Una Altra
 

Himself Jan Ode
(Ligging and Lolling down the pub)

Suff’ring from winter’s strife,
To ward off all malaise:
A vest of string.
Aye, that’s the thing!

Not nylon, no; not silk,
Nought of that ilk;
But wool and such;
It’s hue don’t matter much.

So long as it be thick,
Aye, that’s the trick!
I’ll wear a pullover;
Suff’ring be over!

And, for an hour or so,
I’ll go the pub,
But here’s the rub:
I have no cash in hand.
No free beer in this land!

O, earth, give us the corn,
(Come rain, come sun)
From which is whisky born,
And I’ll have one
On borrowed cash.
It’s time to dash!
O, keeping warm’s such fun!

Note - the only anagram I can find for my name is "Phalli quip inn" - not sure what that means?

Sicilian Salt Gal
(Daphne goes daft on holiday)

Midlife, swinger, Dirty Dancer -
Up for some fun. I like a beer:
A free one, I’m a chancer!

On holiday,
And, sick of Greek food, I
Have come to Sicily.

A root beer doesn’t do it, though,
For me: yeah, in your dreams!
I’ll have a Grappa, Twinkletoes.

Much do I drink, but little eat;
I have a blurring in the eyes.
S***e! How I sweat in this heat.

Finally, you seize my arm
As vomit thickens in my throat,
And I have lost my fatal charm.

So I give in; I’m full of booze.
The cab fare is your only gift to me;
My gift to you, puke on your shoes.

Definitely the last one - promise. But this is addictive!

Hip? I‘ll Ink Rap!

Boom, chicka-boom, chicka-boom etc…

There’s a high light
A sky light
A problem (I’ve been ‘chewing’ it)
Why’s every body ‘doing it’?
(not doing it to me, I see)
Ain’t jealous
But I’m zealous
And I’m keen to get a piece of it
(Just think of the release of it!)
I’m a single – 45
and still alive
but here’s the flip (the going down) side
wanna ride
I wanna get myself a little E P

A wham, a bam, a ‘Thank you ma’am’
Take pills or wear a diaphragm

There’s blue light
See-through light
There’s nothing that it’s showing me
I talk about it endlessly
To take you off the scent
Of what I meant
And what it means to me
That she ain't effing effing me
But him instead
Can't tell you how it's messing with my head
‘Cos I am older
(Not bolder
Than when I was a little kid)
I don’t regret the things I did
But what I didn’t do
Don’t you?

A wham, a bam, a ‘Thank you ma’am’
Take pills or wear a diaphragm

Well! You go off for a few days' wurzel-picking and what do you find when you get back? A thread that's running away with itself. Much good stuff here.


THROW WITH JOHN

No, no, you’re not supposed to THROW!
This is cricket, don't you know?
Straight elbow: bowl, don't chuck it.
You must be American! One more go:
No, bowl don't PITCH it. No no NO,
keep that elbow straight. Oh, FUCK it!


:-D

ED THE GUSH

Crocodile

Your guide is almost glad he surfaced; see
How his scales glisten in the sunlight; how his skin
Dazzles the company like a golden rain, -
You marvel where he gets his imagery from. . . .

But this same instant, here, far up the Nile,
The little carcass spreads its claws and grins.

'Stop, stop, oh for God's sake, stop!' you shriek
As the fish approach, but he grins on and on
Mercilessly till you think his jaws must crack . . .

And the carcass's tail shines bright, swilled
In the flow of the river and a shoal of fish
Swims like innocents into its throat.

You plead, limp, dangling from the guard-rail, till
With a sudden fish-spilling burp, he stops; he dives
Grinning, soon after. You slump back down in the boat
Cold as a grief, your heart scarcely moving. . . .

Deep under the steamer's deepest plate
This grinning croc' is bursting with small fish.

Lawn, With Tam

He spent his days among the common man--
A common man himself, as he would write
In verses rarely humble or contrite,
And sorely lacking interest or élan;
And yet, it was not long ere fame began
To rear its hoary head for him, despite
The contrast of achievement and the plight
Of those he tried to not be greater than.

Would it have hurt so much for you to rhyme
Just once, at least, to show us that you could
Exemplify the standards of your art?
For one as you who had his place in time
Assured, for reasons seldom understood,
Could you not see your ego had no heart?

Withdrawn.

Have to say, though, Samuel Taylor Coleridge produced some rich pickings. Amongst which some of my favourites were:

Allegoric: Adultery (some)
Allegoric: Estuary Model (in the style of Martin Newell's "Beowulf Returns to the Estuary perhaps?)
Surly Maori Decolletage (one for Janet K maybe?)
Celestial Urology Dream
Alleluia: Modest Grocery (I hate shopping too)
Illegal Creature Sodomy
Adultery: Allergic Moose

Withdrawn.

JOG-HANDED

Dylan T. tremens is
Most inconvenient
When you are bringing a
Tray to your guests:
Fight as you may against
Disequilibrium,
Wine heads for trouser-flies,
Dip bedecks breasts.

Co-authored with the late, great Dennis Hammes:

(picture the poet holding a driver & brassie in hand)


Talking with Woods on a Frosty Evening

Whose woods are these? I think I know.
He plays at Rolling Valley, though.
He'll never see me swinging here
where scores decline and stories grow.

My caddy thinks it's downright queer:
we play without the crowds that cheer
and then correct each dumb mistake
before we drink another beer.

He gives the pin a little shake,
But I will take the time I take.
The bunker's wide, the green is steep;
the dogleg runs along the lake.

The water's lovely, dark and deep
but I have balls I care to keep
and holes to go before I weep,
and holes to go before I weep.

-o-