The Cost of Loving I love you more than life itselfbut I swear I’ll love you betterif you let me turn the heating offand you wear another sweater. I cannot get enough of you –I’m completely in your thrall.I love to watch you bending overto unplug the telly at the wall. Yes, you’re the only…
writing
An Invention of Collective Nouns A reckoning of spreadsheets.A distraction of smartphones.A prattle of podcasts.A mispronunciation of scones. A clique of photographers.A heard of precedents.An enjambment ofpoets. A grope of presidents. A pile of haemorrhoids.A bunion of personal trainers.A bout of estimations.A condescension of mansplainers. A stroke of geniuses.A spot of adolescents.An embarrassment of Richards.A…
Billionaire in a Midlife Crisis He’s swapped designer jeans and flashy carsFor designer spacesuits and trips to MarsWhere he watches Earth turn on its axisWith its stupid people paying taxesHe’s indulging all his whims and vicesHe’s a billionaire in a midlife crisis He’s got plans to end world povertyOnce his new hair’s lost its noveltyHe’s…
I Did Not Tell Death Where I lived I did not tell Death where I lived –But he has found me all the same.I hear his knock upon my doorAnd the calling of my name. My Snapchat settings kept him out.On Instagram I blocked him.Facebook friend requests were spurned –Yet still he keeps on knocking.…
On Tender Hooks Let me cut to the cheese:every time you open your mouth,I’m on tender hooks. You charge at the English languagelike a bowl in a china shop.I wish you’d nip it in the butt. On the spurt of the moment,another eggcorn tumbles out.It’s time you gave up the goat. Curve your enthusiasmand don’t…
The Poet Now Standing at Platform 3A The poet now standing at platform 3Ais the delayed 14.30 speaker for the Wits’ End Poetry Festival, calling at: Longwaite; Anguish; Bleakside;Much Wallowing-in-the-Mire; Little Hope; Hangdog Manor; High Dudgeon; Irk; Fuckham; Mope; Doldrum Parkway; Wearyside Central; and Wits’ End. We are sorry to announce this poet is delayed…
Logomachy To say that Damianwas sesquipedalianwould be an understatement for there was no abatementin his capacity for loquacityand not one trace of temerityin his pursuitof verbal dexterity. It was precisely this pompositymixed with verbositywhich made him describeKieran Thomas as “crepuscular”. Kieran Thomas was also more muscular. Damian nursed his black eyeand hoped Kieranmight be struck…
How Hard It Is to Be the Moon How hard it is to be the moon.I hang palely in the sky,while all else shines and sparklesand the shooting stars go by. And on Earth, the useless poetsscribble words in praise of mefor recital by young lovers,gazing moonstruck at the sea. For a time I had…
Late Twentieth-Century Techno-Funk Wake-Up Call Get up.Get on up. Beep. Get up.Get on up. Beep. Threep. Get up.Get on up. Beeeeep. Threeeeep. Stay on the scenelike a fax machine.
Crow’s Day Off Crow woke early.He had a surfeit of worms; the nest was in good repair.The whole day stretched in front of him,like a sweep of clear blue sky. Today, he would take his time.Maybe he wouldn’t head straight to Bob’s to watch the game,but go and hang out in the meadow for a…