Monday 11 October 2021

























































Now your rumpled thorns keen 

& scour out an alienated silhouette unwrit

the same heartless registrar burning a HR bulletin hole 

bolted into callused fingers 

the cruellest cramps payroll troll

 fuck it.  as they casually seek 

to remove parts inside —dry heaving— somewhere

 in arm’s letter length its subsong

 trembling& wisp'd over-whelming   

clavichord of some damned & suspended tic force

gets charred the hand that feeds

the migraine weather

said aloud or under briar

turns in unchecked off again

to sweat in the database vale 

tiered light to thrifted light 

nozzle to nozzle tight 

your entitlement to occupational sickness is reduced by half

with efficiency closed, to a tabless forward

best wishbones for your continued recreation 

in twilight slits the timeserver glinting 

now meant to live as inadequately as told

to a ruction you cannot exhaust 

if there are any other ways

it drones out in lines I inhibit

off the merest anode

mnemonic, rented on webHome .cloches

the effigy of a wren bursts

 like everything I sang again

dead again for a work ethic unchained 

the integer for Fiscal Stylus 

has calculated that the user, you

are foul of our estimate,  a ‘cut’  to £0. in a hole 

known as a sanction through whom I see no bliss at all!

O wicked wall, fulminate mist jilted. 

mudguards. in pith. sunk

woe I am to this wall's woe hole sealed 

to dangle work upon the spy gash 

& hunches consecrate & twist

all rime on felled sickle croaks  

up liquid fiscal pricks

today the Ocean is buried

today death for garnets in pockets 

today eat 5% now to your peace kindling,

today CSJ* has built an alliance on poverty 

a fascist coiled inside my skin IDS trample in the rotunda

tomorrow skiver punnets long for ouroboros 

make tackling poverty

in eat sick off red-tapeworms 

known as a sanction for a heart of nothing  

known as a large analgesic of my lanyard, wrapped 

I have found myself crannied inside a hole 8pence thick

in autogas a Baron laid to rest

down the CNS you moved,

 unclinking betwixt a billfold screed

so the Working Group members anonymity will recover 

in your children's birthmarks 

as to work dangle requirements  

& out-of-work notches remain rended here now

& to be found in 

& of compelling evidence 

for the idea that money earned through work 

carries more utility than money received 

from Government & Opposition

      O rift goaded to & go

 waking least lowest most ragged 

& dismissed of starred & pricked eyes

grown inward all valued tight

braid a rota somewhere in arm’s letter length 

 open the payroll or I will implode

&eat through a haze length of numbers,

sick on salvoWEB 

countersign upon countersign

with ripped-out sprigs 

here the coup de grâce

gently absent from fairest oak

approved Work-Force pedants made on

the cruellest woes

 or most anxious heaves

at arm’s letter, water cannot be disconnected

said Work & Pensions but merely rerouted

in shame, gently accompanying

private waste doglegged eating my meniscus.


Mother has an Ovaltine & settles down 

she does not say the word for 

Harym, harm, as in roadblock

cracked to a kind of twilight,

an old as speculative chart made of rose equity

struck inside my throat

as a weak voice mutters under poverty porn

or an Orrery of this & the spy gash above me

a heretical nosedive incentive

after too much harm

work does not pay it concludes said Mum


Dr Stephen Brien, Nicholas Boys Smith David Godfrey 

James Greenbury, Nicholas Hillmanm, Sara McKee, Dr Peter King, Lee Rowley, Debbie Scott, Corin Taylor 


Linnean Society of London pecunia non olet 

starved beyond work are rats carved on Haymarket Street

for a dynamic welfare state 

by the Private Banking division of Lloyds Group

& we work to move away from permanent dependency

& to increase the affordability of the system 

as in to ‘cut’ a hole 8pence thick

to Broad Street seeing through the eye 

of algebra dead 

in antitheses of the communal

as a golden song downturns 

O excellent man, the true pattern of singular courage 

& unparalleled enterprise, whose lot it was to be obnoxious 

to fickle fortune, & suffer adversity with few intervals of prosperity!

