Sunday, 18 September 2016


Corrupting every schoolboy’s favourite quote –
that rulers were made to be broken –
I shattered it before I had
a chance to use it even once;
the see-through one I stole to measure
the many distances between us.

Wednesday, 14 September 2016

A Real No-Brainer

“All the Democrats needed to do was find a warm human body to beat Trump. Maybe not even that; a wardrobe or perhaps a ham sandwich could have won the race. It’s as though they’ve scoured the country in order to find the only person who might be able to lose this election.”

      - Guardian Comment is Free contributor

The President need be no more
Than Cupboard Space or Parquet Floor,
Or Garden Gate or Sparkly Wig,
Or Tutu-Wearing Dancing Pig.

The President this year could be
A Biscuit Dunked in Builder’s Tea,
A Doorstep Sandwich Filled with Ham,
A Wardrobe or the Hoover Dam.

They’ve had a Bush, they’ve had a Carter,
They could have picked a Burning Martyr,
A Smoking Gun, or Frying Pan,
To beat the Odd-haired Orange Man.

Instead they chose a Coughing Fit,
A Can of Worms, a Lying Twit,
To do their bidding on the stump –
And in so doing, gave us Trump.

Wednesday, 7 September 2016

I dream of rusted pipes

I dream of rusted pipes
my margin notes proclaim.

As far as I’m aware, though,
I’ve never dreamt of rusted pipes.

It isn’t much of an ambition, either,
to dream of rusted pipes.

But there it is, in grey and white:
I dream of rusted pipes.

Tuesday, 6 September 2016

you said you wanted timelessness i gave you a mindreading clock

carved with a tight grip
sealed with a sideways glance
tears glum faces
awkward conversations
r   a   i   n
wednesdays will be good
in the opinion of flowers
no more poetry