I wish I had beautiful cuticles,
not these ingrowing scorbuticals..
The hall returned to its rented state
by the party's emptying,
re-stacked stiff back plastic chairs,
and nothing remained of them
I drove Joel to the Dead Sea, we circled Jerusalem, in hindsight a preview of Europe’s guarded future, he sighted soldiers, boys and girls, occasionally clumped, common as olive trees, drab, but uprooted too early, guarding entry to and from our concentration of gods; also called, in Arabic, al-Quds, that place, the oldest city in...
Oh My God my poo is purple!
Bowel cancer, googled - for certain!
Then I remember last night’s feast:
A brace of beetroot, I was p*ssed
Over Buxted, into folklore,
our sniggered-search for Nan Tuck,
the ghost of those woodlands,
a crone, flown from The Uck
Her guarantee - they will die
under an atom bomb,
air-burst over Guildford,
God knows why so random
Cameron Bear hummed a tune,
thinking Hurrah, it's now through;
indoors, Piglet offered
a warm, loving hug,
Ullage, the short difference,
to be re-recorded
in the skinny red book,
behind a jar of slippery