.IcyRoad.
Grit lorry, spreads load.
Skipping like marbles down road,
scratching all the cars.
Monday 29 December 2008
Sunday 28 December 2008
Wednesday 24 December 2008
Sunday 21 December 2008
some more haikus
.SkinnyJeans.
Man in skinny jeans,
studded belt, large check print shirt.
Loath you, Bohemo.
.Icehockey.
Sticks crack like thunder.
Ice cut up, like torn paper,
puck slapped into net.
.FreshSheets.
Damn you clean bedsheets,
cant smell my fart. All I get
is your citrus fresh.
Man in skinny jeans,
studded belt, large check print shirt.
Loath you, Bohemo.
.Icehockey.
Sticks crack like thunder.
Ice cut up, like torn paper,
puck slapped into net.
.FreshSheets.
Damn you clean bedsheets,
cant smell my fart. All I get
is your citrus fresh.
Saturday 20 December 2008
snooker
now is snooker a racist game?
the way I see it is this, you're the white ball and your aim is always to try to put the colours down and you save the black to last, so its just the white left on the table. You score more for potting the black, so you always try to pick on the black, working your way around the table, picking off the reds, yellow and brown. Continuing to knock down the black, for a higher score, no wonder some still have a chip on their shoulders. The white ball knocks about the table and comes to a halt and knocks all those colours out of the way like the start of the expanision of the Empire, going about and bulleying the non whites of the table.
the way I see it is this, you're the white ball and your aim is always to try to put the colours down and you save the black to last, so its just the white left on the table. You score more for potting the black, so you always try to pick on the black, working your way around the table, picking off the reds, yellow and brown. Continuing to knock down the black, for a higher score, no wonder some still have a chip on their shoulders. The white ball knocks about the table and comes to a halt and knocks all those colours out of the way like the start of the expanision of the Empire, going about and bulleying the non whites of the table.
my journey home
The shadows move like oars
peddeling against the flow of this bus
closer to this final destination,
the more frantic the oars pace.
On this journey home.
Heaters blare out whitenoise
tying a dirty sticky burning knot inside
outside the rain beats down cold,
head cools against the window.
On this journey home.
The opposite flow headlights
shoot pastlike stars during warp speed
they disappear into the distance,
gone, like my hopes and dreams.
On this journey home.
Phones aggressively beeping
frustratingly, not alone in this coffin
caught coversations confuse me,
like those voices in my head.
On this journey home.
My mind can no longer wander
trapped like my body, stiff, creeks like
this lumpy seat I'm stuffed in
I'm almost regretably there.
On this journey home.
peddeling against the flow of this bus
closer to this final destination,
the more frantic the oars pace.
On this journey home.
Heaters blare out whitenoise
tying a dirty sticky burning knot inside
outside the rain beats down cold,
head cools against the window.
On this journey home.
The opposite flow headlights
shoot pastlike stars during warp speed
they disappear into the distance,
gone, like my hopes and dreams.
On this journey home.
Phones aggressively beeping
frustratingly, not alone in this coffin
caught coversations confuse me,
like those voices in my head.
On this journey home.
My mind can no longer wander
trapped like my body, stiff, creeks like
this lumpy seat I'm stuffed in
I'm almost regretably there.
On this journey home.
Tuesday 16 December 2008
xmas haiku
.ScroogeDrinks.
'Bah!' Modern day Scrooge.
'Get some Christmas spirit, try!'
'Double Eggnog please!'
'Bah!' Modern day Scrooge.
'Get some Christmas spirit, try!'
'Double Eggnog please!'
what you are
Something about you fills me with intrigue,
Never tire of your looks, I will not fatigue.
Your skin seems smooth, soft to the touch,
something I want to do soon, very much
Your eyes tinted, colour of mint ice cream.
'I am stunningly pretty,' out they scream.
I will look down at my shoes all coy. Shy,
you're appealing like a cooling apple pie.
Never tire of your looks, I will not fatigue.
Your skin seems smooth, soft to the touch,
something I want to do soon, very much
Your eyes tinted, colour of mint ice cream.
'I am stunningly pretty,' out they scream.
I will look down at my shoes all coy. Shy,
you're appealing like a cooling apple pie.
more haikus
.ChristmasAngel.
My fairy sits proud,
pearching, top of christmas tree.
Above this bad crowd.
.Commute.
People wait for train.
Crowding together, a herd
of yearning sad cows.
.LieIn.
Turn slowly, bed creaks.
