Monday 12 September 2022



RIP the working class

& while you’re at it backing

tholse pain tings, in melamine 

Yellow plaintive 5 year chembinge 

fist in the ground, the plastic 

Bank of America Proud Patron Saint 

ashtray of terrified Russian fur hats

check hourly notifications,  

sign into austerity five-pointed

spitball sermon in the morning 

beat matchsticks out of your own head

fall into amygdala hijacked to manja line

chainmailed Complaints & Corrections

a prefatory note to the 

PMC to go back to Degenerated Worker States

members of the 1 percent rise up

& scribe swindled things 

to gentler sounding fingerdust.

RIP the working class

parlez-vous folksmart

laying aggy footmarks 

on dogsbody roughcast strung up 

to high heavens where the social pathology

of a greasy pole gets delivered

time sensitive working papers

filled in the mouths of

The Transmitted Deprivation Research Programme 

home-made casualties

within artificial hellcaps

get wrungtrotted days on nopay 

piss under no boss

in Jack of PLATE toxing bed,

stiffen chartered hails

come down, choir boy Chartwells 

milligram by milligram

the spithaw berries get glued

to rags with cultivar traits

the pit of the good people? 

the good shovel? the good holes?

emulsified vain fistfuls 

sold matrixes like pills out a bough 

bract naked the seed inside your throat

a battleground lost & the skies

spark & die with zephyrs

over city interns 

burning the magic roundabout 

to teeth wet brogues

rip the working class a recruitment

blasted agency firmament vaults all life

to thrice your spine as the pin-drudges

and seize your heart as it raises 

to a clog the medicament pall, 

falls out histrionically

& gone suddenly to half-day firebrands

in stamens scriven cold.