Poetry Triangle

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• The Spade And The Rake
• Escaping From The Fig
• Holding You Tightly
• Moving Sheets Of Ectoplasm
• Never On Time
• The Potato Stool
• Pumpkin
• Lisa
• Garden Atrocities
• Goddess Of The Sticky Streets
• The Straightest Curve
• Strange Voices In Golborne

The Spade And The Rake

He lived in a dusty room,
She was a dusty wench;
He was a human tongue,
She was a plastic bench.
They met last night in a boiling flame,
A pot, a cup before them:
A melting hand was burned away,
I wanted to ignore them.
But now I think of days gone by
And spiders on the throne
And how I long to be a sprout
And wish myself back home -
I met him in a seashell,
A home that he had made,
He looked just like a feather
But he was just a spade;
I met her on a feeling,
A whisper on a lake,
She acted like a cupboard
But called herself a rake.

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Escaping From The Fig

A rooting leg was given time
To tell a tale of whisky lime
And from the top of Bottle Hill
The carrot swooped to make a kill.
The field was empty, far and wide
But still they waited for the tide,
A drink of milk came floating down
And landed on the edge of town;
"This day," he said, "shall never end
For I don't have a single friend"
And as he said his final word,
He was murdered by a bird.
Towards the end of night-time shoes
The lettuce came and lit the fuse;
The time had come to make a tray
And fry the fat from yesterday:
An ugly sound was sent around,
I lost the tears that I had found,
I fell in love with graveyard noise
And lettered all my broken toys.
You see, I'm wrong,
You abstract wig,
I'm only chasing
A happy fig.
The loser lost his happiness,
The winner won his pride
But when he looked inside his mind
He found a pip inside.
Closing up the pretty fence,
I know it when I see it,
Music falls across the hut,
I thought I never had it.
The butcher bit into his coat and fed it to his pig,
He laughed out loud for city air and swapped it for a fig.

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Holding You Tightly

A cotton-topped banana
Was waiting in the wings,
Burning rotten apple juice
And sucking female rings;
A wand was measured full of time
As drops began to strain,
I strode along the orange ball
And solidified my brain.

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Moving Sheets Of Ectoplasm

I saw her on a moonlit beach
With frogs around her ankles,
Her neck was torn, her lips were slashed
And snails moved in her hair.
A tramp had tied her hands together -
He must have licked her eyes,
Her back was twisted like a desk,
So I sat on a chair.

Moving sheets of spiky ink-wells
Blowing through the moon,
Sending spears of broken movements
Out beyond the sandstorm;
Flicking through those monstrous noises,
Peaceful like the love,
He caught her with a double blow,
Moving sheets of ectoplasm.

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Never On Time

It's half past six
And all is neat,
I scarred her face
And mashed her feet.
I tied her up
And burned the rope,
I washed her neck
With razor soap.
Thinking back with voice of rhyme,
It must have been the perfect crime
But there and then
And on the spot
I could not tell the time.

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The Potato Stool

He thought he was a ghastly root,
A clock beneath the earth,
He whistled every thirteen days
And lied about his birth.
He could have been a watch strap
But eggs were singing songs
And on a stool beside his leg
He found a dozen tongues.
My whisker was a little truck
The day before he died,
I should have let him out before
But parsley made him wide;
He knew a trick involving peas,
He soon became a sponge cake,
The time was written on his throat
And what a sound it used to make!
The crowd is full of apples,
I wish I were away
For now that I have been a speck
The pans have come to stay.

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Pumpkin

A little bit of pumpkin and a shot of methane cake,
A town and country plumber with a foreign toe-nail snake,
A farrier with minty teeth and grass upon his brow,
A talkative young prima donna practicing her bow;
And when I talk, I really burn
And follow every line,
I shout aloud from down below
And wander back through time -
Melting like a universe, a cat without a tail,
A bucketful of silver glass and reddish-bluish ale;
A monster from a kingdom,
A golden parakeet,
A mob of love through hail and snow
And fog and wind and sleet:
So finally and all in all,
From end to end I squirm,
Just like a tin of coupon breath,
All dressed up like a worm.
Before you ever fault your neck,
A pumpkin for a prize;
A lot of black and russet hate
With marrow pea-green size.

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Lisa

"Sod off, you little teaching thing,"
She said without a word
And looked beyond my suntanned face,
Another sound was heard.
Last night she told me she was sick
But I was even sicker,
She never even held my hand
And so I had to kick her;
I suppose I didn't love her
But that's my middle name
And if I see this girl again
I bet she'll smell the same.

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Garden Atrocities

City of wax, dreams of passion,
Crimes of gold and healthy grass.
"Where was I when you were labelled?"
"In the chapel making glass."
From bluest skies and naughty music
Children dance and break the law,
Sights of human cloudless fetters:
Victims of the tiger's claw.
Cupboards sing with open sadness,
Tools of pleasure in the sun -
Who will wipe away the feelings
When the piper's work is done?
Give me teeth and I will shock you,
Give me time and I will ask,
Give me kettles full of water,
Give me brandy in a flask.
Sharks believe and rabbits play,
Can you send the trees away?

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Goddess Of The Sticky Streets

She caught my eye - a burning witch
While I threw apples in the ditch;
She was a hole,
A sticky mole
But she was pretty rich.

She looked at people through her throat
And wrapped her apples in her coat;
She made me jump,
A mighty lump
And she could ride a boat.

She lived on flies and ants and bats
And cooked the apples with the rats;
She heard a foot,
A happy cut
And she wore funny hats.

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The Straightest Curve

The straightest curve was my friend's big lid,
She threw the biscuits down the grid;
The taps were turned and she felt a pain,
The creepy mouse had left the drain.
A moment later people freeze,
The mucus leaf, the windy breeze,
A tarmac slap has played the tooth
Below the happy loveless truth:
A tiny dot, my mushroom friend - a liver on the sod,
Behind your neck a silver trend - a dangling sausage cod.
The world is full of mental eggs
And nooses in the wind,
I tell you boys the tales a lot
But now you see I've grinned;
A horse of weather prayed a stool,
"Bloody hell! I'm drowning,"
King Kong has fallen to his knees,
I think he'll miss the crowning.

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Strange Voices In Golborne

Whisky on his breath,
Biscuits on his head,
I could have been a cherry in a baseball hat.
Shooting every eyeball,
Failing to disguise,
I wanted all the animals but most of all - the rat.

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