Lift head from warm snug pillow,
a nice long lie in.
.Winter.
Snow, the purest thing.
Covers all, those deep dark sins,
in this modern world.
.FatCats.
Purring, contented.
Lapping at the Jersey cream,
greed will make you fat.
.Facebook.
Another damn poke.
Why, wont you leave me alone,
this blasted facebook.
.ConfusingSmells.
Gah! Perfume adverts,
you never make any sense,
to describe your scents.
.DadDancing.
Dancefloor is empty.
Leaving me free, to freestyle.
Doing the robot.
.PanicCat.
Shock. Heart beats hard,
Attacker forced on me. No!
That damn bloody cat!
My fairy sits proud,
pearching, top of christmas tree.
Above this bad crowd.
.Commute.
People wait for train.
Crowding together, a herd
of yearning sad cows.
.LieIn.
Turn slowly, bed creaks.
Lift head from warm snug pillow,
a nice long lie in.
.Winter.
Snow, the purest thing.
Covers all, those deep dark sins,
in this modern world.
.FatCats.
Purring, contented.
Lapping at the Jersey cream,
greed will make you fat.
.Facebook.
Another damn poke.
Why, wont you leave me alone,
this blasted facebook.
.ConfusingSmells.
Gah! Perfume adverts,
you never make any sense,
to describe your scents.
.DadDancing.
Dancefloor is empty.
Leaving me free, to freestyle.
Doing the robot.
.PanicCat.
Shock. Heart beats hard,
Attacker forced on me. No!
That damn bloody cat!
Monday 15 December 2008
wise old man haiku
.TheWiseDrink.
Wise old man once said.
'You cant make a cup of tea,
without a teabag.'
Wise old man once said.
'You cant make a cup of tea,
without a teabag.'
Sunday 14 December 2008
tingley kisses
My childhood favorite sweet,
pocket money spent on you.
Precisely cover you, neat
in the sherbet, fizz on my tongue.
Simple pleasure when I was young,
one of the Dip Dab crew.
You might have to stand on tip toes,
to kiss me.
But I'm the one left light footed.
I want to see,
where this might go, but who knows
Like my own firework display,
continuing to sparkle,
each and every day.
Butterfly kiss, delicate wings,
like vintage Moet & Chandon.
Tingles, such joyous things
no Cava here, just pure high class.
Full bodied, mature with bags of sass,
open my eyes, your gone.
You might have to stand on tip toes,
to kiss me.
But I'm the one left light footed.
I want to see,
where this might go, but who knows
Like my own firework display,
continuing to sparkle,
each and every day.
Just chew them greedly down,
a empty handful of pick n' mix.
swallowed with a frown
penny sweets are a cheap low sin.
You, my giant sized sherbet fountain
with your alka selter licks.
pocket money spent on you.
Precisely cover you, neat
in the sherbet, fizz on my tongue.
Simple pleasure when I was young,
one of the Dip Dab crew.
You might have to stand on tip toes,
to kiss me.
But I'm the one left light footed.
I want to see,
where this might go, but who knows
Like my own firework display,
continuing to sparkle,
each and every day.
Butterfly kiss, delicate wings,
like vintage Moet & Chandon.
Tingles, such joyous things
no Cava here, just pure high class.
Full bodied, mature with bags of sass,
open my eyes, your gone.
You might have to stand on tip toes,
to kiss me.
But I'm the one left light footed.
I want to see,
where this might go, but who knows
Like my own firework display,
continuing to sparkle,
each and every day.
Just chew them greedly down,
a empty handful of pick n' mix.
swallowed with a frown
penny sweets are a cheap low sin.
You, my giant sized sherbet fountain
with your alka selter licks.
some more haikus
.WinterPipes.
Burst water main pipe.
Frozen, winding towards drain,
like a bobsleigh run.
.LostFog.
Fog holds tightly close,
a frozen lingering cold.
Lost here in this place.
Burst water main pipe.
Frozen, winding towards drain,
like a bobsleigh run.
.LostFog.
Fog holds tightly close,
a frozen lingering cold.
Lost here in this place.
Saturday 13 December 2008
rusting plough haiku
.WiseOldPlough.
Season turns again.
Frost, creeps over rusting plough,
in corner of field.
Season turns again.
Frost, creeps over rusting plough,
in corner of field.
Friday 12 December 2008
Wednesday 10 December 2008
frozen puddle haiku
.AntsLake.
Puddle, frozen hard.