That crypt Janis Dobbie* eats  

is of red-tapeworm sanctioned her dead son 

or bones blown into flag ended 

in the undercroft for ended; smyth’d

for banisht; Iendeth 

forgotten people screw in & be small & hard

glue fix disincentives a wider gap to cut

faint with gestures on undesirables

in our heart of hearts 

the alteration of 8p unchained in my mouth kernel 

carve out cut but to scar & a last

balanced arc of firebreak winds into 

a sanctioned wreathe your head banned 

for society inside a cash flow problem is 

Dominic Raab inside Dominic Raab is 

equality before law problem 

the right to counsel problem 

& the right to a fair trial problem 

be hurting poorly targeted rapiers of the unemployed 

gash this shuddering inside you 

Dominic Raab is O wall, O sweet chink mine 


lovely wall ground & mine! 

the user you this is 8pence thick& of no bliss!     

cursed minnow tears 

again confound pay & we will do everything, work with anyone, overcome every obstacle in our path to jobs & prosperity & cast to ground

I am weary as the night rejected or decayed 

I am 12 years old dead

allow us to design a coherent system 

that deploys the vast welfare budget

I have always worked hard doglegged 

& handed an (e.g. human) warmth 

eaten on form-filling on drill bits have you tried 

streamlining five practical measures


1. Death of chief wage-earner. 

2. Incapacity of chief wage-earner 

though accident, illness or old age. 

3. Chief wage-earner out of work. 

4. Chronic irregularity of work.

5. Largeness of family.

exit moonshine O workplace O my private light? 

not applicable I seek death or reasonable 

(e.g. human) warmth problem.  clanks.  

I am red in the face & its  

sold at augury for chase, 

while the destiny of you Dominic Raab

goes regrettably faint, 

was that Sit-down Peter yes

sit down Peter (e.g. human) warmth 

in 2008 I was 12 years old 

inside a bin outside Lloyd’s bank 

a disbursement of omens– who broke the stratagem –

who broke in 2008 

(a) strategy 

(a.ii) disarmament of ombudsman's

across the land forcing plight into a massive bust of Lenin 

remember rescued from the former Soviet Union 

at the end of the Cold War & located 

in the village of Thenford in Northamptonshire 

at the 70 acre estate belonging 

to Baron Heseltine of Thenford

a canard into a stockbroker drowned 

beneath me an invisible toll, 

pointed Canary throttle the disappearance of oligarchy

to a houseboy theme philistine competition; 

a billion at Lloyd’s  

sticked in bits fell off or down or since 

& hankering stopsI can think of worse ohms 

to beautify under moonlight 

abolish me belayed this ladder inside chambers

with nuance / to lose but a glossary

securely chain mailed honeycombed clapped 

 equals penalty for vespers 

The Chartered Institute for Personnel & Development believes in nothing & hates everything

on a wrecked request finally

this sanction officer knows no bounds, 

Dear Sir Justice 

you know me I ought to know or have known 

but as my last sick balance emits O i’ve tried drill bits 

inside that wrecked close to skin

taken to ban thyself under the whole 

data, personal, emotional irrational pellet 


There Is No Alternative 

as waste bins are caged & padlocked

food dies away from seeing 

 O, bloodwormed surround people hope is a better see SICKLED on a proboscis itch

lifelong scraped in abysmal score-print give me the green LIGHT looping hairpin itch

of mine reaping me now dog-legged  

to an (e.g. human) warmth 

&hole strickened as I sing aloud 

from this lights edge is inscribed section 13.5 

contained within yr contract, 

the most vulnerable s(e)c(t)ion 

where you underneath are lifted into a stratagem &  

all the while egad clanks 

without prejudice saved as to costs where the body bends to dictate the bean counter as my private light?  

