your hair’s so **** distracting
it’s gorgeous, yes,
slicked back or even gelled up into the punk rock staple
of I hate my parents
but it pulls me away from your face
like a sucker for half-assed romance novels
your doe like hazel eyes
draw me in
your bumpy nose
rocks against mine and makes me giggle
your lopsided grin
makes it so easy to get lost in kisses
but when you’re screaming at the top of your lungs
about how much ******* hairspray you need for the next show
it gets me wondering
and wondering is always bad, but,
did it ever occur to you that girls will still love you even if you don’t grease your hair up
did it ever occur to you that I will still love you
but then again,
you’ll eventually just get a haircut

Rapt by prognosis, sterile elocution
Acute halitosis, banal delusion
Digital notice of distant retribution
Thrombosis will move you before revolution

Brash adolescent right-side part,
Strand obsolescence, abstract art
Pinstripe filaments, two turned backs
Bowed in benevolence, borrowing slack

Hieroglyphic ruminations,
Plastered protestations.
Muscle memory incantations,
Aquifuge of patience.

Future shock, feminists ride-centaurs
Skin-tan hedonists reside-indoors
Tin-can telephone spinal chord,
Sings-an injured semitone final word

40 years since you were a punk

T-shirt soaked in blood,
Throbbing pain in his nostrils,
He needs a doctor.

Dudley does to Pauline,
He does her right.
Dudley does to Pauline
Day and night.
Dudley does to Pauline
Til he hits the floor.
Dudley does to Pauline
Til he can't anymore

Dudley, Dudley, Dudley
Dudley Do-right.

Dudley never meant
To make a mess.
Dudley never asked Pauline
To wear that dress.
Dudley never needed
To hear her groan.
Dudley would have offered
To drive her home.

Dudley, Dudley, Dudley
Dudley do-right.

Dudley gets the mop
And a soapy pail.
Dudley wouldn't like
To go to jail.
Dudley is relieved
There's no-one to tell.
Dudley is so sweet,
Who'd believe the tale?

Dudley, Dudley, Dudley
Dudley Do-right.

l love
you now
as yer
turn table
extol in
excess for
sea with
a kick
that the
new wave
let her
ride here
but a
train in
Tokyo spit
her under
toe awhile.

I'm a Rock and Rock teacher and I'm really dead cool,
I wear a leather jacket as I'm swaggering to school,
I like what I teach and I teach what I like,
A roar across the playground on my motorbike.
I let the kids call me by my first name,
My mum called me Gertrude (which is a bit of a shame),
I love Sid Vicious so I call myself Nance,
And put safety pins in my PVC pants.
I talk about Shakespeare or as I call him Bill,
I put wicked street art on my windowsill,
I follow no rules, I do what I choose,
I pierced my lip, I've got tattoos,
I'm fighting the system, I'm hip and I'm rad.
It's a midlife crisis and it's really quite sad.