Cracks sharply, testing thickness
with a poking stick.
Puddle, frozen hard.
Cracks sharply, testing thickness
with a poking stick.
dirty stop out
Again, you make this morning trek
nothing more than a hungover wreck.
Head down walking, your heels click
like the sheriff in some western flick.
Your dress doesnt offer any protection
against your shame. Like an auction,
you went home with the highest bidder
its just leaves you feeling much cheaper.
Shivering, alone, walking through town,
full of self loathing, waiting to be found.
They look at you and feel them shout,
the words burn deep, 'you dirty stop out'.
Wanting to be centre of their attention,
yet for him you just provided a functon.
Kick you out without offer of breakfast
doesnt care, he sleeps on, not fussed.
Not even helping you to find your jumper,
your head says, get out of there, scarper.
Eyes no longer sparkle are far long dead,
dark thoughts again creep into your head.
Deep inside you cry, cheap dirty whore,
as you walk back through your front door,
wipe that old, worn makeup off your face,
scrubbing yourself clean with some pace.
Looking at yourself in the mirror you see,
your disappointed self, wanting to flee
nothing more than a hungover wreck.
Head down walking, your heels click
like the sheriff in some western flick.
Your dress doesnt offer any protection
against your shame. Like an auction,
you went home with the highest bidder
its just leaves you feeling much cheaper.
Shivering, alone, walking through town,
full of self loathing, waiting to be found.
They look at you and feel them shout,
the words burn deep, 'you dirty stop out'.
Wanting to be centre of their attention,
yet for him you just provided a functon.
Kick you out without offer of breakfast
doesnt care, he sleeps on, not fussed.
Not even helping you to find your jumper,
your head says, get out of there, scarper.
Eyes no longer sparkle are far long dead,
dark thoughts again creep into your head.
Deep inside you cry, cheap dirty whore,
as you walk back through your front door,
wipe that old, worn makeup off your face,
scrubbing yourself clean with some pace.
Looking at yourself in the mirror you see,
your disappointed self, wanting to flee
early morning haiku
.MorningGlory.
Early morning yawn,
open curtains, neighbour screams.
Look down at my horn.
Early morning yawn,
open curtains, neighbour screams.
Look down at my horn.
Sunday 7 December 2008
streetlight haiku
.OrangeGlow.
Rain drops on window
twinkle soft, like fairy lights.
through the streetlight glow
Rain drops on window
twinkle soft, like fairy lights.
through the streetlight glow
some more haikus
.AutumnSun.
Low hung winter sun.
Fire, food and shelter made,
tasks for today done.
.AutumnColours.
Winters colour range,
tea brown to brittle yellow.
Bleached by the low sun.
Low hung winter sun.
Fire, food and shelter made,
tasks for today done.
.AutumnColours.
Winters colour range,
tea brown to brittle yellow.
Bleached by the low sun.
santa pulled over by a police officer
.OnDutyPolice.
'Please blow into this.'
'Sorry, its these shots of port,
they leave out for me.'
'Please blow into this.'
'Sorry, its these shots of port,
they leave out for me.'
Saturday 6 December 2008
squirrel haiku
.AutumnMunchies.
Squirrel jumps through trees,
branches rattle like wind chimes,
searching for supper.
Squirrel jumps through trees,
branches rattle like wind chimes,
searching for supper.
reason 87# on why i couldn't be a archaeologist
'Whats that?'
'This?'
'Yeah that thing there, what are you doing?'
'Its a car pressure washer, this is taking too long to clean up this trench, so I'd thought if we use this we can clean everything up in 3 minutes and go down the pub, what do you say?
'Get out.'
'This?'
'Yeah that thing there, what are you doing?'
'Its a car pressure washer, this is taking too long to clean up this trench, so I'd thought if we use this we can clean everything up in 3 minutes and go down the pub, what do you say?
'Get out.'
Friday 5 December 2008
red haired wonder girl
The crowd moves around you,
a goddess surrounded
by her minions.
moving in a slow motion grace,
I cut a path across to you.
Forever remembered in my head.
Through your friends I create a space,
who hiss thier worthless opinions.
Again, this club remains so bland,
something catches my eye.
I stop and stare,
at your firey red hair.
Please dont ever use hair dye
your stunning and so grand.
When we meet the flintstones,
lady wilma of bedrock
I'd be better
than fred could ever aim to be,
house from dinosaur bones.
Built for you, carved stone block.
