Nuisance Rain

Does your weather forecaster predict nuisance rain for you?

Have no fear,
Just pour some of this shampoo and conditioner,
Over your dull, lifeless clouds,
And your nuisance rain,
Will have a new healthy bounce and shine.


Love Or Happiness?

Some wish for love,
Others wish for happiness,
A few wish for both.

Love and Happiness?
At the same time?
Now that's just being greedy.

Eighteenth Draft

Well,
This really is it then,
At last - done.
This is The One.

Eighteen,
Eighteen drafts!
Eighteen?
Yes, eighteen,
Eighteen.

You wouldn't think it would you?


Ner-Ner (Part One)

"Jeremy Clarkson - God, he's the wittiest man alive,"
Stated the delightful dad-rock beer-gut,
He went on,
"He tells it how it is,
Never holds back,
Really socks it to those namby-pamby,
Politically correct, numpty Bambi shaggers -

Nanny state do-gooders,

Them environmentalists - bastards,
Mentalists more like, eh,
Yeah," (he agreed with himself),
"He really let's them have it in the neck,
And he's just so hilarious,
So funny as well,
Isn't he?
Isn't he?!"

I nodded.

Ner-Ner (Part 2)

Later,
To atone,
And for some light-relief,
I poured the entire contents,
Of a Tabasco Sauce bottle -
(That new extra-hot one),
Onto my little fellow -
(If you know what I mean).

I can't say that this,
Unorthodox method,
Of pain-relief worked,
But I suppose -
Given the circumstances,
It was worth a try.

Ner-Ner Ner-Ner,
Went the racing ambulance,
"Oh my head -
Both of them",
Went I.

Ner-Ner Ner-Ner

Inter-Faith

God. God.
God? God?
God, like this: God. God. I said God..
..Yes. And I say God. As in The God, pronounced "God". And I too..

God. God.
Ah, I know how difficult this is for you. Oh dear.
We must understand each other. Reach across this dangerous divide.
Yes. Yes.
So, listen: God. God?
Almost. Almost. Almost?
Almost, but not,
.... God God?
Again! God.. You're not listening I said God. Why are you getting angry?
Okay, love is all that we have here,
Let's remember that.

Okay. Again.
God. Oh, you mean, God, not..God? But..
In a word. In a word, hmm. Your opinion.
Let's try this again, agreed? Alright. Agreed.
Two, three, four..God. God.
Look, I was afraid this would happen. You're just afraid.
You're so.. I'm so..what..?
No. I'm sorry. Can we stop this dialogue now. Dialogue!
We seem..
This is why there are wars.. Yes! And isn't that a shame?
Yes, so why wont you.. Why wont I.. what?

Marshmallows

These marshmallows have not been scanned,
They may hold small atomic devices inside,
You look alright to me though,
And seeing as it's Christmastime,
I'll allow you through,
Next time, mind..

Text Message For The January Sales

I want to send this text message to you now,
But I'm waiting for the January sales,
Hopefully then the postage stamps will be cheaper.

I'll post my text message to you first class,
My phone will be in a white padded envelope,
With my name and address on the back of my phone,
So you know where to return your reply.

Massive Apology Live And Direct Outside The Big Gates Of A Really Big House

First,
Above first,
I must apologise to God,
Obviously,
That goes without saying.

And,
My fans,

But,
Firstly, (after God, obviously) my wife -
Especially my beautiful wife.
For,
To her,
My wildest and deepest sorrow goes,
And,
Then,
After God and my wife,
I must prostrate myself earnestly before,
Everyone else who knows me,
Who may now feel truly betrayed and disappointed,
At my appalling and unconscionable behaviour,
Especially -as I said - my beautiful wife.
Why does she put up with this?
She's an Angel,
And I will always stand by her,
Please don't judge her,
For she is my wife..

And after God, and then my astonishing wife,
And then those that know me,
I would also like to gastronomicallyapologise,
In a one word, not two, kind of way,
To,
Everyone else who doesn't know me,
And, ironically,
Now that they know,
That they don't want to know me,
Because of all the lurid headlines,
Written about my shameful life,
This past week,
I hope that they will continue,
To not want to know me,
But for all the right reasons,
And for none of the wrong ones,
If you see what I mean..

