Sphincter factor nine approaches
food for the fish n roaches
methinks its time for me perhaps
to open up the rearward *****.


------------------------------------
AAChoo !!

Oh, liddle sister, Josephine,
you sure don't keep your
nose real clean.
got stalactites
o' pure pea green
my infectious sibling
snot machine.
----------------------------------------
I thought that I might shoot the breeze
with God or Mephistopheles
and ask them please to ease my wheeze
of my bad back and dodgy knees
---------------------------
Croak with the raven
bluff with the crow
the urchin
the field mouse
beneath the hedgerow
in a flurry they scurry
away away go.
Yelp with the *****
howl with the hound
and bay at the moon
till the sun comes around.
------------------------------------------
Gino's bar and grill.

Away, away afore Bacchus
doles out befuddlement
and Morpheus has his way,
lest I awake to find myself
in the company of
sodamistic bedfellows
with buggery in mind.
---------------------------------
Harry Potter has grown a beard
he lives alone and turned out weird.
Dumbledore, Albus, no more
turned his toes and 'ad a snore,
Voldemort, who's *** is taut
has no nose with which to snort.
====================

Ahem !!

Behind two Lilies- sits Rose,
then Daisies
for two and a bit rows.
with Poppy, and *****
Petunia, Primrose.
and Bryony - who gets up
- my nose.
----------------------------------------------
Amen.
God bless the Cows - for beef burgers.
God bless the Pig - for their bacon.
God bless the wife n her sharp knife
for the slice of their **** she's taken.

-------------------------------------------------
We can, no more fetter the sea to the shore
nor the clouds to the sky
or tether the glint
in a lovers eye,
As sure as the shore loves the sea
so shall I love thee, together,
together for eternity,

-----------------------------------

It bends for thee
sweet chevin,
the cane thats cleaved
by three,
wilt thou now
sweet chevin
yield, my friend ,
for me.
-------------------------------------------------
There's Marmalade then Marmite
and Jams thats jammed between
the buttered bread of bard-dom
a poets sweet cuisine.
---------------------------------------------
I took up campanology
and fired up my ****.
I rang that bell
to ******* hell
till the busies
came along.
--------------------------------------------
so, I've been whittling away
at a buoyant ****-
fashioned something approximating
a poo canoe-
in it, I intend to
surf the **** tsunami of old age
to-- death;
I have named it Public - Service - Pension.


----------------------------------------------

A surreptitious delightful tryst,
with my honey, my sebaceous cyst.
she's my pimple, my wart,
my gumboil consort.
she's the zip, in which
my *******, got caught.
--------------------------------------
Frayed at the bottoms
ripped at the knee.
baggy and saggy
big enough for three.
faded and jaded
and stained with ***
but I'm due for a new pair--
Yippeeeee!!

---------------------------------------

Ther­e's Cockerel in my ear
and he bills and coo's for you
whenever you are near
goes - **** a doodle doo !!!!!,,,,,,,,

---------------------------------------------

Oh,­ for the snap shut skin
in the blue twang of youth
and to un-crack the spine
on the book of love.
now the gulping years
have flown away
we take sips of the night
and are spoon fed the day.

-----------------------------

Zeus made the Moose to be somewhat obtuse,
a big deer- rather queer- I fear.
then God gave him the nod to look funny and odd
the spitting image of you - my dear !!!

---------------------------------------

Knobbly Nobby.

Nobby has a great big nose
a great big nose has he,
and nobby knows
that his big nose,
is big, as big can be,
nobby has two knobbly knees
two knobbly knees has he,
his knobbly knees,
are as knobely
as knobbly knees can be,
don’t pity dear old nobby
for soon it’s plain to see,
that nobby has a great big ****
as big, as big as three !
now nobbys **** is knobly,
as knobly as a **** can be,
so nose and knee and ****
make three,
and we - are ****- ely.

----------------------------------

The Woman that wouldn't eat meat,
had reeaally, reeaally big feet,
her **** was as big as an hermaphrodite brig
and her **** were as hard as concrete….


--------------------------------

Hearken the clarion call of the crows
afore the snow-
they caw,
hey, get your **** into gear lads-
we gotta feckin go !!!

-----------------------------

Gods pad

I took a peek within
your house
wherein on pew, I spied
a mouse,
and in his hand,
a Bible clasped,
and out his mouth,
a parable rasped,

---------------------

I'd say she had
a pigeon loft in
her eyes and
bluebells up
her nose.

