"rashers" poems
Jigsaw-
Noun
1. A lively handtool dance for cutting wood or other hard materials with leaping movements, typically with a long, thin serrated blade.
Rhythm denoted with the phrase 'Rashers and Sawsages'
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 7:12 PM UTC
* dedicated to Rene Magritte *
An image of my grandmother
her head appearing upside-down upon a cloud
the cloud transfixed on the steeple
of a deserted railway-station
far away
An image of an aqueduct
with a dead crow hanging from the first arch
a modern-style chair from the second
a fir-tree lodged in the third
and the whole scene sprinkled with snow
An image of a piano-tuner
with a basket of prawns on his shoulder
and a firescreen under his arm
his moustache made of clay-clotted twigs
and his cheeks daubed with wine
An image of an aeroplane
the propellor is rashers of bacon
the wings are of reinforced lard
the tail is made of paper-clips
the pilot is a wasp
An image of the painter
with his left hand in a bucket
and his right hand stroking a cat
as he lies in bed
with a stone beneath his head
And all these images
and many others
are arranged like waxworks
in model bird-cages
about six inches high.
Apr 27, 2010
Apr 27, 2010 at 9:19 PM UTC
the folly of chasing
an impossible dream
drained the fellow's
limited money stream
invoices stacked high
in a towering pile
the paying killing
his lopsided smile
a snow queen sending
*unending requests for powder *****
an addiction dependent
on the cash cow's stuff
the ledger outgoings
to the province of York
extracted more than a few
rashers of prime pork
in time they'd wipe out
every shilling he had
which was an expense
of a destiny so sad
there he sat grappling
with the long years of loss
all fanciful ideas
smothered by moss
Oct 27, 2017
Oct 27, 2017 at 11:55 PM UTC
The Cuckoo Bird declared solemnly
after invading the Starling's nest
and breaking her eggs.
"You Are so greedy,
you just want that nest for yourself"
The great whale solemnly declared
as it sailed happily in the deep blue ocean
" Oh Ocean, you're a wet sponging immigrant
in this vast big land of ours"
The sharpe wiry tongue solemnly declared
as it languidly sits in the mouth
"Oh you mouth, are so rude, how dare you
say such things to me"
The Giraffe solemnly declared to his neck
as its eye the juicy leaves on the top branches
" you are so arrogant and proud, you think
you are longer than all the necks around"v
The big Night Owl solemnly declared
wide eyed, perched on a branch
" The night is always around me all the time,
everywhere I go,it's there, I do say.....
the Night is so clingy and needy".
The big fat Pig, solemnly declared
with its snout in the trough,
"Oh squirrels, you are so greedy
scuttling and leaping from trees to trees
you think you own all the trees"
The Cuckoo Bird, the Great Whale, the Sharp Tongue, the Owl,
The Giraffe and the Big Fat Pig, all solemnly declared
" our perceptions are valid, right and true because we all
believe it's so .....
And these humans, who cage, hunt, confuse, capture and zoo us,
and make us into rashers of bacon ......
All these sane, sensible and lovely Humans
as they hunt, **** ravage, **** and destroy each other
and the planet, Have all solemnly declared
" all animals, birds, tongues and Sea creatures
are all friends and earth companions
and all totally safe and free, from us"
Apr 3, 2019
Apr 3, 2019 at 6:25 AM UTC
the time has come
when walking home
with two loaves of bread
and a pack of gammon rashers
makes you really feel
like you're bringing home
the bacon
I have seen sights
that are from the movies
I am Legend comes to mind
the whole world become
greedy grasping zombies
out for their own personal gain
we have turned our backs
on community compassion
left with a void
once filled with toilet roll
and pasta
queues outside supermarkets
marshalled by police
people stockpiling petrol
***
we're supposed to be on lock down
where the hell are you going
the old and vulnerable
pushed to the kerb of life
thrown from the safety of a pavement
now reserved for the big enough
to elbow everyone else
out of the way
but today I have bacon
and bread
today I can have a sandwich
Mar 26, 2020
Mar 26, 2020 at 6:49 PM UTC
There’s no arguing that idealism has its place,
For if it does not flower, bloom, and spread its seeds
As the dying dandelion casts downy remnants hither and yon,
Then we have wept our tears and trodden in funereal processions
In pursuit of nothing more tangible than the wind itself.
That said, my boys, we shan’t live out our days
In some misty fairyland where the streams run with single-malt
And the trees are heavy with lamb and rashers;
This world can be a bitter, unpleasant place
(The unconditional love of mankind
Being the sole province of Our Saviour)
Where a man will give his wife a quick peck goodbye,
Then give a swift kick to a limping puppy sitting on the stoop,
Or the kindly veterinary will raise a lovely mouse
Just below his missus’ right eye
Upon returning from his local on a Friday night.
That ‘s the game as it’s played on this pitch,
And injury time has a whole new meaning here, lads,
For many’s the striker who is carried off
With pennies over his eyes.
Again, we have no quibble with Locke, Voltaire,
And the rights of man,
But know this: your leaflets will tear and blow away,
And speeches which roll through Parliament and trade union halls
Like great thunderstorms which blow in from the North Sea
Shall fade into the silence of minutes bound and shelved away
In some corner of the vast library of the forgotten.
You may shun the handwork of Messrs. Lee and Enfield,
Simpering that the rifle is the gavel of the coward,
That the garrote plays the music of the ******
Tell us, then, where the bravery lies in scribbling crimson prose
While ensconced in the warmth and safety of your rooms,
What dignity is gained by meekly dropping your gaze
When confronted by the stare of the Black and Tans?
There is no valor in sighting down windmills.
Feb 7, 2017
Feb 7, 2017 at 10:02 AM UTC
Don’t need my ‘full English’ served
On a giant rectangular slab
Don’t need a dressed salad garnish
With my bacon, sausage and egg
Don’t need vine-on cherry tomatoes
Give me canned ones in juice instead
And though I’ve scoured this ridiculous slab
Can I **** find a slice of fried bread?!
And where is my builder’s tea?
English breakfast or Earl Grey’s the choice
But cutlery won’t stand up in either
I want Tetley’s, nowt else will suffice
Oh, what has happened
To the greasy spoon?
This ‘N8 Brunch’
Is loony tunes
10 of my squid
For two brittle half rashers
That crumble to dust
When faced with my gnashers
One measly egg
Yet a goblet of beans
Presented as if made
Of priceless things
Resplendent on said slab
In a vessel all of their own
Yet still I detest these things
And deign to leave them alone
And every cuppa you have
Costs an additional fee
No bottomless beverages here
No meal deal where your tipple is free
This wasn’t always the case
But gentrification is setting in
Prices soar, pretension is rife
Poshification of everything
I love London toon
Particularly Crouch End
But I’m northern at heart
And it drives me round the bend
When I’m being ripped off
Taken for a ride
Fleeced and shafted
Hung out and dried
If I pop down the road
To N22
A tenner will buy
Double the amount of food
Might not look as pretty
Might not be as ‘posh’
But at least it’s value for money
Not like detonating your dosh
Middey’s by name
****** by nature
The tiniest of fry ups
Leaves me cold by temperature
A sprinkling of rocket
Is an utter abomination
On a British institution
I can’t afford at this rate of inflation
So b***ocks to the balsamic
You sprinkled on those leaves
That didn’t belong there in the first place
Desist in future, please!
Dispense with the vegetation
The slab that should be a plate
And reinstate the greasy spoon
In my beautiful N8.
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 2:45 PM UTC