May I also express to all of you here today,
My colossal remorse,
At all my intimate infractions,
My romantic transgressions,
Moist, pulsating,
And evil,
As they were,
On reflection,
I realise now,
And - more to the point - you should realise too,
Were nothing more than moments of madness,
All sixteen of them - all moments of madness.
That you must all forget about.
Because?
Because,
No one and nothing compares to the fragrant beauty of my wife,
How could they:
The supermodels, lap dancers and waitresses,
How could they compare,
To my beautiful wife of forest fern fragrances?
My wife - not yours - who is so very beautiful,
And fragrant,
And astonishing,
And timeless,
Like a clock with no hands,
Made in Stonehenge:
Classical and insurmountable.

So what was I thinking:
The supermodels, the lap dancers, the waitresses?
No idea.

My sordid drug habits over this past week,
Have also - quite rightly in my opinion - been exposed,
For the pure, decadent and shameful filth it is -
In particular,
My love of hallucinogenics.
And while it's true,
The trips I had on them,
Were amazing,
And the visions I experienced there,
Opened up my mind,
To new, exciting and magical spheres of unicorn-riding reality,
And gifted me the inspiration,
For what I consider to be my greatest creations -
To be released early next year -
Well, that doesn't make it right.
What was I thinking?
Again,
I've no idea,
No idea..

I would also like to apologise for the tax evasion,

And that fraud thing too..

So,
To sum up,
I think it would be fair to say,
That I've behaved quite badly,
This week,
But I promise you all,
That I plan to make a fresh start,
And I promise,
Sincerely promise,
That I will really behave myself next week,
And be really good.

Honest.

But, I can't lie:
I'm not sure how I'll do,
The week after that,
But I'll do my best..

Ironic Bumblebee

How ironic:
A bumblebee,
Has fallen onto my toast!

Maybe tomorrow,
A cow will trip over my teapot!

I wonder,
Will the MPs' gravy train,
Ever shed its load,
By the parliamentary chip shop?

Welcome To The Transcendental Elephant

Welcome to The Transcendental Elephant,
So if I can just read your order back to you all,
Clockwise round the table :

Mushroom masala with saffron rice,
Cucumber raita,
Two lentil samosas with mint and coriander dip, yeah?

And you'd like:
Moong daal,
With the aubergine thing, number twenty-seven,
That's nice that - had some earlier,
And two naan.
Okay, thanks.

And you'd like:
Chips, peas, very English jam roly-poly,
And two poppodums? Is that right?
Uh yes,
The poppodums are good today sir,
Very fresh: straight from the fields,
..And?
And a mineral water.
No problem sir.

And madam?
You'd like to have the transcendental cosmic consciousness platter,
That's number fifty? Yeah,
Um..with a complete obliteration of self,
With Hindu yogic flying past life Ayurvedic regression therapy?
Anything else?
A pistachio kulfi,
And..
Twelve lagers.
No problem..
Sorry?
You think you may have been a yeti,
In your previous life?
Oh well done madam.
May I ask,
Would you like your lagers before or after you have obliterated your selfish ego?
What do I recommend?
To be honest,
I think,
If you think,
You may have been a yeti in your previous life,
You're half way there already,
But I have witnessed some of our more spiritual customers,
After they've had a few lagers,
Connect with the universe,
Sometimes very successfully.
So it's up to you really.

Okay then.

Well thank you all for your order,
It should be with you in no more than ten or so minutes,
So until then,
Please help yourselves to the complimentary Bombay mix,
And my psychic transference of good karma energy to you all,

And thank you again for visiting The Transcendental Elephant.

Any Minute Now

Any minute now,
She cannot help but fall in love with me again,
And,
I will have to gently turn her away.
Any minute now.

Any minute now,
She will text me,
"We really need to talk",
And for a fair while I will not reply.
Any minute now.

Any minute now,
She will confess her new relationship isn't rating ,
Then ask do I have another girlfriend.
Any minute now.

Honestly.

I know women.

Any minute now..

Pretty Nascent

Over there,
Many people are killed,
Being killed,
By surgical strikes.

I suppose that,
In a True Democracy,
The right to strike,
Is an absolute right,
And,
A given,
I suppose,
In a True Democracy.

But over there?
There, the democracies,
Are pretty nascent,
Aren't they?

So I do hope,
These surgeons,
Call their strikes off soon.
Doesn't it contradict their Hippocratic Oath,
Or something?