But then again
I wear a flat cap

and stroll through meadows.

----------------------------

Would you care to buy our house?
It's minus Mouse n devoid o' Louse,!
Spiders, Roaches, Bugs or other,
have all been eaten by my brother,
snaffled up n swallowed down
then jus' crapped out a - yellowish brown.
so would you care to buy our house?
from an oddly pair -- devoid of nous

-------------------------

Though the Crows got her eyes
and the Worms got her gut.
comes as no surprise
death can't keep her mouth shut.

-------------------

Bevelled slick edges
and reeaal eeaasy slopes.
Chilli dip wedges
with fresh artichokes.
Wanton loose wenches
and swivel hipped ******
Daft dawgs and dentures
and granddad - who snores.

-------------------

Been whittling away at a buoyant ****
and fashioned something approximating a canoe,
in it, I intend to surf the **** tsunami of old age;
I named it, "Public service pension"

-------------------------------

.
Well,
     I could wax on the wings of a butterfly
but, I ain't that kind o' guy.
rather kick the nuts off ******* squirrels
pluck the wings off - blue assed fly.
I'm the stuff that flops off dog chops
when he's up for it and high.
an infection in your sphincter,
a well
that's jus' run dry.

----------------------------------------------

befeathered­ and bright scarlet
is my ladies bonnet,
jauntily askew and -
lilting on a paramours
grin.

"- Gladlaughffi -"

I'm reliably informed that dear ol' Muma
sported a goatee around his **** sphincter,
now, whilst this is merely educated speculation
from my esteemed friend his "groom of the stool" ! 
who was in fact required to wear a mask,
ear muffs and a blindfold whilst he went about his business,
He did possess reeaaally sensitive fingertips
somewhat akin to a blind man reading brail,,
and, swore blind that said "**** sphincter' spoke him in Arabic
and asked him for a quick trim, (short back and sides)
I myself being a practising proctologist of some repute
am inclined to believe my friend the "groom of the stool"
as I've come recognise -- Arsolian when I hear it !!!!!!!!
-------------------------------------

In a Belfast sink by the plughole
where hair and gum gunk meet
'erman the germ-man  and toe jam
bop the bacillus beat.

________

Doctor this I know as fact
that I have a blocked digestive tract,
I'm all bunged up and cannot go
my trump and pump is - somewhat slow.
I need unction jollop for junction wallop
some sorta lotion to give me motion.
If you could please just ease my wheeze
then I needn't grunt and push and squeeze.

-----------------------------

They are breaking out the thwacking sticks
and sparking Godly clogs
pulling tongues through narrowed lips
at the infidel yankee dogs.

------------------------------------

As a paid up member of the
lumpen bourgeoisie poetry appreciation society
I can confirm without fear of contradiction
that poetry is indeed baggy underwear
with ample ball room, voluminous in the extreme
and takes into account
the need for the free flow of flatulent gassiness
that is the want of a ****** up poet.

-----------------------------------------------

She's a rough hewn Trapezoidal gal
a gongoozler o' the ol' canal.
She's copper bottomed n fly boat Sal.

I'll have thee know that
that there hat
is a magic hat,
it renders me invisible
to the arty intelligentsia
and roots me firmly
in the lumpen proletariat .
-------------------------------------------------------
Said the sneaky Scotsman, Jim Blaik.
if the pension, you wish to partake,
bend over my son, lets get this thing done
and cop for this thick trouser snake !!

I met my uncle Albert,
down at Asda, in aisle three;
he got there in a Mazda,
jus' a smidgen after me,
said he'd traversed Sainsburys,
Tesco Liddle n the Spar,
but not one o' them flogged Caviar
Truffles or Foie gras.


He sidled past the pork pies
streaky bacon turkey thighs
a headin for the french fries
n forsaken knock down buys,
shimmied 'round the ankle biters;
expectant mums to be,
popin pills for bloated ills
in the haberdashery.

Fandango'd o'er the cornflakes
and the spillage in isle four

-----------------

I'm linier and analogue,
a ribbon microphone man
mired in the dust of the monochromatic,
the basement, the attic.

------------------------------

Simple simon met miss Tymon going to the fair,
said simple simon to miss Tymon - "pfhwarr what a luverly pair"
of silken thighs and big brown eyes and scrumptious wobbly bits,
Said simple Simon to miss Tymon---------- shame about you **** !!!

