ponderous poetry for the hoi polloi

An Artist named Paul

Oh my love!

Throw back another hey, eh, one more day,

And slap me in the face

Like a thousand guitar strings,

Splintering beneath each chord which

I club, clout, and clobber in


Of the reciprocal inhibition, you do


From head to toe…

Pure polychromatic perfection,

An Art Garfunkel exhibition if I ever did see…


Simon says:

“And here’s to you, Mrs. Apparition,

Jesus (would) love to know you more and more…



Salt & Pepper

Salt and pepper,

Lime juice


Margarita rim job,

Makes me squint with joy!


Someone call the elevator



Ding! Dong!

Gin and olives,

Queueing for a postage stamp in the

Posthypnotic Post Office,

Waiting for the solstice,

Sticker licker

Telegraphic ticker tape,

Takes the piss

Don’t make me wait!


You catch my drift?

(No, not really, sir)…

“Ooo, I like the cut of your jib!”

She says,

Clutching to the stick shift,

Shawl collar,

Short shrift,

Don’t short-change the


Lovers’ tiff,

How I could riff on you for


The Steam Room

I’m locked in the steam room,

Pending further notice, and

Gawping at myself like a gargoyle in the bathroom mirror,


Secret operative,

Still searching for a long-lost


Oh! Attach me to your

Mailing list,

(Or at the very least,

Come wipe the condensation from my


Lunar eclipse,

Don’t leave me in this steaming abyss…

Rock Around the Clock

My girl, she’s a

Prime suspect,

Second-sighted sunset,

Third-person shooter with a trigger-happy reflex…


Fourth dimension and

Five-finger discount,

Sixth times a charm when you’re skipping past the checkout…


She’s the Seven Hills of Rome around the

Eightfold path,

Nine times out of

Ten you’ll do a hot lap laugh…


And if elevenses isn’t enough to get your tongue wet,

Then at 12 you can always hit the reset!


With expectancy does my belly ache,

A not too pleasant knot eased only by daybreak,

For tomorrow’s child is today’s heartache,

But I’ll never stop loving you.


Smokey bacon, cumberland,

Porco due, oh far from bland,

M’eyes bigger than m’pork belly, belly bigger than my ‘ands,

You’re smokey bacon, girl, and I’m Sir Cumberland!


Canterbury bells

Keep your eyes peeled for Canterbury bells,

In purple whirlpools that’s where she dwells,

With kisses as light as feathered tails,

She’s all I could ever want.


So loyal is she to the springtime breeze,

That I’ll never part from her basal leaves,

Ensconced in sconces I wish to seize,

She’s all I could ever want.


With redolent breath she whispers to me,

“Six more days, my love, and we’ll be as close as can be”,

And I’ll wait for the chimes to end this misery,

For Canterbury bells are not just what I want,

But all I ever need.


(and more, and more, and more…)


Panna cotta, parson’s green,

In envious sleep come envious dreams,

For jealousy comes in gelatinous screams,

Cursedly stealing my mind.


Pink peppercorn, ham hock terrine,

Viscidity spoils these teeth so clean,

But savoury hearts deserve the sweetest of creams,

When bitterness returns back home.


Strawberry, blackberry, take your pick,

And despite too much jelly I’ll never be sick,

Of this tutti frutti arithmetic,

Which makes my heart soften with joy.


Ninnina mia.


Behind black sapphire blankets I dream of romance,

Around stricken matches Luna Moths do dance,

And I’ll pretend that this is all happenstance,

When I wantonly want only you.


Across amazonite ponds I’ll give in to chance,

Faced with beauty so blinding I’ll dare to glance,

And pretend that this is all happenstance,

When I wantonly want only you.


Beyond beryl is her countenance,

From great green gestures to hypnotic trance,

To pretend that this is all happenstance,

Is absurd, my love, and I hope you don’t mind,

That I wantonly

Want only


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