Maybe our surgical strikers,
Over there,
Have gone a bit,
I dunno,
..Militant?

[redacted poem]

For reasons of national security,
This poem,
Has been redacted.

Please move on,
There's nothing to see here.

Please move on.


NOTICE FROM HM GOVERNMENT INFORMATION SERVICES
Protecting you from your need to know
Saving us from ourselves l

Ldstdh Ooaaee

I've had to eat my own words,
I stuffed them in some humble pie.
Quite nice actually.

So-called own-grown words,
Taste much fuller-bodied,
Juicier,
And flow sweeter off the tongue,
Than words sold on supermarket shelves;
Although I've been told
the new M&S range of organic Tuscan words is,
Truly,
Bellissimo!

Most supermarket words sold - even free-range,
Contain preservatives,
And E numbers,
So every time you consume a word,
Such as,
"Mermaid",
You have to consume its E number,
Such as,
E218.
Munch munch "mermiad", munch munch "E218",
See what I mean?
Hope that makes sense.

Eating other people's words,
Can be more than a little disconcerting too,
Don't you think?
Always leaves me with a feeling of,
Dislocation,
And bewilderment,
Eating other people's words.

I know it's always lovely,
On romantic occasions,
To devour words succulent,
Plucked like harpoons from our surrogate lips.

And I have to share with you,
This one amazing time,
When I ate the words chanted,
From a Siberian shaman trance,
Incredible!
Intensely smokey and nutty they were,
With a hint of pine.
Had some quite amazing dreams afterwards too!
I'll tell you about them sometime,
Only if you're interested though!
I can imagine listening to someone else
wax lyrical about their shamanic-word-dreams,
Is, well, probably an acquired taste.
But if you ever have the chance,
To inebriate yourself on Siberian shamanic trance words,
Please try,
And I promise,
You wont regret it.
Just make sure you don't drive afterwards!

When I ate my own words,
Marinated in pieces of my own humble pie,
I saved a piece for you,
And in case you are curious of the words,
I prepared earlier for my filling,
Here they are:
Glitzlivibro,
Twimmillee,
Llibamliwah,
Uv wxyz (pronounce uv wicksis),
Pambymint,
Defanee,
Kooroiaa,
Duparyas patimi.

Bet you can't buy those in the supermarket!

P.
.S
:
If any Siberian shaman are reading this,
And recognise any of these words as your own,
Please accept my apologies.
And a humble ldstdh ooaaee to you!

Orchids

First,
I'm going for an orchid transfusion,
Then, perhaps a soul-trepanation later this afternoon;
Not visited my soul-trepanner for two years now,
Probably why then,
My seepings are now squirting,
Deep-blue brain dew!

The orchid transfusion is my top priority,
It's a "must have" for all the tender men these days,
And anyway,
Why shouldn't we replace our blood with liquidised orchids,
So our hearts pump plasma of jade?

Pasteurised,
Liquidised,
Orchids.
No need eau de toilette anymore,
As orchidised-man smells naturally,
Of this strangely aphrodisiac flower,
Women so adore.
(Even more than daffodils I'm told.)

So I'll venture out to chop some wood,
Beneath London's belting Malteser-melting heat,
Thus,
When a delectable chick wanders innocently by,
She may sniff my furrowed,
And flowery,
(Yet extraordinarily manly),
Pheromones,
And Swoon her sighs.

Or..
She may intuit,
I'm perhaps,
A tad,
A-bark,
Earnestly chopping down fences,
Of a municipal park,

And triangulate,
A floating,
Away..

The Sacred Beauty Of Love And The Sacred Love Of Beauty Explained

.

That Special Something

It's not quite there yet,
Not quite there.
Don't get me wrong,
It's nearly there,
Almost nearly,
I don't know,
I'm just not sure,
There's still that indefinable,
That special something,
That's still missing.
An imperceptible,
An imperceptible something,
Like when I see a duck on a pond,
I think,
Oh look a duck on a pond,
Isn't that's nice, but,
Then I can't help but ask:
But where are the other ducks,
To keep this one duck company?
Why are there no other ducks in the pond?
It's just not right - the duck,
All alone like that,
Especially on a Friday,
Or a Saturday night,
Can you imagine?
Can't be much fun for a solitary duck,
Gliding sadly,
And all so alone,
Through the too quiet,
Too still water,
Circling, gliding, alone,
Beneath the weekend moonlight.
Know what I mean?