incised in halting vanes & extruded all 

to a kind of mock light under camomile infusion 

I brushed with ill feeling to turn from a direct line 

of heraldic pine wood & self-mutter

into O lovely wall ground & mine delivered here by 


said pointmaker twitching by the lifting bar 

a fourth step was added I did not see 

& I have fallen back inside, 

a claimants hole 8pence wide 6 foot deep 

pricks my bleak croak inside

makes short work of sentry bot, protectron 

& mister handy where death hangs as a perpetual referendum in which all vote pound by pound, day by day, 

between countless goods & services 

O dogholed & unnumbered referendum blunted 

our torturing hour God hooked 

this grim night Dominic Raab my glory holed

my dream holed my peepholed 

turniped to bedevil his government &

not mine did chain nothing to nothing 

tight in stifling light handed down upon the head 

& to wait & to be inside your throats camera rig finally 

to speak through you tenderly as you write 

to the European Research Group your maiden speech 

closing with the divine nature of your indignation 

of the worst idlers in the world! to see the mucus plug of you streaked with blood to open to clanks

beareth ungrafted with worms & locus suds

O grim night again I break my teeth upon the ledger 

hit a brick wall, grind down into the shape of a V prostrated &ask  

what is a blue at Oxford? 

(a) sickle prick spiking my chest chide, unhorned

(b) a twitching lesion of gullets 

or (c) sealed to cough & look pale 


Of a man 

that night broke off on O'er government minded shit

increase the affordability of the system now

left in peril while my childer has unreturned 

when William of Orange came to the throne 

made me sick & blue in heart & mind

through a crannied hole a whispered sunk my earglow

I hold you here, root & all, in my hand 

I hear you speak to my heart Dominic Raab

your tender broken voice  

bequeathed of Dr Cahlloner's Grammar school, a choke

sapping my pleas as I tuneful enough talk about the job in a plausible manner, doomed on

cut myself wide by integer of Fiscal Stylus a hole, 

 of competition re-hangs to stick on your door i remaining

8pence widened O & on this halted night to live out 

through spectral hands 

& to duty tender & to take your places shiver

& to scorn did fall upon me covered below 

for lust of your strength 

so brazen under the frosted light 

imagined tears that you detest & seek to kill dead

or mime or throw upon yourself in bladdered call

yelping out all the hate you bury glibly in your beaded eyes  

a lust of strength to break all rime to cost 

egad life for all life is measure broke Pareto efficiency & to be snapped &made into a signet

of your unalloyed brilliance &bedazzle of your histories past

carved out of eyries inside the body politic a body that

I ditch every night under gilded light 

void me of all concentric curses, 

the curvatures of isoquant

& of all the worlds rime felled in bloodless ears

to sing sweet your life's fever & shrill bitterness 

will unreign & I seek death 

& reasonable adjustments to my workplace immediately 

o god on farced o go & do o god o o o god & in competences are a billfold bound & burnt  

of (e.g. human) warmth 

body clamps tight-ENDS-chamfered at the bit 

my sick balance of (e.g. human) warmth 

hangs onto that obscure point where the situation concentrates its law by clanks   

 fuck off

duffer.  I am red in the face & its  

a known 2008 carnation

the burden of employment regulation in the UK 

has swollen six times over the last 30 years through its being at once sovereign & subtracted from all thought

spit in the gale of what might have been narrow, barren, rough, & unprofitable hoping, perhaps, to grace strangers who are both unworthy & ungrateful for the 

sake of an island of silver hazard 

the loss of one gold & what has been or to will be 

more cruel, I. I Have Always Worked Hard 

my tongue on ballcock itch prosperity

teeth sworn in brokers of dominium  

you should be treated like 

clamps in factotum a mock signal 

how cloudbursts have been 

& what has been new 

an invisible toll for 

guillotines I do not know. 

                             other echoes 

murderess, v-necked lemures 

dig anti-fends & nattering hole stricken rouse

Margaret Thatcher’s graft.           No.

Margaret Thatcher’s gramophone .           No. 

