Thursday 29 February 2024

Given Way to Rabbits (draft)

From the home counties to the ‘Red Wall’, 

Cornish riviera to Teesside marina 

the accession should be destroyed

given way to rabbits. 


Centrepoint broke by downdraft 

where the fountains were 

removed The Concrete Society 

gone underground brand engagement 

platforms annulled basking spots 

in the Outernet incopads gauze 

Tricorn blood makes no noise 

Paco Rabanne 1 Million walk-in JumboLand

Air Conditioned Nightmare,

where I ate your withered tie 

with Amarone & vetched Gillespies 

poured poppies down my briefs 

at the Naval & Military Club 

Long Bar sangfroid bombed 

as transmetropolitan Pink Gin 

runs out my mouth welt,, the cities shoulder 

wends to my cotched head

henbanes to tree-lines.   

British Transport Police Mosaics 

cerulean Amytheus cut vitrified 

ceramics nerve city quarter peals away 

in empty Quaver packets of Bloomberg’s pantry 

namelorn quiltpoisons RP’d in catarrh gilets

a breadcrumb trail laid across Moorfields 

in the arms of business 

& Sixtus Dominic Bonifaces

would hold the annual coconuts shy 

on the bowls pitch 

all would be burning 

the European Maritime Safety Agency 

manifesto proud as Judges which live on fire. 

Loitering air piss sunk like ancient corners 

flint parsed national jeremiads, you surrender

ghost-catching spectres & occult thievery 

on the premises of the Federationist League 

fugued signs of stolen municipal chairs

extracted the critical fronds around themselves 

framed wet-winged broods 

on bin-bags the living raking thin 

low resolution mirrors 

thresholds injured slow curdle 

the starlings of newly widened centre arches 

& pavement of City Roads its agoraphobia, 

forged the inmost epistle flax, shareholders children 

watch as they start carving up 

the Ossulton Estate double-helix 

crick shaped, the function room into flats

& 275 tonnes of  Westmorland Green slate

painted Vanta black. 

Friday 16 February 2024

Céileachair your House is on Fire


Céileachair your House is on Fire, 

your clothes are burning 

Longphorts, raids 

hear Granny talk about 

Clonfin Ambush, Longford 

the arrival of the first Civic Guards, 

her father 19 men, 2 lorries, 

reinforcements 150 men

14 lorries later British Forces burned 

inside glass houses

& still water the dead apple tree

checkpoints, patrols, house raids

& Granny, behind the glassdoor 

the weight of the body 

mainly on her fingers 

feet back to stand on tip-toes

one of the 'five techniques' 

 sad bowing sunk of breath 

a bough of drink in disguise 

the Planter & Gael 

Pink Angels delight in an aquamarine

dessert bowl after skirts & kidney 

where nought is wasted 

no mulberry wrinkles inside me

Granny from the bridge over 

Darkes Lane masonry falls 

the Grand Fern Pine it’s empties glint

Céileachair banned 

under Orbital ceiling

the faded grey gnomes 

painted white the brambles

as well hammers,

beautiful wires, people

the milkstar rose in is

low iring

Céileachair of natural need 

in gelignite or disgust & the opposite

is reflected the whole history 

‘Madame, you are not allowed 

in this Safeway, the next Safeway 

is in on Honeypot Lane,’ &

laugh & stumble away, 

pissed at Baptism Confirmation,

Eucharist asymmetric warfare

The Hay Wain in a broken gilded frame, 

that bitumen black tumulus

under Sun King is rotting culture 

that restoration oils can’t cede

‘Lady, you're barred from Tesco.’ 

yet spider hatchery as spiderlings do, 

dispersing as far as the bookcase 

Dirty Mick PADDY O’ Bastard 

Why is your hair always grey?

& why do you wear bleach 

stained purple dresses?                     

the Audi a4 Quattro Clutch Replacement 

is your new address 

closed gardens candytuft tiles

in Yellow Lake Deep 

blown across fireplace 

a catchment area 

in a cul-de-sac 

of search & destroys

on damp dogtoothed carpet tiles 

replaced Bairstoweves 

like ladybugs Mary Our Lady 

For Sale, her seven joys & her seven sorrows

filled empty gin bottles

& your children are gone

muttering? What is a mother? ing 

to move in silver hay, in Woolworths 

innocence is true & you knew 

Céileachair, your House is on Fire, 

your clothes are burning 

your bones are somewhere else  

near Elstree Studios, 

Clockwork Orange Durango 95’ 

lane outside Brickett Wood running 

from Munden House 

to School Lane, was the 

Police Landrover / ‘Trough Beating’ scene

would remind you that 

‘you canst thou draw out Leviathan 

with an hook? Or tongue with a cord 

thou lettest down?’ 

suffering of that particular intensity 

& cruelty into the orange light 

let down to drown & sink by the word 

in the Name of the Father, 

Gardaí nunnery rebuke

all the way down the banisters 

gastric contents intraluminal 

My Lady Paddy O’ Bastard.

Thursday 15 February 2024

For B.S (draft)

Stupid working class Kent scum

I’m the lumpen denominator, 

signed austerity into

12 stars over my eye 

a technical ripstop

Made in Italy Cocoon shaped

in the morning beating matchsticks

out of your head to gentler fingerdust  

banderole canting       

Angleterre bouillante

on one leg burrowed in 

annuities, solstices, sanctuaries, woes 

breakthrough heart my brassic

in wiping off at the diadem floodlights 

tonight a social totality 

lies outside me, again thorned

around dead fens being dead. 

The underclass discussed 

on mumsnet 

Do we have one? Why?

Who or what is responsible?

When did it all go wrong?

Answers on a postcard 

frontier spirited Rosewood 

Calf Leathers kick me down 

this gangway job pissed town 

is yours in a sports bags, 

the Empire strikes back  

on rattan rabid 

its world of elegance  

& charm kneed high O

leave my aching brain

pennies in jowl linoleum canceled 

to granny’s grey gnomes 

painted white brambles

melancholia hammers, 

beautiful wires, clemencies

rolled up on goldenrods 

pity with Black-eyed Susans 

& rust on toolhead Brook, 

rolls over my head

to wash pressed down bitters

engram after milligram 

below ground, 

nerve colonnades to prigs 

I had turned back

to scatter in the grass 

milkstar flowerose for home 

is in luglow iring on mattresses in Kitchens 

a hole Turret stone,

my pinpricked chest 

hallows iron darts try my back 

its free cheap space, of claret rage  

with emerald tuck smeared at Penarth 

unsoldered to crosstongue 

chirrup centres enterprise 

white hankies inside Veolia 

bin lures said.