Magic Novel

This novel,
Is just so enjoyable,
I can't read it anymore,
Because then I will finish it,
So it will end,
And I will never feel the pleasure,
Of reading it for the first time again.
So I'll carry always this magic novel with me,
Wherever I may go,
I only like to finish the bad ones quickly,
With great ones that's never so.

Telethon Teletubbies

T.V-teletubby-telethon-celebrities:
"We're about saving lives
- so please give",
But watch,
And after a while,
You may lose the will to live.

Closer To Life

Now,
If I hear,
Just one more time,
Yet another noxious celebrity,
Another agony aunt/uncle,
Another New Age chat show Oprah-Christ,
Babble in forked-tongue:
"First you must love yourself,
Before you are able to love anyone else",
I promise,
I will puke the blood of a thousand dodos,
Pull out from my ears the tails of wailing mermaids,
Weep the tears of the Martian Pyramid Pharaohs,
Piss the holy ectoplasm
of one apologetic millionaire stockbroker,
Crunch on the teeth of a dead Icelandic troll,
And then?
Then gaze at a waning moon,
And whisper..
It just ain't so.

It just ain't so.

And as I water-board the first self-help narcissist,
With the boiling snake oil of the last deep-think toxic dalek,
I'll wonder what kind of air,
Do such sages breathe.
You have to love yourself first?
Why?
No thanks.
I don't want to love myself.
I don't.
Sorry.
And I don't need to love myself,
To love someone else.

Respect yourself,
If you think you're deserving;
Like yourself,
If you like;
And love another,
As you can;
Then, maybe,
If you're lucky,
You'll be touched by an open heart,
That yearns to,
Belong,
To another;
Two hearts, now,
Closer to the senseless beauty of Life.

In Extremisly, The Mustard Slayer

I am a tad dumbfounded,
A teeny bit stunned,
A smidgen aghast,
A tiddly bit amazed..
That this jar of French mustard,
Not that one - this one,
Is nearly,
Six,
Count them:
Six days,
Past its "use by" date!
Passing its "sell by" date is dangerous enough,
But its "use by"?
No wonder I've been collapsing all over the place,
Frothing at the mouth most unseemly,
Spouting crazy and quite deranged thoughts,
To giggling,
And - I have to say - deeply unsympathetic,
Passers-by.

My behaviour makes perfect sense now:
I was poisoned!
Poisoned I tell you,
By a jar of deeply expired,
Egregiously decayed,
Gravely gone,
French mustard!

I'm totally overtly,
Ghostly toast.
Empirically scientifically,
Most in extemisly,
Death-carded by a jar of French mustard!

My vitalish man's body,
Now,
Permanently poisoned,
I haven't even written my will.
Where is my God then?
Where are my rights then?
Why is it always the good ones that die such young,
Deaths,
So suddenly,
So spectacularly
Tragically and bizarre?
I surmise it's because:
We toy,
We toy and dance on life's bendy edge,
Like a drunken garden gnome,
Tottering, wobbly on a window ledge.
Such poets as I?
Yes, such poets as I,
Yes you - I, Me!
Done in,
By a jar of morgue-friendly French mustard!

Adieu then.

You don't care do you?
And please,
Don't tell me I'm exaggerating..

The Wonderful World Of Nimo Scowell

In a parallel universe,
Beyond trillions of light years away,
Lies Alternate Earth,
Where reality is so very different from our own:
The people are violet, emerald and silver;
Trees, sky goblins and penguins,
Cause global heating;
Cats and dogs are livestock;
Siamese cows and poodle gnomes
are considered the cutest, furriest house pets;
Most musicians are militant celibates;
And politicians are highly regarded as:
Trustworthy and honest,
Altruistic and self-sacrificing,
Wonderful and civic-minded public servants.
And,
The X-Factor contestants,
Perform live cover-versions of pop songs!

One of the show's judges - Nimo Scowell,
Is handsomely paid millions,
By the t.v channel,
For the privilege,
Of allowing the winners,
To make him even millions more,
Through his tie-in recording deals with them.
And,
On top of that,
His former proteges - now nano-superstars,
Are invited back onto the show,
As special guests,
To mime,
Their original neo-karaoke product-placement,
In super-glorious prime-time!
Guaranteeing even more cash tills ringing,
Like acute tinnitus,
For Nimo - the real X-Factor winner,
Every year!
Every year!

