Feek Stink

Mostly a sock is much the same as the next.
Designers agonise over shades and logos
for a tube to keep stench off your boots.

Posh shops know this and wrap them well.
Each sock cosseted in tissue and branded silk,
inside a solid shiny box tied with a bright ribbon.

The quality of these socks is only perceived.
They won’t last as long or stop your new shoes
blistering your ankle; you’ve paid for packaging.

A person is a bag of bodily functions, attitudes
and ape imprinting with feet that stink up shoes.
A pretty ribbon is rarely worth the higher price.

Skyward Paws

tired dogs rest belly up –
paws cast smouldering shade after
walking on the sun

Chicken of Despair

Every dawn I romped with the chicken of despair.
Afterwards I would roast it and eat it hot.
The dinner dance often clucked ‘til dusk;
fat with chicken I was a stout but happy fellow.
Now, your diet pills, taken with cold water
(because a fat man must never dance outside)
make me hate even the smell of chickens.
I am not thinner.
Nor am I empty.

I’m a wicker man.
Virgin fear clucking in my belly.
Alight, we could roast together,
but I must let it peck and claw my insides;
eat my cornflakes and cheese sandwiches and smile
(because I know it will want a dance after its tea).
I say I like them and you say I’m better.
I am better.
Better at hiding chicken bones.

Keep Fit

manicured lawn –
seagulls dance on the heads
of juicy worms

Passing of a Nut

I am a nut upon the ground
where broken husks lie all around.
Squirrel teeth have cracked the shells
and chewed the life from all my pals.

My crisp and shiny skin stands proud,
I will not hide within this crowd.
Soon my rodent chum will eat his fill,
but greed will make him take me still.

I’ll ride away stuffed in his cheek,
he’ll jump here and there just like a freak.
Spit out into a hole and stamped right in,
I hope to lie here deep, and totally forgotten.

Chirstmas Gift

Christian ethic –
will you let me burn in hell
by taking your place?

Insider

Behind every democracy,
one that’s dodgy or great
there lies an evil dictator,
zipping his fly and
kissing your vote away
with soft salty lips.
As she adjusts his tie,
she whispers your fate
to the smiling front man.

Ice Cold

dark icy river –
suns warm touch wakes
tormented waters

Multiverse

From the bottom of the garden
with my head tipped right over,
it seems like the yard is vertical.

There’s this theory that for every
choice in life you didn’t take there
is another universe where you did.

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The Last Mile

wise feet know their path
through threadbare carpets –
last sip of hot tea