So sad sweet Shirl thought she'd give a whirl to clubbercise n pound

Squat, slightly,
tilt head 45°
and squint.
See the shimmering blurry
dot in the distance?
That, timorous ****,
is ME !
Fast twitching my
narrow white ****
to the pub.

There was a young lady named Sue.
whose ***** and **** was askew,
whilst taking a ****
she'd aim it and miss
and she lifted 'er hat when she blew.


Oh Mon Dieu !!

Obi.

Lit by sparks, debris in flame,
I could not meet his eye.

Your gaze was coal along my spine

burning me alive.

We swayed on lukewarm asphalt
futures scribed across the sky

I closed my eyes against the night

And felt your footsteps shift with mine.

I arched my back against your breath
you rasped, "can I cut in?"

Your lips against my lobe

left me taught and thin.

The glow of sparse-lit flares
your fingers worked against my skin

a desperate moan escaped me

at my gasp you flushed and grinned.

Knuckles clenched along my hip
bare feet weak on a damp road

the bodies parted, our gaze persisted,

swallowed pain and my eyes closed.


Because you are not mine

I am not yours

we had one night,


and yet no cure.

She said its easy as pie
Just do it right and no one will know
But as I looked down
At his half sunken face
I thought to myself
Its easier said then done
And as I bent down
To grab his cold pale ankles
A funny thought came to my head
Just last month I saw him and said
You are one in a million
The only one in the world
But as secrets slowly creped out
And as gossip spread
One girl came before me
"You know what they say," she rasped
Her lips curled as she glared
"The good ones never stay long."
And as her sharp words cut through me
I tried to keep my bleeding heart together
I ran as fast as I could back to my home
Right back to my room
I was down in the dumps
Felt used and unloved
And as I heard his hand touch the handle
I stood in guard
And waited for his last words
"I will not have my heart broken again," said I
And at last, as I stood over his crimson body
She strolled right in
With that same evil smile
I felt cut and dried
And it was all my fault
With nothing I could do
And as I covered his stone body
With the earths damp dirt
I thought to myself
He was one in a million
The only one in the world

Once, I was told by a by a writing instructor that if I could only write in fragments, I should write in fragments.  It was good advice.  I never really finished anything I began during that time period, but I've become attached to these tiny bits of scratching that take up odd space in my journals.
...
Certainty, like invocation of the spirits of thunder, gather in my eyes, my voice, in the purpose of my movement.  Economical, efficient, effective motion will prove my intent where my heart fails.  Only the stilled wind would guess my fear, my timorous uncertainty.  You would not.  You must not
...
I would smear you on my lips, like berries in July.  You would taste sweet, like sticky and cool; smooth against my uneven breath, linger like the scent of lilacs in april.  I'm sure of it.
...
Leaving.  Somewhere between Casper & Cheyenne Olympus in the sky with Luck Dragons and owls.  Patrick, do you see them from Billings?  Earth that flows, rolls, folding itself over and over, mountains curving upward into claws of earth tearing at the sky.  Silence deeper than sound, hair in my face and rain that smells of heat and wet, green things mingling with smell of hot pavement cooling in the prairie.  These are leaving things.
...
What I know.  I know how to breathe.  The trillion ways of moving air into these lungs.  I know the quick easy breath of near slumber; the short rasped breath of barely concealed fear; I know the shallow breath afriad to break love spells and the flooding breath of relief.  I know the sharp inhale of being hurt, and the deliberate letting go of defeat...
....
I crave words, like chocolate, creamy-sweet on my tongue, giving way to teeth that press too hard.
...
Impossible things everyday occur outside the continent of myself.  I am not so busy with my own universal truths to consider this impossible raindrop that will linger on my fingertip in spite of the autumn wind.
...
When it hurts the world makes sense.  Resolution absovles me from inaction and the momentum carries me forward with purpose.
...
Something about the feel of pencil on paper... of scratching out meaning from possibility.  No more permanent than graphite on wood pulp ~ the soft friction has it's own truth, a burning of sorts, heat of substance on substance, from mind to paper, consuming all that it is not, internal regions to external realities; commitment at it's subtle best, fleeting and impermanent as time.
...
Sometimes you don't think, or won't, or something like that, something crzy like that.  Sometimes a stone is just a rock, a lone flower in a vast field of scrub and brush is just a mislaid seed.  Sometimes a sunset fire on a sloping hill is simply a star behind a revolving planet.  Occasionally, going home is nothing more than a twelve year old economy car and a bad road.
...
Today I miss you.  You are lodged firmly in a small, hard lump at the back of my throat ~ encased tears aching to explode into empty space, where you are not.  Not here next to me, where skin on skin might reassure me of your definitive existence.  Not here, where I am certain of you.

