O wall a looping hairpin itch reaping
me now dog-legged to an (e.g. human) warmth
&hole stricken as I sing aloud
from this edge& in your light
Dear Sergeant Yobbo,
your brightest human warmth
assuming like other members
the identity of a body who had died young
&be made into braids of armaments
&worships invisible now through the spy gash
a human light made human warmth
to you unmoved clinking ha'porth
made your mouth to not smiling
I speak through the Special Demonstration Squad
using an alias of a stolen life,
an invisible toll clamped tight
an exit strategy of said name of deceased child
Sergeant Yobbo, O hole-strickened hook reaped
my own itch as it haft reaps
slowly deadening attrition
a wreathe spiral flickers up my face
the wind over broken stars
cover the hole of this wall!
I speak your mouths exit a bewitched helve
to eat custard cream biscuits sunk a knuckle
to sunder of thorn by name
by night you have taken
tacked on to a letter
abandon mother & child
in the make-believe activist play
a warmth comes over me
for the most dedicated fathom imagine
broken stars broken
a hole to sunder alone
of thorn by name & night
I can speak through every word unsucked of life
to be a frightening vein
Dear Sergeant Yobbo,
O you have put in the cub
got up the spout, the stick knocked thricely
in the wind this here is a policeman's child
to wash this blood off from my guilty hand
the identity of a boy who had died young
under evensong
of a life misspelt a life mislaid
& love of you
Sarg Yobbo,
twitched life entwined
spy infiltrated my code weaved
of each wastlings
now foresworn to be a forged life
re-emerged of sequences of mine
for me this broken lamp the emails
iamfatherted@yahoo.co.uk have expired
since you ruined my life
in this here cold black pond
a shaft of light stricken white
watching in cleaning them of tears blight
of a hireling this I protest a soul full
for a hardcore militant sowed as a lover
avail oneself of sexual relations for the purposes of
policing this living fear?
with my hand set down on penitence evermore
O woe the unconventional nature of accomodation
in the right age-category or of each others homes
on this sunken heel of mine
Sarg Yob,
of how many are in your creation & unreceived
unforgiven am I the first spawn
competing with a dead child
or I born in reverse of you
Sarg Yobbo,
closed to skin of mine swathed in vela
to be held in covers & sheets
be made into blackjack or baton
upon this cosh a traitor's hand
did set it down with my name
there a promise pass'd speak
I will break it open
within my mouth of rolled & folded papers
an improvised weapon of beermats,
horse brasses, polo mints, shoelaces
& boots squashed together to form a cosh
under your arm unwanted
I am here, remaining as a stealth weapon
Sargin half to create a handle (a haft)
& a rounded head at the fold
it is me your child
your long-lost child
& I have unreservedly emailed
iamfatherted@yahood.co.uk
since the dawn of time
& received no response
blot shilled to memory raked with holes
invisible in your mouth sickled
your brightest stifled light
a secret unit nail clawed to grapnel
of a boy who died
of this falsest of lights
in the blood heart defect,
let sorrow sway under the whole data,
personal irrational pellet
on my hanging mouth
I have written with a groan
where did I leave?
& to be returned from your heart-blood name
impeach'd, baffled upon my grave
my given fair name, but not shame at my own foot
of boots squashed together to form a cosh
I do not bid again,
with this hanging mouth
or spotless head
an antithesis of what a good boy should be
spelt backwards of a wrecked request
that malice makes too deep a paw
fanged this crook died in your mouth
when you utterd me'
unsheathed my unlived life
there is no boot with this hanging mouth
or this life be spent betwixt us twain
blood's royalty at spat aim
at I in this foisted bloodrot
this undid my name
& made me Sarg Yob
is boy spelt backwards
curbs me my right drawn to name
a sundered blot in the blood of the MET
a foul for what I speak my body shall make good
upon this earth as a good subject should
spur reprisal & make blood hot
O prodding strange evening
do you remember when you fingerholed my life!
you made of me strange & want nothing
of what you want
a needle sick on this bad life
to make all good,
like a traitor coward stuffed & pricked scapula tight
this injurious mirror-image
formless of touch and further will maintain
these arms of due furbish of home stead
so sighs & tears cover my eyes & ears
