Friday 12 February 2021

Parliament House or Dung Heap


Parliament House or Dung Heap 

Like Today’s Story of the Shirt

a plateful of sundry wretches 

in such a way that they could 

only have endured it, but ask 

on about villages?

Middlesex and Epping forest

happy people like pilchards in bottom

cask under cook the dome of sky, 

nothing is wasted nothing is spoilt

bar frizz salver piss in a pot look on

or hang off spit and ill-blood

even if you have no property

by the nightshirt liniment 

yr enjoying the anon?

No actual mention of sausages, however. 

Squabbling on a livelihood 

I don't much care for beautiful 

buildings run over with flowers, 

Bastion builds flashing on and off 

as ward-mote leads to Garden Bridge™

bibbing in sun before looting scaffold goes up.


Dear Adrian Glasspool, 

Last resident we cannot maintain '26 acres of land for one person’. 

blood hooked 

stack commuter sprawl in w/ broken 

statist one by one for flogging on out  

down the metropolitan line 

mortarboard tradition staggers

to a croupier fireside chewing 

nothing much but embers 

of prole-whispers 


Gives us bad chests solidarity 

comrades signing off for lack

of cap touch to the very cleanest 

of beautiful souls earldom starves the fiend 

in modest deliberation;

a charred linnet buff burning for burnings sake 

tend sideways for attrition of One Market

denominator pierrot on

true-hearted News Corp drawbridge                 it simply is 

what shape our bananas have got to be, 

and all that kind of thing or

a high-leviathan foisted arbitrage

like my gaffer's yonder; 

I whiffle and pleat expert experts forming permalinks 

In my head of Continentalist stanchions 

to and fro in worry one handbook to another, belayed