Margaret Thatcher’s grace.           No.  

three yobs in Margaret Thatcher’s grain. sunk

a knuckle in 2008 undated

for 36 yobbos of (e.g. human) warmth burnt venal 

for the most dedicated fathom imagine 

 – who broke the stratagem – disclosed the most ridiculous

in 2008 

I was 12 years old dead

scrapped to cheeks a lull for teeth inside 

closed harmlessly thin &armfuls crossed stretched

within winters discontent 

my fulfillment died in warehouses 

in transept weary dog-tired &do you 

slowly see through workshy off to weaponize 

of weakening is heart-warming 

do you live & work within enemy lives 

your duff life spent on 

that which died in warehouses 

O blossom stiff lodged in flue 

the pivot hole sticks again to you

in the rigid queues &always at minus

that on teeth to be willing to 

& do you slowly see plied from squatting

creeps out of your luck 

 a lifetime under workhouse indices 

you say under birthright 

Peter Cruddas Baron Cruddas, 

a tombola for a heart 

no servant bids for you

turning dot on dot

in rigid & always at minus

that teeth creep out of luck 

being what & as they are now

Boy Scouts into escaping when I speak to you 

of vexations &vials we present now to one

another as no substructure

 Cruddas, having been created Baron Cruddas, of Shoreditch in the London Borough of Hackney, was introduced & took the oath, supported by Lord Leigh of Hurley & Baroness Stuart of Edgbaston, & signed an undertaking to abide by the Code of Conduct crucifixion poised all stolen excursion 

give us

       the clock out of beat

                   where you use to hide 

 or ticktock, ticktock inside 

at each putting deep cover & light cover

Peter Andrew Cruddas, 

having been created Baron Cruddas, a cur

inside that common ailments are meant

heil downer raked to the groundsheet 

 of the Vote leave campaign in careless magnet have

summoned forth your child larynx/ C-M-C 

you &your coinages to evade in wronging lists & teeth

today trampled in the rotunda a fascist coiled my skin

of Baron Cruddas sins

considered a manifestation of God's proof 

& his atheistical carriage, 

in unfaithfulness &stubbornness 

caressing to become undone twisted 

at the ordinances you wear a crown of thorns

to summon forth which we are led to mean

 the actual slumping of your body forever

Baron Cruddas 

inside the heart of the young 

a crammed beat & crushed where you use to hide 

when you were poor of common ailments 

loosely dreaming a clock in a beat mine &put this 

clock out of beat of Cruddas use to cry

inside alms a broken stitch

where you use to hide 

 or ticktock, ticktock inside

heirloom pummeled in gone thimbleful 

to proud the varicose upon dead vows 

a broken Clegg bite unstitched 

with what hour it is rictus-pilled

to sentry decimal's erupting 


Baron Cruddas, 

tomorrow closed for & filled 

with desiccated incentives the whole darkness 

into a medical restriction of the bold

rains to take for exclamation the xenophobias, the screens

ALL individuals (organisms) exist in a continually changing world of experience (phenomenal field) of which they are the superintended & I would like to be at the other hand 

receiving the hardness of facing you transparent 

to bore a hole as he was named 

on swollen grave inconsequence

decided not to look inside 

my crawling eyelids had their URLs 

redirected in a silent creak of armaments  


today of prerogative powers such as those relating to the making of treaties the defence of the realm, the prerogative of mercy & the granting of honours the dissolution of parliament is a flame to see inside again 

the richest man in the City of London, 

it stays there this eternal emblem of providence 

& could be taken for granted is the body of special privileges & of freedom of arrest & access to the sovereign in a lower tribunal,

a hand dropped goes down to pay double

& your own Cash for Hons. 