All this makes perfect sense,
On Alternate Earth,
And seems not to contravene,
Broadcasting, self-promotion and advertising rules there,
In any way!

Huh!

Give A Fish A Man

Give a man a fish,
And you can feed him for a day,
But give a fish a man,
And you can feed a fish a lifetime,
And a man can eat some chips,
Whilst he's feeding a fish.

Nothing

I'm thinking about nothing,
I'm thinking about nothing at all.
But now I'm thinking about thinking about nothing,
Does this mean I'm thinking,
About..almost nothing at all?
Almost something,
Almost nothing,
Something and nothing at all.

In All Good Book Shops

This piece of poetry,
Is,
In fact,
No such thing.
What this is,
Is a highly contentious,
Pseudo virtual reality,
Installation art artifact.
And as such,
Right now,
At this very unique moment,
In space-time,
(Greenwich Mean Time space time),
A panel of cultural experts,
Are discussing,
Animatedly,
On Newsnight Review,
On BBC 2,
Katie Price's,
Latest,
Semi-autobiographical,
Ghost-written novel.

Katie Price has admitted,
That,
(Unlike some of her critics),
She hasn't had time to read her novels,
But she knows her ghost-writer really well,
And Katie outlined the storyline idea to her.

The novel has already received good reviews!
And one book reviewer,
Ironically,
Apprehended,
Apprehended that Katie,
(If she ever has the inclination),
May not enjoy reading her second,
Semi-autobiographical,
Ghost-penned novel,
For its playful, cheeky,
Bite-the-hand-that-feeds-me humour.

Her ghost-writer has real talent,
And they loved it!

Her novel is now available,
In all good book shops,
But honestly,
I don't know,
How available it is,
In all the bad ones.

All Your Ideas

"Wonderful breath-taking photography"

"Beautiful soundtrack..Amazing and life-affirming film"

"Never a dull moment..I laughed. I cried.."

"Stellar acting, spectacular stunts: a work of true genius!"

"Magical!"

Health and safety Awareness, Unit 2, Level
1 (intermediate):

"Hidden Fire Hazards in Workplace Toilets
Awareness"

After you have all watched the film,

I want you to break up into 3 groups of 4,

And 1 group of 3,

3, because there are only 3 of you left in the last group,

Which is a bit unfair,

So I'll join you to make up the numbers,

So in a very real way you will be 4.

So:

1,2,3,4,

1,2,3,4,

1,2,3,4,

And,

1,2,3,

Plus me equals 4.

And,

Can the 1's go over there please,

With the 2's going over there,

The 3's over there,

But the 4's,

You stay here with me please,

Okay?

And what I want you to do

Is,

On your flip charts,

Brain-storm,

(I can never remember whether that is one word or two,

Which is kind of ironic in a funny kind of way,

If you think about it,

But never mind..)

Brain-storm,

All your ideas,

About...,

Uh..

An Ordinary Saturday Night-Shift Lunch Break

An iridescent snow-white full moon,
Shimmers and spotlights the River Thames,
Silvery black oil inflected waves,
Snake and lap and undulate,
Lazily but curiously,
Around the neon party boats,
Booming music and soundtrack laughter,
Drum on my erotic thoughts,
On my night-shift lunch hour.

As I stroll to the newsagents,
For my crisps and chocolate,
Generic Latino beats mix in,
Simmer,
And blow down dark heat from that club.
Wonder what the girls look like,
I want to go imagineering,
The most spectacular oral pleasures they will ever know,
Or at least better than so-so,
Whoah!
Where am I going with this?
No, No, No!

Oh,
But I want my chocolate-chip flavoured crisps also.

Thank you.

Now I must return,
My Saturday night-shift lunch break,
Will soon be over,
I stroll back to the Dalek's head,
The waves surround-sound,
A cosmic sweep of a thousand distant, deep bells,
Ethereal,
Melting chimes sigh down,
Splashing from the moon steeples,
Showering the drunken choirs,
Floating on their rainbows rising.

Away!
I feel presence:
The swooping, gliding lunar shadows,
As,
Winged and dancing angels' feathers,
Touch,
Touch.
I'm not even drunk.