I crept into my soul in the profoundest night:
where spectral owls honked and hooted in fickle fright
and tongues rasped out sihouettes-
deepening shadows crawled from ***** mouths,
and love slunk around tattered skirts
in imitation of fungi growths:
paper covered me from head to shin
when I let the shadows thin fingers in!
words assembled like building blocks
men in high-heels/boys in frocks.  
                         In the morning, the sun
scoured my skin. I leant on the devil, standing alone,
                          he flipped me a coin
like he'd just tossed me a biscuit and a blood-red bone,
               as I whimpered into the mirror's torn
shimmering shafts of innocence, where beauty assaulted the black-eyed crone
for salutory afternoon tea,
the pretty boy charging the ugly boy an extortionate fee.

and the devil sang in the metronomic gloom
of departed joys.
I returned to my room,
playing with the boys-
coming intensely as the ice displayed
the solitary if fashionable route to Hades.
.

The night had already begun before Harold had awoken, and as his eyelids lifted, the sun was slowly sinking like a lifeboat with a gradual but determined leak. He got out of bed and crossed naked to the windows, where he pulled closed the blinds to shut out the last slanted rays of the day from pelting him in the face.
"Hahhh..." He sighed with relief at the reinforced darkness, and lay back down in bed facing the ceiling without bothering to pull the blankets back up and over his body.

He thought briefly 'I'll never fall back asleep now, my body just won't take any more rest, I suppose' he had been sleeping for almost 14 hours at this point. Yet he didn't move from his horizontal position, but instead lied still with his eyes affixed to the ceiling and felt his retinas irising open to greedily take in what strands of light still remained. It was odd, feeling his eyes adjust like that. The kind of feeling you don't notice until you really focus on feeling it.

Suddenly and seemingly without cause his head rolled to the right, and he flinched at the brightness of his digital alarm clock on the nightstand beside him. In a brief confusion he read the clock and thought 'How is the sun setting at 11:37 pm?..' but then remembered it ran 5 hours too fast since the last time he lost power, and he had been too lazy to set it correctly.
"It's 6:37 you numb ****," he said to himself in a voice little more than a harsh whisper, "**** clocks anyway."

Sighing again, he swung his feet off the bed and felt them pendulum to the ground with an unsteady muscle spasm and he was startled briefly by his lack of equilibrium. 'Sleeping for 14 hours at a time will do this to a person, especially a person as hung over as I am..' as he thought, his mind throbbed with every unspoken word and he averted thinking about the previous night.

He righted himself and sat there on the edge of his bed, or his casket as he liked to think of it, and let his head hang limp and buried in his hands. "Another day well spent," Harold's voice cracked and rasped on the words he spoke, and he stood to fix himself a glass of water whilst gripping an unlit cigarette that he grabbed from his nightstand in between his lips.

The deathly shadows casted a wave as they flashed through the burn of my headlights
On their way to another steal

Another day ?
Another time maybe?...
But turn me cold they did to form shivers
So sharp my deadened eyes rasped against their brittleness  
I hate the midnight call

This lack of rest was winning to my
Thought's of a day all mine
Yet on I must drive
For it is you that is in need
In need of these words
In need of my hands
For I am the healer and the shadows are waiting

They know all my work and despise my view
For I taketh the bad to bring light out from the dark
I am the healer
I am the one
The shadows are waiting

No payment to be crossed
No words from your lips
As my silence is your gift
So my work must continue  
The shadows are waiting

Dawn chorus wakes the morning light
To a relieve as I sigh  
The shadows are hiding and my work
is not done
Tears flow as I fall to my knees
Earth has taken its feed
Let the shadows wait

The deathly shadows waved as they flashed through
My headlights on their way to another steal
Another day ??
Another time maybe I thought ?
But turn me cold they did to form
Shivers so sharp my deadened eyes
Rasped against their brittleness
I hate the midnight call

This lack of rest was winning to my
Thoughts of a day all mine
Another call to the front
A sound ****** on my echoes around
The quiet room called home

For I am the collector and your soul
Is in my seek
My journey is to help you fight them
For they steal all your promises  
They eat at your want and relish at
Your need

Allow me to protect you till you move
Till the change is complete
Into your fade of this cold place  
Till you brave the land I know
Take my hand
Let me explain ....life