Stood in your tight white dress for me,
you are a fashion trend setter.
Again, this club remains so bland,
something catches my eye.
I stop and stare,
at your firey red hair.
Please dont ever use hair dye
your stunning and so grand.
The sambucca wincing my face,
as slowly build up my
dutch courage
to make my final defining move,
your beauty I long to trace.
Now take a deep breath and sigh.
to show you how much that I approve,
not only of your heaving cleavage.
a goddess surrounded
by her minions.
moving in a slow motion grace,
I cut a path across to you.
Forever remembered in my head.
Through your friends I create a space,
who hiss thier worthless opinions.
Again, this club remains so bland,
something catches my eye.
I stop and stare,
at your firey red hair.
Please dont ever use hair dye
your stunning and so grand.
When we meet the flintstones,
lady wilma of bedrock
I'd be better
than fred could ever aim to be,
house from dinosaur bones.
Built for you, carved stone block.
Stood in your tight white dress for me,
you are a fashion trend setter.
Again, this club remains so bland,
something catches my eye.
I stop and stare,
at your firey red hair.
Please dont ever use hair dye
your stunning and so grand.
The sambucca wincing my face,
as slowly build up my
dutch courage
to make my final defining move,
your beauty I long to trace.
Now take a deep breath and sigh.
to show you how much that I approve,
not only of your heaving cleavage.
Thursday 4 December 2008
lost then found
Awake in my room,
unable to move, because of all this pain.
Come, quench this rage pour down rain
until I'm nothing more.
Slumped on sidewalk,
struggling to see, destroyed by emotions.
Hurt me now, to cause further reactions
until I'm nothing more.
lying on a hospital bed,
unable to move because of the restraints.
Finally someone has heard my complaints,
now I'm home.
unable to move, because of all this pain.
Come, quench this rage pour down rain
until I'm nothing more.
Slumped on sidewalk,
struggling to see, destroyed by emotions.
Hurt me now, to cause further reactions
until I'm nothing more.
lying on a hospital bed,
unable to move because of the restraints.
Finally someone has heard my complaints,
now I'm home.
Wednesday 3 December 2008
my morning routine
I sit down to my shreaded wheat
drenched in skimmed milk, ice cold.
Morning routine never misses a beat
newspaper turned neatly with a fold,
Smoothing down my 'crazy' work tie
to avoid falling lumps of cereal flakes.
I let out a long, 'so, this is my life' sigh,
on the radiator todays y-fronts bakes.
Hot tea, sloshed down by huge gulps,
mouthfuls of toast, drowning in butter.
Interupted by loud heartburn burps,
opening delivered bills with a mutter.
drenched in skimmed milk, ice cold.
Morning routine never misses a beat
newspaper turned neatly with a fold,
Smoothing down my 'crazy' work tie
to avoid falling lumps of cereal flakes.
I let out a long, 'so, this is my life' sigh,
on the radiator todays y-fronts bakes.
Hot tea, sloshed down by huge gulps,
mouthfuls of toast, drowning in butter.
Interupted by loud heartburn burps,
opening delivered bills with a mutter.
more haikus
.SaunaBath.
Lowers gingerly
cupping my ball. A heat shield
against the hot bath.
.PressuresOfBeingASpider.
'Oh Mr Spider,
what a uniquely spun web.'
'Shut up, I'm still drunk.'
.You.
I'm with you because,
what makes everyday worthwhile,
is your longing smile
Lowers gingerly
cupping my ball. A heat shield
against the hot bath.
.PressuresOfBeingASpider.
'Oh Mr Spider,
what a uniquely spun web.'
'Shut up, I'm still drunk.'
.You.
I'm with you because,
what makes everyday worthwhile,
is your longing smile
candle light haiku
.TooPoorForElectricity.
Words on page strobe,
as I read by candle light,
orange flame flickers.
Words on page strobe,
as I read by candle light,
orange flame flickers.
sculptors
'So you’re a sculptor?'
'Yeah I sculpt in clay'
'So you’re a potter then?'
'Nooo, a sculptor.'
'But you use clay?'
'Yes.'
'So you’re a potter then.'
'Yeah I sculpt in clay'
'So you’re a potter then?'
'Nooo, a sculptor.'
'But you use clay?'
'Yes.'
'So you’re a potter then.'
carrier pigeon
I'm fed up of phone calls from banks and other services chasing you up about missing payments because your cheque has got lost, personally I think we should all go back to carrier pigeon, you know your bill comes through the door and its got a pigeon attached so you can just fill it out and send it back and it goes directly back no way of getting lost in the mail or anything.
Tuesday 2 December 2008
smoke rings
Three boys are talking about their dads smoking, the first boys says, "my dad is amazing he can blow smoke rings", the second boys says, "that’s nothing my dad can blow smoke out of his ears!", "that’s nothing", the third boy replies, "my dad can blow smoke out of his ass" "really" the other two boys reply, "have you seen him do it?" "no" replies the third, "but I have seen the tobacco stains in his pants!"
deperate eyes
Must remember, to make
A mental marker, of your position.
The way you look at me,
I know I'm in there,
Because of how you continue to stare.
I need a visual marker for recognition,
Just look for the girl
With the desperate eyes.
We watch you all grace the dancefloor
Separated by us, the sheep dogs,
To find our own fluffy cute lamb,
And giving the mutton
To our friend keith dutton
The things we do to try and score
To take home for some bam bam.
If im honest, to myself,
I can do better, no offence.
Return to the back-burner,
Hopeful number two,
I have got my reserve sticker on you.
Woman that will make my heart seize,
Who is a little better
Than what you have
We watch you all grace the dancefloor,
Separated by us, the sheep dogs,
To find our own fluffy cute lamb,
And giving the mutton
To our friend Keith Dutton.
The things we do to try and score,
To take home for some bam bam.
The sidelines, stand there
Lost, like a long forgotten substitute.
You get out there for your
Share of the attention.
Take a risk for some love retention,
This place full of ill gained disrepute
Here we look scanning,
Across the dance-floor
We watch you all grace the dance-floor
Separated by us, the sheep dogs,
To find our own fluffy cute lamb,
And giving the mutton
To our friend Keith Dutton
The things we do to try and score,
To take home for some bam bam.
I'm desperate, one final
Sweep to see if there are any takers,
Nothing interest in me,
I return your gone,
You were someone else's number one.
I'll take anything now, even those fakers
Alone, the lights flick on,
At the end of this final song.
A mental marker, of your position.
The way you look at me,
I know I'm in there,
Because of how you continue to stare.
I need a visual marker for recognition,
Just look for the girl
With the desperate eyes.
We watch you all grace the dancefloor
Separated by us, the sheep dogs,
To find our own fluffy cute lamb,
And giving the mutton
To our friend keith dutton
The things we do to try and score
To take home for some bam bam.
If im honest, to myself,
I can do better, no offence.
Return to the back-burner,
Hopeful number two,
I have got my reserve sticker on you.
Woman that will make my heart seize,
Who is a little better
Than what you have
We watch you all grace the dancefloor,
Separated by us, the sheep dogs,
To find our own fluffy cute lamb,
And giving the mutton
To our friend Keith Dutton.
The things we do to try and score,
To take home for some bam bam.
The sidelines, stand there
Lost, like a long forgotten substitute.
You get out there for your
Share of the attention.
Take a risk for some love retention,
This place full of ill gained disrepute
Here we look scanning,
Across the dance-floor
We watch you all grace the dance-floor
Separated by us, the sheep dogs,
To find our own fluffy cute lamb,
And giving the mutton
To our friend Keith Dutton
The things we do to try and score,
To take home for some bam bam.
I'm desperate, one final
Sweep to see if there are any takers,
Nothing interest in me,
I return your gone,
You were someone else's number one.
I'll take anything now, even those fakers
Alone, the lights flick on,
At the end of this final song.
my failure
Was invited, I should of been there,
your big day, you wanted to share
how do I respond to your generosity?
Being always to me a great big softee.
Those promises made, I never kept,
sat at home on your day and wept.
nothing I can do will ever repay
I have no excuses nothing I say,
can put me where I should of been
there for you friend, I could of seen
that big smile, as you start your life
as a lucky mans trouble and strife.
your big day, you wanted to share
how do I respond to your generosity?
Being always to me a great big softee.
Those promises made, I never kept,
sat at home on your day and wept.
nothing I can do will ever repay
I have no excuses nothing I say,
can put me where I should of been
there for you friend, I could of seen
that big smile, as you start your life
as a lucky mans trouble and strife.
Monday 1 December 2008
another winter haiku
.LonelyBed.
Icy cold morning.
Leg moves like windscreen wiper,
to re-heat the bed.
Icy cold morning.
Leg moves like windscreen wiper,
to re-heat the bed.
pillow lover
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