Friday, 19 June 2015

Advertisement Idea For Rosetta Stone

Late at night
About half past dark
Cows meow
And horses bark.

Dogs copy frogs
Pigs say "baa"
Sheep make the sound of a passing car.

Mice roar
Chipmunks cheep
Clams copy vans (a bit like the sheep).

Hummingbirds whistle - I know, it's crazy
Ducks still quack
But they're just fucking lazy.

You can learn too
Wherever you are
Strolling in the park
Or having sex in a car
Rearranging your nads, reading ads on the tube
Or trussed up in a dungeon while your friend applies lube.

And I know it's not as easy as making a sandwich

But it's a skill, and a thrill

Learn a foreign language.

Thursday, 23 April 2015

Fly Garden Disco

Fly, why
Do you buzz in the sky
With your mates, in square shapes
Like you're trapped in crates
Invisible to the naked eye
Is it the WiFi, why fly, why?
The way you dance, take a chance, delight me
But I'll make a stance:

Don't you fucking bite me

From high, up by
The conservatory roof
You don't want my blood
It's 40% proof;
I've been drinking wine, well it's been a long day
Don't make me preach
Or I'll reach for the fly spray
Soon
There's moon
And they drifted away
Well that's what flies do at the end of the day
In stranger shapes
On different axes
And some with their mum
In butterfly taxis.

Goodbye fly
You're pretty fly
For a fly.

Sunday, 19 April 2015

Pond

Pond must ring up cloud
To ask for more pond
So he can be sea.

Saturday, 28 March 2015

Warning: Heart Thieves Operate In This Area

Nancy, oh Nancy
It's you that I fancy
You make my bones shake
And I feel all antsy
From the first sight I might have got 
A frying pan in the face
A second Big Bang
Stopping time and space 
An English rose with a pretty nose
My pupils dilated
I feel like cheese feels
When it's just been grated
Like a Messerschmidt's bullets hit me
Running up my spine
I'm so messed up I can't even think of the next line
If love were an illness 
I've a really bad case
It's like my heart left my chest
And went and punched me in the face
And when I catch a quick flick of your slick brown hair
It's like I'm beating myself repeatedly 
With the leg of my chair
I quiver like a river
In Gosport, Hants
But the thing I think most about
Is Nancy's pants
Yeah ok I realise that bit's a bit naughty
(Like I know you're 24 and I'm over 40)
But whatever, it's just a number and it's plain to see
Like a bank robber
You really did a number on me.

Thursday, 11 September 2014

Moth

Moth
You need to get off
My cloth
And my lightbulb, soon
Because I’m not the moon
And you should’ve been advised
When you got here too soon
That the sky’s
Big, like a sponsord-ised gig
And you’ve been waiting in the wings
To flap your dainty little things
Dry
But don’t cry
As you chew through my vest
ed interests
Coz I
Am as vain as the next guy
On foot rests
Who prefers legs to breasts
And thigh.

I hear your sigh
And just wonder why it’s human nature to objectify
I
Have always preferred the butterfly
And that’s a dry little metaphor
For
Life.
Still at least we can sigh
And then go under the knife
And have the lips of a clown without being pinned down.

In the end nobody loses
We just choose the bruises
Be it the dominant forces resources
Or the freedom fighter’s Kalashnicov…
I don’t care,
I just stare
And hate your constant buzzing

Moth.

Monday, 26 May 2014

A Poem I Can't Remember The Title Of‏

I’d like to broach a subject that my friends find unbearable
It’s my memory…
And it’s fucking terrible. 

Now, it’s nothing to do with laziness or a lack of respect
I listen to all you say, I just
Don’t always recollect. 

It’s a stillness, an illness, like my mind’s been blinded
Yeah I’ll meet you down the pub, I just need to be reminded.

It’s useless, toothless, a mental brick wall
I even forgot the plot of Total Recall. 

Like a manual car without a clutch
Or a Braille sign that says “Do Not Touch”
It’s pointless,
It’s a breeze on the far side of Venus
It’s small and it’s shrivelled,
Like a cold man's penis.
Like an itch on a knee at the London Palladium
My memory’s like a fart in a football stadium.

It’s insignificant, largely irrelevant 
It won't engender jealousy in a clich├ęd elephant.

I’m not enjoying this toying, it’s annoying as hell
Apparently I wrote this line before, but it doesn’t ring a bell.

My memory is cold, like the old in December 
I would tell you more, but I just can't...um...oh…what’s the word?

Sunday, 14 July 2013

Kardashian Kar Krash

Why is your passion
On ration
Like it’s gone out of fashion?
You’ve perfected the trick of making me sick
Like I’m watching the Kardashians
Who think we’re enlightened when they whiten their teeth
Or get new tints
The vacuous bints
And that twatish bloke with the jumper round his neck. 
I’m no fighter
But I’d love to pull it tighter
Life would be better to see you swing
From the ceiling
Attached to an Arran sweater.

But I’m better than this
And I don’t know if you got the gist
It’s just I’d love your expensive watch
To list
Like a ship
And slip
To the floor
From your limp, dead wrist.

I’m in my prime
But I could turn to crime
Do time
And yeah it might seem that I’m
Being rash
But just a cheeky little car crash
Would do the job.
I know this bloke, Bob
The Everest of man-mountains
Who could sort it in such a manner
Like Diana
But with less memorial fountains.

And I know wishing death on someone is a little far

But I’d supply the car

If that’s what it takes

It just wouldn’t have brakes.

But I digress
I went off road
Like I hope their fucking car does
NO!
I’m joking
I’m just poking fun, I’m provoking
I’m karaoke-ing with a lie that I can’t deny:
I don’t really want the Kardashians to die.

I want them tortured

To within an inch of their celebrity life
Like I’d get one red ant
And his ant wife
To eat them alive
Starting at opposite ends
Until they arrive
Together
And all that survives
Is their eyes
So they can watch their demise
In HD, like me
And their shitty TV show
I so
Despise.

Wise
Men would say turn over
But I don’t control the TV in our house
I haven’t got the nous
I’m timid as a mouse
I haven’t even got a spouse
Just my girls
Steph and Emma
It’s not much of a dilemma
And I don’t moan when you don’t replace the loo roll
Or leave the key in the front door
But that Kardashian programme’s poor
And QI’s on the other side
And even silence is better for the mind
And I’m sorry for speaking while you’re watching
But please, please, please
Whatever you do

Don’t rewind.