I met a man Made of meringue In Leeds the other day, I went to shake his hand But his hand crumbled away. Continue reading Dessertion

I met a sheep optician But she kept telling me lies, Every time we met she’d Pull the wool over my eyes. Continue reading Trust

Used by few to ring bad news Abused and bruised by brooding youths A sign in life that all is lost, It’s an inner-city phone box. Litter sits in someone’s spit A person pissed disperses piss A germaphobe lies dead from shock, In an inner-city phone box. Bits of porn dangle from doors A condom’s sprawled across the floor Love goes unpriced but sex will … Continue reading Inner-City Phone Box

We all have a favourite place. Hot, cold, wet or dry By the sea or in the sky Where lovers catch each other’s eye, We all have a favourite place. Finger tips tickled by grass Or sand between the tips of toes. Sunlight shot through panes of glass Or shaded shapes where no light goes, We all have a favourite place. Where seasons without reason … Continue reading Favourite Place

“What makes you weak at the knees?” Asked Steve the sleaze. In leaned Neave. Their fingers weaved like ivy leaves or branch and tree. Suddenly pulling Neave, Steve seized the space between their jeans. She did not believe those were his keys but – not displeased – she gently squeezed and keen Steve wheezed. Their blushed cheeks and pushed hips teased as flushed lips eased. … Continue reading Weak at The Knees

Her hair cascades like waterfalls of brine Around small ears, tender to the touch, It marinades her neck and upper spine And runs through fingers like a liquid would. Her eyes are like two chestnuts on the roast, Strawberry skins make for her dimpled cheeks, Her lips are like two orange segments closed, Her kiss is like the first fresh bite of peach, Her chest … Continue reading She Looks Good Enough to Eat

The bus has stopped its rattle, Destinations out of range. The passengers like cattle Scatter bagless into rain. But one sits still in slumber Stiff and stubborn in her seat. Her head is rested on the glass, The floor supports her feet. An arm lays thin across her womb Protecting secrets lost. The other hangs, a pendulum But from a broken clock. Her lips and … Continue reading Murder on the National Express

Commuters pass a pile of tat, Some rubbish that they might have thrown, Old blankets, cups, a grubby hat, One shoe unlaced all on its own, A box, a bag, a bottle smashed, A mound of fags only half smoked, A wallet robbed of all its cash, A wire loose from something broke. One T-shirt stained, one treasure gained, The man collecting scraps alone, A … Continue reading Treasure

I wandered slowly, as a clown En route to make the sick kids laugh, When all at once I saw the frowns, A host, of upset hospice staff; They crossed their arms, they blocked the doors, I was not welcome anymore. Belligerent as the stars online Who rise to fame through getting drunk, They stretched in never-ending lines Across the kiddie hospice front: Ten thousand … Continue reading Laughadils

The weatherman is never wrong There isn’t point in having one Just have a sign: “More rain to come” Coz it always fuckin’ rains here. We know not of the sun or moon Because the clouds hide them from view Our sky is grey instead of blue Coz it always fuckin’ rains here. The water rises over land Squashing crops and killing plants We’ve never … Continue reading It Always Fuckin’ Rains Here