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tenyearsinabeaglecollaredshirt

ponderous poetry for the hoi polloi

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literature

Sleeplessness

Ultra-violet cannonball,

Ultraviolent aerosol,

One smacker which smacks of ethanol,

Does discourage me from sleep.

 

Ultramarine turns to gold,

Submachine gun light to hold,

Two smackers which smack of ethanol,

Do discourage me from sleep.

 

Ultrasonic melodies,

Gin and tonic-fuelled elegies,

Three smackers which smack of all of these

Do discourage me,

Of all people would you believe,

From the sleep I so desperately need.

 

p.s. in actual fact, all I desperately need is you.

Stand at ease!

I want to be that man who with a

Word can shave miles from your

Frown,

To easily ease the unease,

Fermenting like gone off milk in her fraught

Forehead.

 

For I want to be that man who with a

Whisper can save the almond blossom

From the ruthless rain,

And easily ease the unease,

Brewing like an Atlantic storm in her melancholy

Mind.

 

Mind you, I want to be that man who with a

Smile can stave off the barbed tail of the

Wyvern,

And I’ll easily ease the unease

Forever melting like snow in my doting

Hands.

Funfair

Eeeepapeepapeee!

Shapeshifter, middle-lane drifter,

How this Blu-tack brain of mine sure does miss her,

Her eyes, her ears, her nose…

While my head is busied with thoughts like

Railway replacement buses,

Overwhelmed with weary commuters,

Daily disputers,

Husks of humanness…

How unfair is the funfair when the fun is so far

Away.

 

But still I won’t give up!

(Oh no!)

And cherry-pick the moments which mean the most to

Me,

Of holding your sweet face in my hands again,

With as much love as Daphne odora does hang on to her

Flowering faces,

For though the faraway funfair is so frightfully unfair,

My mind is an endless carousel and every

Horse I ride is you.

Telephone torment

What madness are these

Midday moments of misery?

When my ears go deaf from the sound of

Faceless tears

Sent back in time from foreign fields and

Familiar mouths I long to

Kiss.

 

What madness are these

Midday moments of melancholy?

When lonely yowls do make me feel as blue as

Monsieur Majorelle’s fingertips,

Held against pneumonic lips,

Which match the colour of my toes

(Dammelooo!)

 

What madness are these

Midday moments of malaise?

When anxious nails scratch at these itchy feet,

As the phantom chilblains burn more fiercely than

Jaipurian suns,

How I long to

Kiss

You

Goodnight.

Couleur Cardinal

Oh amore mio!

(And more and more I do love you),

In darkness unnerving I hang here and struggle,

But I carry on trying to

Cling on to the end of a strawberry lace,

Lost in sugary space,

How I long to tickle that

Stick of dynamite between your teeth…

 

Oh amore mio!

(And more and more and more I do love you),

But while I try with all my might,

To taste that dynamite,

It feels like donkey’s ears since I lit the fruity fuse

That trickles from the Couleur Cardinal

You so vexingly pass off as lips,

Oh!

If only time would shake a leg!

The Nag’s Head

In my moments of desolation,

Expectancy is the hand that cast

A thousand heartbeats,

The cigarette,

Which so often drips from her lips,

As wisteria does weep tears of purple

From country cottages,

Oh how she turned the nag’s head from

Granite to poultice,

Which once did whinny with grief,

But now sings songs of summer and rain.

 

And while obsequiousness proves fateful for

Those who follow the wrong heart,

I would be foolish to mar my breath with

Complaint,

When it breeds such joyousness and relief,

For one man’s prison is another man’s paradise,

Oh! How blessed I would be

To spend my final living days with thee,

Behind the castellated walls of your love.

The Lungwort

Against my will, my love,

You shall compare me to the lungwort who,

With nervous breath,

Welcomes the reluctant anthems of spring,

And sings a song of her own that she hopes will

Stand the test of time,

But upon opening eminence eyes,

Sorrow walks in like rain uninvited,

To send shivers down her sorry spine,

With aqueous hands,

Wrapped around her neck with all the sternness and intent of a

Marble lion,

Whose silent roar renders her ears

Hopeless, useless, pathetic,

Much like the veiled sky which mocks the English

Sun,

Blindfold and desperate,

And she’ll pray for the deathly grasp of the closing year,

So that she can be reborn,

And feel the warmth of your love once more.

Cat o’ nine tails

Come come Cat o’ nine tails,

Oh tease me

With your wicked whispers

Fired straight from a bolt gun into

My grateful ears,

Young whippersnapper

Whip me into shape,

My girl (that’s you!)

With nine lives to live,

And one life of mine to superintend…

 

Oh please,

Please, please please!

Just dig your claws into me and

Paint a red-hot tapestry,

To match the markings on your back,

(Eh don’t copy!)

But imitation is the best way to keep you near,

In times when you’re not here,

For I’ll try everything just to keep you close to

Me.

Ee bah gum

Ee bah gum,

You’re a reyt bobby dazzler,

Daft as a brush,

Go easy on me tiger,

Little rascal to tackle,

Fruitcake appetiser,

So beautifully and brutally honest!

 

My honouree tyke,

You sure do tek a good likeness,

Lucky stripe, that’s right

No soul on earth quite like you for niceness,

Your brightness is blinding,

In hiding, I’m finding,

That absence makes the heart grow fonder

(No relation to Henry)!

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