the greek church

Upon a mountain bound touring coach trip,

we bantered about with our shit British wit.

arriving atop the Grecian hills

we wiped our brows as the bus unfilled.

on a wild boar we did feast-

indeed a rare treat of meat!

Twas cooked by a dainty wild boar man,

Though old and frail, still gracious and grand.

After the food and wine on which we did dine

i wondered along, not expecting such a rare find!

in the wilderness of the forest at the end of a path

glory did stand! A church! How my heart did laugh!

the local hands had hewn with brightly illuminated precision

a building whose effect was the work of magicians.

in awe I saw stained glass catholic emblems

and old Greek Gods of ancient resemblance,

pews felled from the trees not far from my heart.

a place of worship, divinely inspired pure art!

I stood in the temple in the in the wood, humbled

when BANG! CRASH! more Brits in did stumble,

swearing, smoking, joking and farting .

I did directly declare my disgusted departing.

back aboard the bus

I ignored the others fuss

pondering only on what they couldn’t touch.

fanciful racism

You clock someone special

Who’d flocked to a techno festival.

You don’t talk, you just stare,

Captivated by her glowing flare.

Years pass, but you remember-

That aura of glowing ember.

You meet with her friends,

You sleep with some in the end!

Then up she pops, at a rave,

You can’t seem to stop the way you behave.

You find yourself insulting her-

Your unkindness resulting in a collective blur.

You think its funny, racial abuse,

But socially it’s akin to a strangling noose.

She takes it on the chin-

A girl of that caliber will always win. . .

Educated and classy,

Motivated and sassy!

Unfazed by juvenile mocking,

Carrying on in life, still rocking.

She returns the banter to your face,

You like the attention - any place!

She goes away,

On that sunny day,

 Hope next time I meet her

I somehow manage to greet her

In a more adult manner. . .

Instead of behaving like a fuckin’ spanner.

cuppa tea

I asked you out for a cuppa tea

To talk about similarities between you and me

I held no anterior motive, no dark intent

I simply wanted to communicate about energies spent

I’m sorry you might have got the wrong end of the stick

When I’m drunk I can behave like some what of a dick

It became a running joke

Amongst the towns folk

“cuppa tea cuppa tea” then they flea despite my plea

I understand and hold no ill feeling

I’m just glad you now find that cuppa tea more appealing.

futile fights with junkie jokes

I’m sorry I worry about how we are,

It’s bad and sad away I feel so far.

I ghast at the past unable to raise the bar,

Although love is above all else and scars.

I’m tarred and marked whilst making my memoir,

I relive unable to forgive until I talk Blah Blah,

Though that is deferred and unheard and off the radar-

Square one is no fun after ten years of war.

Unfair and outdone and no one to share ‘cept Tamar,

Her understanding the dirty landing and the bizarre.

Their was no hesitation for you taking station as Tsar,

Discarding an’ unregarding me and my sister,

To the abuse and public use of the opiate caviar.

With mother she no other permitting the pit too far.

Lost and at big cost did it come  -  Ra Ra,

You’d have owned it if you’d known it – Ta Ta.

Soon noon will dawn and we will be superstars.

HA HA.

fruity

‘Do you want some fruit?’ he asked,

I passed; unaware he actually meant ‘would you care to partake

And indulge in some strawberries and cream. . ?’

Now I see what you mean I am jealous to the seems

I will as you request and wish

Eat up this clichéd dish.

The Ship Out

People told me you were cool, But I didn’t know you at all.

Drinking Doom in the tar’d barred dark barmat room,

I asked you out on a date - fashionably at far to fast a rate.

Blessed with a yes and relieved of stress I left the rest for later.

With numbers exchanged excuses and exits were made,

Days past, may av it be at last stayed as me in the glass.

To be drinker and server in the gabble and the gossip

And have an agenda of acknowledgement acquired on advice

Hopefully forgives floored full forward friendliness.

You reasoned me an unseasoned tree.

Texting no you fled un’ flea.

Cant blame ee’ luv,

Seems the same every time guv.  

jerk alert

Tamar is talking to me. I listen as it is some quite deep stuff. I’m thinking about what she says, trying to work solutions into the conversation. Were both drinking wine and Nelly is asleep on the sofa next to Tay. I’m looking around the disordered room and it reminds me of last night’s mild carnage. I’ve been awake to long and now I am drunk. I’m trying to focus on what Tay says, so hard. He voice trails off into a monotonous drone and my eyelids at last give into the effects of gravity. . . .

~I’m on a beach at dusk, I talk to a dwarf and he. . .~

Shlugb!!!

I hear a gush and I am wet, I jerk alert to the sound of laughter. My empty wine glass in my hand at my soaking side leads me to the obvious conclusion. “Fucksake” I say. Tamar is telling me off for not listening and I have to say after having indulged in an Einstein inspired power nap I am more awake now than I have been for hours.

Shakespearian Sonnet in the cornish dialect

Av word sec son? Got tell ee this,

See don’t know ow to say it nice-

So ah’ll say it real, at the risk

Of tears. But hear it at that price:

I elp ee but ee dont elp me,

When ee ask me ah’ll lend an and

But when i ask ee fled an flea!

Tis cat an mouse an sit an stand

Pick ee up an ee put me down,

Give ee the keys an ee shut doors!

Drive me mad, a bad lad full frown’d

Get off ee ass an stop the boar,

Belt up an fix flaws, throw way toys-

Tis time to be a man my boy!

Punked Out!

Iggy Pop's premoting iffy car insurance,
Jonny Rotten's selling dirty dairy,
Kurt Cobain's said to stack shelves in Tescos. . .
A sell out sentence worth less than death!

Tentbound, waiting for the rain to stop, the sandsifter to open and the pards to arrive!

wet debts dreamt to the dry field
slept is left for later as the humidity exempts snuggled sub-dudes long overdew to renew slumbered phews.
beans bursting my seems like a good idea at the time to unwind or at least try to find away to stay interested never bested by the low atmosphere.
my lack of peers pressured by the weathers relentless endeavers.
outside one magpie in the pampass grass, then two then one again then two then one then two
sorrow joy sorrow joy sorrow joy, borrowed ploys never to annoy untill i see a car arrive full of my boys!
and on i go. . . idealio! x

upcoming local literary revolution

hi guys i am a Cornish lad who is in the process of starting up his own publishing company, Bent Detective Books. watch this space for future news.