there is no possible way of making an inference

from the existence of one situation 

to the existence of another, you said quid pro quo

& closed the door to ashes we cannot infer 

& your spawn will bare the title The Hon'bles, 

The strength, & the function of the Senses, 

& other faculties change & fail

Peter Baron Cruddas, 

I hunger despot tears in vermin tracery spoiled

over a colourless writhing 

through the flue of your throat 

clods separations with weighting points 

prognosis variations, scatter graphs 

whilst you are piss craved on bended knee 

for Tory clubhouse insignias 

uncircle this night of wetrooms  

& desexualising ermine trimmed jackets 

infected our uplands of suck & stoles 

self-refund woodpiles & the laughter of burning 

of fetish cries tip the edge of nothing  

back bind this secured to night 

from heart’s disguise,

strike down to my soul here 

still on their cheeks, 

whimper their way through 

‘Abide With Me’ 

fast falls the eventide;

the darkness deepens; lord with me abide.

When other helpers fail & comforts flee, 

help of the helpless, O abide with me. 

Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day 

Earth’s joys grow dim; its glories pass away, 

Change & decay in all around I see;

O Thou who changest not, abide with me. 

Eyes like in a  bush of nettles

a loud scree Rishi a mothball belly collapses 

I saw feral boys wandering 

with cracked heads all reckless with stones 

looks  at  me  wide-eyed,

bewildered, drops onto himself in a pile,

stretches slowly out, crawls on

& things like that Dido Harding, you see her 

after a cyber attack a Malware crash button Hepatitis B 

or something revealing the details 

of a million petalled faces falling as 

anonymity is sacred Cedric, Epaulette, Falcon, Rochester, 

Waterford, Yeastvite & Zara deboned 

Cool Dawn My National Velvet 

Dido Harding in the carbine ellipse mechanical

insects with black trunks that were told to

sting is anything representing a motorcade 

hate ricked with a heart of shrapnel 

our little empty lanyards dangle

out Serfton archangel partly swollen,

as hours never die soft 

in a rentiers ring-a-rosie

& to all the broad acres 

of Kennington Common downed formerly enclosing 

with other armholes such as larch & paste

My hon. 

landowner crimps menials  

& tendon maturities plugged end to end 

trespass on land & you will be kicked hard 

one inch below the heart

two below the head

no doctor will console you 

no doctor will defend your blood gargled hole 

from overflowing in the corner your mouth 

upon a blundered pane of glass 

a mirrored grey sallow face appearing 

kissing all the while the back of your now dead neck 

thumbing & fingering 

Michael Richard Weatherley 

summoned the whole of canting arms 

otherwise known as LASPO

as per Weatherley's law 

non-residents terms were made, helmet sowed

in favour of c3orporate body that closed holes

big mass, heavy, dark,

was an enclosure was by those who acted together 

was united in one person was before the sovereign 

when any lord shall enter Parliaments chamber

to assign to him his place, according his dignity 

& degree, to carry the ensign of said order

for the offence of abstracting electricity, 

or climbing through an open window 

knocked the maximum sentence or 

cordoned scrap my die-sinker 

you revel in & say

the plans are ready & the builders fingers 

are itching but the old corroding saying

we must work closely with local enforcement authorities  

 my eyebrows drop on rubber truncheons

Who is dead, who feigns death not to be dead? 

& it is late & my soul is dark pavements I leaned against,  

looked in. 

My hon. Fiend will  

 throw pails you shied away from    

 smiling quietly for you I tear a balance sheet

to leave a property within 24 hours 

a hole as big as tenpence 

the glass my eye hurts, like

full of sand.  Splinters.  Well  trained  insects.  

We crawl away,  towards  the  hall,  & lay  still.   That

was  narrow.  Just around our heads.

flat on your belly.  Up the  stairs

"You  must  phone  the  Army,  to  have  them

repair the  window,  tell  them that I  am  not

doing anything! . . . 

"Did  you  hear the  Army radio ?

Mumbles  unconnected  things.  Looks

me  in  the  face as  if he didn't recognize me.

Keeps clicking away,  stops,  looks  around  with

a blank expression of te r r o r .

a warm  face of daily life    &

the coalesced pain is  unbearable.