslaughter

No room for me beneath the tree
With leaves obscuring all I see
A gentleman must sit and browse
No room for me beneath the boughs

No place I've found on open ground
No aging log in sunlight drowned
To rest my legs, to ease my pains
No place for me upon the plains

No spot in town to settle down
A concrete smudge of dark renown
With footsteps to a thousand beats
No spot for me on city streets

No home for I, up in the sky
Or cloudy nest on feathered high
To dither by with fancy free
Up in the blue, no room for me

No comfy place in outer space
Just rocks at meteroric pace
No aliens in cosmic cars
No space for me between the stars

I'm running out of options fast...

When I’m a normal person
And I’m sure I think I can
I'll down my daily dosage
Like a mediocre man

I'll shuffle in my slippers
And I’ll own a dressing gown
Residing in a suburb
Of a standard little town

I'll hanker after gadgets
And mosey with the crowds
My clothes will be as colourless
As January clouds

I'll dabble in the markets
And cross my daily words
I'll cut the grass and trim the hedge
And mind I feed the birds

I'll always watch my language
I'll **** instead of ****
Enjoying ordinary days
Forgetting who I am

I'll burn away my being
For the mighty human hive
Existing on the borderline
Not dead but not alive

I've owned a host of curios
And trinkets in my day
Acumulated gadgets
And devices in array
But one singular item
Has remained a loyal friend
I'm positive I'll have it
Til the very bitter end

I've nothing in my pocket
I've had it from the start
And though I try to run from it
We're never far apart
When everything goes rotten
If life leaves me bereft
I always have my nothing
My friend when nothing's left

It’s not that I haven’t been trying
But my arms are against me just now
And it’s not just a matter of smiling
Though I honestly wouldn’t know how
Neither is it the cracks on the pavement
Or the hammer that bruises my thumb
For not one of these things is the reason
That I desperately need to be numb

It wasn’t the look that you gave me
Or the words you can’t hope to retrieve
It was never the place you were standing
But the space which remains when you leave
There was never a time it was easy
And we battled for every crumb
But the fighting has left me in pieces
So I need to be comfortably numb

The chocolate digestive is a marvel of invention
Custard creams are sickly, but worthy of a mention
Shortbread can be gritty, steer clear of the cheap ones
For if you love your biscuits, your pockets must be deep ones

For perfect dunkability, the hobnob leads the field
But prone to going chewy if their packet isn't sealed
Bourbon creams can satisfy when nothing else is offered
Avert your eyes from pretzels, no matter how they're proffered

The lowly Garibaldi is an underrated treasure
A macaroon is excellent for eating at your leisure
Enjoy the home made cookies and the chocolate crispy nests
And save a pack of party rings for fobbing off on guests

But biscuits can be functional, with keen survival craft
A packet of pink wafers can be used to make a raft
Penguins can be hollowed out and used to smuggle crack
And if you throw a ginger nut, you'll always get it back

A Jaffa cake is handy as a snowboard for a spider
And flapjacks are a sustenance and energy provider
Wagon wheels are lethal when they're wielded by a ninja
Brandy snaps cure cancer with a tiny hint of ginger

Experiment with biscuits, they're a versatile thing
Try horizontal dunking or the highland shortbread fling
Keep a packet stashed away for when the end is nigh
And always have the kettle full, and milk in good supply

Oh waiter my dear fellow
There's a beetle in my soup
He's swimming around the croutons
In a never ending loop

Oh waiter tarry hither
There's a slug inside my pie
He's guzzling the gravy up
And the pastry's gone all dry

Oh waiter while your present
There's a mouse under the chips
She's built a fence of runner beans
To guard them from the dips

Oh waiter please attend to me
There's foxes in my drink
They clambered in a while ago
And plain refuse to sink

Oh waiter hurry back to me
There's a walrus in my cake
He bellows if I dare approach
And makes the jelly shake

Oh waiter fetch a napkin
There's a horse...

Pecan-Pelican, feathery nuts
Pelican-Pecan, shells and guts
Could fly away, most likely shan't
For a pelican can but a pecan can't