Yes,
The night-shift has its benefits.

If America Can Bomb The Moon For Water We Should Bomb An Asteroid For Milk

The Americans have just bombed the moon,
For water,
"They've murdered the fucking Clangers!"
"How can Barack Obama win the Nobel Peace Prize,
When his country's just bombed the shit out of the Clangers?
Even Bush never did that!
Isn't that alienist or something?"
Scream the battalions of deeply traumatised
T.V. shut-in channel-surfers,
Well maybe it is.
And of course the American scientists will be perplexed:
"We seem to have bombed subterranean soup mines,
Hidden in craters on the moon,
Our satellites indicate plumes of strange soup,
And remnants of a dead dragon caterer,
Spraying up into the lunar sky!
Oh, and we've bombed a bit of water as well.
WTF?!"

WTF indeed.

As a glorious subject of America Junior,
I contend:
If America can bomb the moon for water,
We should bomb an asteroid for milk.
We must join in,
Shoulder to shoulder.
It's only right.

The liberal student clanger
retro loving agenda,
Is so over.

And when it's economically prudent,
But not a moment before,
Let's bomb Mars for custard,
And let's bomb Jupiter for gravy.

Just as a present to ourselves really:
As a kind of reward to all humanity,
For the fiscal discipline we are currently suffering,
To ensure a viable future for all our children,
And in turn their children,
When our children fuck and are blessed with child.

The Ex Factor

She's the most beautiful,
Most exotic,
Most sensual,
Most voluptuous,
Ex-girlfriend,
A man can ever have,
I will never need for
another ex-girlfriend again.

Fallen Blancmange

Have you ever vacuumed a fallen blancmange?,
Don't do it.
Last Thursday,
(It's always last Thursday's strange things happen to me),
I vacuumed a fallen blancmange -
Vegan strawberry flavour -
It crash-splurged tragically
on the unforgiving floor,
Splattered uniquely,
Jackson Pollockly,
I ran like a crash team doctor,
Untethered the vacuum,
And plugged it in,
I shouted at the witnesses "stand back!",
But as I nozzled the vegan strawberry blancmange,
The vacuum motor screamed,
Then imploded,
The blancmange in its dust bag exploded,
One witness fainted,
So another punched my nose in,
Surgically.

Reflections Of An Ex-Banker

A former banker,
For Lehman Brothers,
Was interviewed on the news,
To talk about how she felt,
On the anniversary of the collapse of her bank,
That precipitated the global financial meltdown,
And from where the term Credit Crunch,
Born kicking and screaming,
Rudely gate-crashed into the lexicon,
And lives,
Of billions of poor souls,
Who will now be indebted for,
Forever.

She,
This ex banker reflected,
And after a few deep seconds of that,
Concluded,
The near collapse of the economy,
Had - ironically - done her,
And her former Lehman Brothers' colleagues,
The world of good:
She has re-prioritised her life,
She now realises,
It's not all about the money,
After all.

And as I sat there,
Listening to this ex banker's spiritual epiphany,
I don't mind sharing with you,
I felt all warm inside,
Gooey, even,
And at one with creation and nature.
I'm so glad for her,
And I hope you too will join me,
In wishing her well,
Pleased that her new cafe venture,
Is the stunning success it is.

So well done to her,
And her former colleagues,
All still friends,
Sticking together after all that unpleasantness.
They have all moved on now,
And she assured the interviewer,
Are not sad or regretful,
No, not in any way:
What's the point?

That's the spirit!

Golfism

I Don't trust people who play golf,
Not at all.
Maybe I'm golfist,
Or should that be golfphobic?,
Although I've nothing against golfers being gay,
So I'm definitely not golfophobic.

The golfer ruthlessly yanked his clubs,
From the jammed turnstiles,
And walked away,
Just like that!
The nazi.

Cod Philosophers

Vegetarians that eat fish:
Are you cod philosophers?

Fish eating vegetarians:
Please stop!
Not all vegetarians eat fish, you know.

Poems That Don't Rhyme

I read somewhere,
Poems that don't rhyme,
Are taken very seriously,
So now I know why,
My attempts at humourous poetry,
Always fail to raise a smile.

