It's an eye for an eye
and swap a truth
for a lie,
they either **** you or
we'll let you die.

Kindness,
a mess
in a pickle.

In the end, when unseen
and the fairy King changes
into the wicked old Queen and
all the cards
have been marked,
my ignition
catches the sparks
and I come to life.

Old men.

Generally speaking in private
when old men are dribbling or leaking
I keep to myself,
safer that way when the window's
the only way out.

Poetry bothers me much
more than old chimneys
that smoke
down in Battersea.

Anathema.

I smoke **** in order to be
insufficiently free of
deficiency,
which is in any case
all Greek to me.