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bolt the doors, lock the windows,
doomsday is coming to town,
'cos London's got a muslim mayor.

O, woe is us, our children are not safe,
we can't walk the streets at night,
listen for the knock on your door
'cos London has a muslim mayor.

O, the monsters are being elected,
our nightmares have come true,
there'll be ****** on the streets,
'cos London's elected a muslim mayor.
Sometimes you have to make what makes you angry absurd. Always enjoyed satire.
wander abaht atter a home
as av no bairns ad Tek us in
so the living hereabahts
rush inside
early doors
afore sunset
lock doors
pull down shades,
turn mirrors to walls

do all to stop me seeing em
for if I did
I'd carry 'em off.

*** named a monkey
after us, the lemur
cos we big eyes
are aht at neet
and mek ghost noises

so bairns bang *** lids
howl like wolves
joined by tarn dogs,
to frit us away

while nannans spin abaht,
splash boiling watta
rahnd rooms with a wooden ladle .

Am one dead al not find a home.

   I'd carry 'em off.
Another for the month
I am May
home to fey
orchard ermine,
pear leaf blister,
rhomboid tortrix,
light emerald,
lackey, vapourer,
fruitlet mining tortrix,
small eggar and lappet
folded wings are
doors attracted to light

collect my fragrant
white flowers,
red fruits
and bathe
in fleshdecay
to fold into lovemake
give birth
avoid my blades

I always ask blood
of the careless

I will always ask
of you
what you do not wish to give
A poem for the month.
chocolate fireguard, teapot,
or fender, icecream sofa, dry sea
or wet towel, glass hammer,

waterproof teabag, newspaper
raincoat and umbrella, lead parachute, ashtray on a motorbike,

handbrake on a canoe,
vote in a dictatorship,
loudhailer to a deaf mute,
grief at a wedding,

****** in a monastery.
inflatable dartboard,
spoon in a knife-fight,
screen door on a submarine,

wooden soap, shortbread tires,  
knitted light bulb,
bread boat, plasticine wire cutters,
paper hole punch, water hat,

custard floorboards,
ceiling tiles made of gravy,
portrait of a bowl of soup,
a stone cigarette,

syrup knickers, hole in my bucket,
plastic oven, wax truss,
liquorice bridge,
false teeth made of soap,

lemonade roof,
jelly boots,
jam cardigan,

paper bicycle pump,
ice-cream saucepans,
soluble drain pipe,
packet of rubber nails,

see-through mirror,
revolving basement restaurant
roll-on hairspray, rubber pencil,

****** with a hole in it,
limp ****, pockets on a lettuce,
**** on a fish, lolly pop van in Hell,

one-legged man in an ****
kicking competition,

meaningless life,
unnecessary death,
forgotten words and deeds,
ignored needs,


this poem.
Enjoy slipping in the occasional serious note,
green, as I'm cabbage looking
red, as I'm devilish seeming
blue, as I'm sky tasting
black, as I'm painted sounding
grey, as I'm fogged if I'm knowing
white, as I'm angelic touching
brown, as I'm **** feeling
I like playing with idioms
far down
into the pit of hell
as it is possible to go
and still see the stars shining.

far up
into the spit of sky
as it is possible to go
and still see the wood for the trees.
As.has everybody most likely
Unmanned, like a bull bereft of all;
a flaccid decoration without use;
at least if thee had what I have
thou could be a woman; ******
hiding your treasure for marriage
and hypocrisy. And leave me
with empty decoration; rings
without sense, dresses without purpose.

Go about your business thou say
I want nothing to do with thee now;
yet not a month ago it was all Peggy this,
Peggy that; such are the changes
of the seasons. I do not want to give birth
to an empty ache; wet nurse it; teach it
its father's worth; I cannot tell the ache
how we loved, how we met, how we joyed.

I cannot sit round this mughouse days
and months I must out into the world
roll in the smell of Man again
with a jug of ale in one hand
and earning a stony crust
from some wight with a jangling purse.
And forget the bull that was castrated.
An historical poem from a sequence about a Quaker in Barnsley who has to decide between two women.
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