jdotingham Feb 5
"Is it treason if i please 'em?
atomic bombs in a misplaced season
ticking boxes for the laws
made[in]england, but imported from abroad

the queen on is my crown jewels
her head on my head will overrule Westminster's rule
off with your bed, we'll do it on the floor
made[in]england, but imported from abroad

man, Guy Fawkes was secretly a feminist
the only celebrated terrorist
too bad he failed and got caught at the door
made[in]england, but imported from abroad

yorkshire puddings can be a murder weapon
stuff them down the pilot's throat and cause the next 9/11
the cockpit will fall upon London's floor
made[in]england, but imported from abroad

did you hear that Batman went to heaven?
under a burka, in manchester's session
to the virgins that we all adore
made[in]england, but imported from abroad"
THIS IS A SATIRE.
jdotingham Dec 2017
sometimes life will deliver a plate of the inevitable climax; the blow, the snort, the soliloquy of concentrated thoughts all bombarding with the force of lead snow (of sorts). surrounding your mind, holding its weapons up high and cocking the trigger. things seem overwhelming. a climax you cannot stop, as you lay there squirming under the influence of goodwill (who tied you down, force-fed you pills and cocked your trigger as your weapon was up high). but the plate, the platter, the one you thought was silver and gold, was paper. then the sprinklers erupt like lava upon your world and the blow turns into a paste, the snort turns into a cold and the thoughts sag like they are in need of viagra. life climaxes then c

r u
m b
le
s - like that - sometimes
jdotingham Dec 2017
.      vate me;
  ele
u
                     put simply, just because you look
                                                            ­                    down
                                        ­                                                 on
                                                              ­                                me
                              ­              
                                          doesn't mean i should look ^2u
                    put simply, just because you love me,
                                                             eros?agape?phillia?
                                             ­                !you'renotspecificenough!
                     put simply, dis/approve of me, either/or it shall
                                                            fi­ll a me^
just a little excersise of concrete technique.
jdotingham Dec 2017
ant                                icipation
      creepsintomysoul
a.i.wait.for...

                      many things to (manythingmanythingsmany).
E
  X
    P
      L
        O
           D
              I
                N
                   G

[andimploding] in my MIND!
                             coffee.
                             typewriting the sign of the times
T Y P E T Y P E T Y P E T Y P E
expressYoUrSeLf
                               on
                           a scroll...
writing on the road. where will this go? no1nose.
just a little exercise on my concrete poetry.
jdotingham Oct 2017
(post)death is dogma, either/or.
jdotingham Oct 2017
King(dom)cum & hound dog run, a sweet reveal of sexual tension
/..masqueraded by an intermission of pompadour hair & intense dares & gravely vocal chords, shredding his care with rampant tunes of self-proclaimed trouble, from a shy bear. comes out of war better for wear. wear. wear the same outfits which make even vegas' sinful nights stare, and red dwarfs stuffed into streetlights. right? you make the stars jealous of your black and white jailhouse craze. /....King(dom)came. King remains, locked by chains of wavelength and mp3 gains. post-mortem days
illusion of fame and entourage bromance;
it'salwaysthesame
king(dom)came. gag my brain. to much-overstimulated rhyme will make me miss the...





time
(as it flies).
jdotingham Oct 2017
strong>My road stumbles on & stumbles on & stumbles on, waiting for a destination absent to come. /... Thefeetstretchas far as the eye can see, as de-ja-vu lines, of bulging blood, echo across roads of beat. .And so it goes. noknow to where. no past will come, no future will have been, so it goes - messed up senses line the street (of my mind, split down the middle by more lines, indulgent lines, morse code upon the floor. a tarmacocean).
smoky rooms/
and so it goes.
coffee glooms/
&soitgoes.
&soitgoes.
2Dmensnl
r
   a   c  
&on.
&on.
&
o
n.
no.
i am aware of the mixed up pronouns and senses and tenses.
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