30 September 2017


Because funerals are terrible.

Bury me in my back garden,
Bum up or bum down, I don't care.
Don't fret for my soul,
Simply dig me a hole,
Roughly one-and-a-half metres square.

Bury me in my back garden,
No casket, no coffin, no frills.
For next to no cost
I will slowly compost
Circumventing funereal bills.

Bury me in my back garden,
As if I was one of your pets.
I take up more room
Than a terrier's tomb
But I'll save you a trip to the vet's.

Bury me in my back garden,
no need for a vicar or priest.
Just make sure I'm dead,
Chuck some dirt on my head,
And then drink to the newly deceased.

21 April 2017

Somethin' Stupid

(with apologies to C. Carson Parks)
Because dating is hard.

I looked at your profile
And I swiped right
Because your smile
Was captivating to me.

And when we went
Someplace to meet
You ordered
Something sweet
And then you
Shared it with me.

Then afterwards
I stopped and stared
And secretly prepared
A future for us.

But then you went
And spoiled it all
By saying you could never date
a Taurus.


You can see it in my eyes
You're a reprise
Of other guys
I've tried to date before.

And though you think there's still a spark
Your last remark
Means I can't see you


I saw you in a bar
And in that moment,
From afar
I felt less sad and alone.

You wandered over
for a chat
And shortly
After that
I had your name in my phone.

For days on end
We'd type and send
A hundred silly messages
Between us.

But then you went
And spoiled it all
By sending me a photo
Of your penis.


You can see it in my eyes
You're a reprise
Of other guys
I've tried to date before.

And though you think you're quite risqué
That doesn't make me want to stay
Around for more.


I walked past where
You sit each day
Because it’s on the way
Between my desk and the lifts.

And every smile,
Each soft hello
I kept next to my heart as though
You gave them as gifts.

One afternoon
At Friday beers
Your voice bewitched my ears
In conversation.

And then you went
And spoiled it all
By telling me you voted
For One Nation.

28 March 2017

What Trump Likes

Because making deals is terrific. Believe me. The best.

I don't often link Donald Trump and poetry together in the same thought. But, like almost everything else abhorrent to intellect, Trump himself tweeted about it.

Sure, the tweet's a couple of years old, but if age was any hindrance to being noticed, Trump wouldn't be president in the first place. 

Now, far be it from me to claim that my poetry skills even come close to The Don's deal-making wizardry. But if he did turn his tiny hands to doggerel instead of dog-whistling, it might look a little something like this:

I’m Trump and I like bigly deals.
I like the way the winning feels.
The other thing I like, for reals,
Is this tremendous poem. 

I don’t like facts or Meals on Wheels
Or failed Obamacare repeals
Or when the FBI reveals
What I refuse to show ‘em. 

I like long, incoherent spiels
And watching Fox to get my feels
And trips to Florida for meals
And touching random chicks. 

Some people paint, some folks make meals,
Some sing or bang on glockenspiels,
But money-getting spins my wheels;
That’s how I get my kicks. 

11 August 2016

On the care and comfort of exotic pets

Just because.

Please don’t keep your axolotl in an empty shampoo bottle
When a proper coffee pot’ll do the trick.

Don’t feed raisins or sultanas to exsanguinous iguanas;
Offer only ripe bananas when they’re sick.

If you must adopt a locust, it’s important you stay focused -
Your indifference might provoke a stream of swears.

Water isn’t good for spiders, they prefer a range of ciders
Served with tiny pulled-pork sliders, cut in squares.

If you take a young impala to a symphony or gala,
Be advised: the sound of Mahler makes them squeal.

If you haven’t any pillow for your banded armadillo,
Then a head-sized sheet of filo is ideal.

If you can’t stop your cicada stealing biscuits from your larder,
Try to make its access harder with a maze.

Never give your tuatara make-up, shoes or a tiara,
You’ll be cleaning up mascara smears for days. 

27 June 2016


Because hindsight, at today's exchange rate, is still 20/20

Whoops! I thought that we was voting summink different innit;
I didn’t know we’d really take the EU and, like, bin it.
For sure I thought the ‘Leave’ vote would add up to less than half;
I only voted ‘Leave’ ‘cause my mates dared me for a laugh.
That Nigel bloke said immigrants was stealin’ British jobs;
I didn’t know that Nigel is the king of racist nobs.
He said we’d save some money that could save the NHS;
There’s more to this than what he might’ve said (or not) I guess;
‘Cause now the Pound is down and our financial future’s drab;
But most importantly: CAN I STILL GET A CHEAP KEBAB?

06 June 2016

When the campaign is Donne

Because halfway through an election campaign is as good a time as any to get metaphysical. 

When next the visage of the moon
Turns coyly from the Earth to wane
In Southern lands, a mournful tune
Plays soft to endeth this campaign

Two foes, hast did declare their troth
As means to quench a powr’ful thirst
One side intendeth jobs and growth
The other, putting people first.

What trigger’d such a grand event?
A solemn vow to disagree
‘Til twice-dissolved, our parliament
Restored not the ABCC

For fortnights twain a battle fought
Continued twenty-eight days more
We sit upon the rowboat’s thwart
With battens placed for what’s in store.

What promises are made thus far?
What quarter shall our champions give
To childcare, tax, the NBN
And gearing in the negative?

As rivals gloat and bluff and boast
It matters not what happens hence
The policies that matter most
Seem nothing much of consequence

Of marriage just, nor refugees
Spake neither glori’ed bureaucrat;
More time and swathes of journalese
Apportioned to a blessed rat.

30 December 2015

Two Thousand and Fifteen

Because 'tis the season to write lists of things.

In December I remember
Everything that’s been;
Listed tersely and diversely,
Here’s my two-zero-fifteen: