exppppppp.er (forget what you see it’s not important.)

From the badgering treetops To the lowly park bench Four youths Smoking Trees hang like butterfilies from Fillies a hatchery’s rooftop where the butterfly hatcher has poowerful values and lots of children, and poo. Listen to what I’m saying to you Make sense of it, make sense of this, I beg you Because I Can’t.…

Daily Prompt: Folly

rolly cigarettes on a park bench you tell me that we shouldn’t be smoking smoking is bad for the heart   folding picnic chairs and spoiled sandwiches you tell me that we shouldn’t be out when the clouds are grey grey cloud means rain   dirty plates and greasy pound notes you tell me that…

autumn: yellow flowers, green carlsberg

Alders are very suited to the site they like the wet ground.   Rattling train song. Echoes of a pneumatic drill, machine-gun fire.   Monetize the wild, the felled trees, butterfly souls, we are greedy, we eat too much.   Lech, the ruins of a firework fire.   A single peg on a scrubs arm,…

frog with orange hair

Frog with orange hair sat in the tub by the window. Stop watching me. You will only make me blush.   Frog with orange hair do not make me blush. I become gas clouds behind sun.   Frog with orange hair watch me turn around. I can’t face you. I will only make you blush.

found poetry

Now he’s developing his own personality, you know. It’s sort of there. It’s not really a blokey thing. She carried him around for nine months, you know.   What’s the difference? My lips get chapped in the winter. I have Vaseline in the car. This is better, my lips get so chapped. Yeah, but I…

no one has turned on the jukebox

  To the girl on the train, we are not thinking about fucking you. We aren’t superstars. Instead, to fall in love, buy better shoes.   Following the drunks from pub to pub. Receding hair leaning on the bar. No one has turned on the jukebox. Who’s mum fucking died in here?   Sniff. He goes to…