Manner

 

The manner of man a

manor dweller is

has manna aplenty too.

Manimal

 

Prime, primates, proud and preening people,

differ little from their kin.

Nice vocal chords, opposing thumbs,

and much less hairy skin.

 

Deep, deep inside though, little shows,

that chimp is far from chap.

Their genes show common ancestry

with little species gap.

 

In the beginning was the word,

of that there’s little doubt.

The human creature left the ape,

when first he spoke right out.

 

But was that language handed down,

in supernatural gift?

Or did voice form from mutant gene,

to bring the specie rift?

 

Just look upon the monkey group,

and see how they behave.

Fighting, fondling, fucking free.

The weakest, they enslave.

 

Apart from upright gait and song,

these beasts are us, with hair.

Should we class them now as brutes,

and deny them human care?

 

As slavers, we owned soulless blacks,

and herded them in ships.

Those people then weren’t ‘touched by god’,

but beasts we thrashed with whips.

 

Now! Tell me! Is a bonobo

no different from a cow?

Or should we count gorillas in.

the human family now?

 

Black and white, hirsute or smooth,

we’re creatures much the same.

No god distinguished ape from us,

we share much, but our name.

Malebolge

 

From the Malebolge,

reeking poets steeped

with the sullen and slothful

in their stygian swamp

simper

worthlessly.

 

The rancid dragon milk

will be late again Hihihihihi.

 

High on the heady

heroes of Antenora

Malpoet hugs

the ragged fur of Lucy Fur

to the centre

to the glory.

 

Transition of hell

consumption of heaven

dilution of cats eyes

transcendence of the eartha

kitten woman new

fashioned zillionaire.

 

Fu taka catacomb

monkeying with

capuchins.

Good gig

skulldiggery

Pin tang.

Lunch

 

Bathed in light by the sun room window,

We peck lightly at fork speared treats,

And gaze on the green lawn.

 

Scruffy starling babe, struts

A hungry hassle to its fervent mum.

In silent swoop the kestrel sets his aim.

Fierce beauty stares and talons fork the game.

Amnesty

 

The government has claimed

success in its most recent boot amnesty.

Boot mountains have been formed

in police station yards

throughout the country.

 

Original plans to issue the surrendered boots

to construction workers have been abandoned

due to a shortage of workers since the fourth credit crunch

and concern that the boots may be smuggled

out of the building sites and sold to gang members.

 

An alternative proposal

to ship the boots to shoeless

people in the third world

was stopped after the

Stop The War coalition

objected to weapons being exported.

 

Policing of the prohibition

on males between the ages of

thirteen and three quarters and

forty two being seen in public

with a clenched fist has resulted

in a claim by The Police Federation

for a trebling of the number

of police officers.

 

The requirement that young men

may only wear slippers in

public places has resulted in

a sharp increase in

spanking attacks in night clubs.

 

An appeal against the two kicks and your out

sentencing policy will go to

the European Court next week.

It is expected that the government will lose

and plans are being made for the life sentence

kickers to be released to waddle restraint.

 

They will be required to wear an

electronic butt plug that delivers a sharp

electric shock if the foot is raised above knee level.

Shit breaks of not more than fifteen minutes

will be permitted for up to three times a day.

 

A government spoke said:

“We are on target to achieve

the 64^th consecutive year

of falling crime levels.

Less than half the population

are now in prison

or subject to control orders.”

Luck

 

I was born with all my bits intact.

An ugly little brat.

My mother, with a look at me,

said. “What the luck is that?”

 

The kids at school were beastly.

They nicked my satchel once.

It contained my worm collection

so what the luck was that?

 

I forgot to think in lessons

and flunked all the exams.

I couldn’t go to uni.

Well! what the luck was that?

 

When it came to chatting women

I didn’t have a hope.

One picked me up and that’s OK.

Boy!. What the luck was that?

 

I began to make my fortune

in a big, high rolling game.

The ball was running with me.

Oh luck!

London Whale

 

The tears were for the whale, but the thoughts were for all those with mental health problems on the streets of London.

 

London Whale

 

I cried because the whale died,

Stranded, lost and helpless.

The open sea should be his home,

but he had come to London.

 

I cried because the whale died,

a mighty beast, and graceful.

In proper place with peace of mind,

he conquered all about him.

 

I cried because the whale died,

lost in the hands of helpers.

Thrashing out and twitching.

Communication lost to him.

 

I cried because the whale died,

out of place and voiceless.

He came because his mind was lost.

Compassion couldn’t find it.

Living on Egg

 

Blundering blearily

into the kitchen.

Boiling briefly,

my start to the day.

 

My thoughts wandered quick

away from the chicken

to places intriguing

and far away.

 

The world laid out

on the breakfast table

showed an island,

yellow and flat.

 

The urban yoke could

be dumped if I’m able,

for a solitary world

with just me and the cat.

 

I recall the people

of Eigg bought their island.

Egocentrically,

I am one of those folk.

 

But the mark on the map

was a splash, not a new land.

And sadly my island

was just a yolk.

 

Wiping my dream

with a wilting soldier,

I savoured the taste

of the final dreg.

 

New life must wait

until I am older.

Now off I go,

to work, on my egg.

Living

 

Breathing, fucking, eating,sleeping.

Working hard to earn a crust.

Sleeping, breathing, fucking , eating.

Breeding kids, as you must.

Eating, sleeping, breathing, fucking.

Holidaying ’til you bust.

Fucking, eating, sleeping, breathing.

Waiting to return to dust.

Lips

 

Puckering, pouting, pink and pursing,

opened wide and loudly cursing.

Shining, wet look, glossy smile

slicked by tongue with sexy guile.

Soft and gentle mumbling movements

tell of love in sweetest style.