------------------------------------------------

She Has Such A Wonderful Facility For Words (Thesaurus Rex)

She has such a wonderful facility for words,
With a sauna, gym, cafe,
and revolving Japanese roof garden,
Complete with a haiku maze!
She has the most magical facility for words,
This side of town,
Pity my facility's such a pedestrian
two-up-two-down.

-------------------------------------------------

Celebrities In Need Appeal

Celebrities In Need,
Is a charity,
That aims to raise,
Awareness in the non-celebrity communities,
About the wonderful charity work,
That celebrities do,
On their deeply deprived civilian behalf.

Out of every pound raised,
For,
Celebrities In Need,
Ninety-one pence,
Will go directly to front line celebrities,
Their managers, and agents,
And P.R.,
On the ground,
Guaranteed.

Remember,

Celebrities need your love all year round,
Not just at Christmas.
Think about it:
All year round.

Let's allow them to let you let them help you,
And it's so easy too:
All you need do is set up a direct debit,
By going to:
www.celebritiesinneedappeal.com/gak
and they will do the rest.

-------------------------------------------------

Loyalty Card

You wont believe this,
But I've just added,
One hundred and seventy points,
To my personal club card total,
No lie!
Which means that if I collect just another
thirteen thousand and nineteen,
More loyalty points,
I will get a forty percent discount,
On all the supermarket's "World Of Wonder Gourmet Range" products,
On special offer,
Up to the value of eleven pounds,
As long as my loyalty points are redeemed,
Within six months, four days, and three hours from now,
This very minute,
Exactly.

I know what you're thinking:
You're thinking, it wont be easy.
I know!
But I suppose,
It would spoil the fun if it was too easy.
So if I stay motivated and target oriented,
and positively mercenary,
I'm incredibly optimistic,
It is within me,
To achieve this.

And,

At this point,
Allow me to say this to you:
If I can do this,
I'm sure you can too!
You can!
So best of luck to you.

And,
As well,
Please ignore those strange people,
That claim loyalty cards,
Are a so-called complete brain washing, marketing scam,
Who are they anyway?
I'll tell you who they are:
They are the same cynics,
Who would have you believe,
Princess Diana,
Was killed by her drunk driver,
In a blameless drink/drugs driving accident!
No conspiracy!
Oh really?

How negative is that?

My friend calls such kinds,
Unrevolved.
I don't hate them for that:
Being unrevolved.
(That's a great description isn't it?),
Actually,
I just feel slightly sorry for them,
That's all.
Difficult childhood probably.
We shouldn't judge them too harshly then.
It could have been us.

-------------------------------------------------

Illegal Downloading Kills Poetry

I sincerely,
Hope,
You are not,
Considering,
Illegally downloading this poem,
For free.

I mean,
You would never dream,
Of physically shoplifting a poem,
With your own bare hands,
Would you?
Of course you wouldn't.

Okay,
Thank you.
Just pop down,
To your local, friendly,
Good poem shop,
Every shopping mall has one,
And purchase this poem,
With cash or credit card.

I know you want to sleep,
With a gloriously clear conscience,
At night,
Don't you?
Of course you do.

May I say,
God bless you?
God bless you.

Help your tragic poet
help you.

And yes,
I feel your love,
As I cry for you.

It's not easy,
Being an authentic tragic poet,
There are so many different kinds
to choose from these days:
What kind should I be?
I know it's not meant,
To be,
Easy.
It's my vocation
Tragically.

So please don't download,
All this sorrow,
My sorrow,
For free.
One day you will thank me,
You will,
Honestly.

Let me say,
One tragic poem bought,
Will allow me,
One quarter a slice of dry bread,
A single squirt of very average shower gel,
And two industrial rose petals,
That's not too much to ask,
I don't ask for much anyway,
I don't believe in it.

It's up to you.
It really is,
Up to you.

All that's left for me to say,
Is take care,
And I love you.

Product Placement with New and Improved Disclaimer

Please rest assured,
that all product placement integrated
within these poems,
will be handled with the utmost sensitivity,
and aligned aesthetically,
within the artistic bodies of the poetry
as unobtrusively as possible.
All products are advertised subliminally,
and,
flashed underneath the poetry
for a few nano seconds only.
So in all probability,
you will not be consciously aware,
of the advertising placed igloo
on ice this cream poetry site.
We recognise that this is as it should be,
and the advertisers are happy to compromise,
for the sake of delivering
as pleasing a tragic poetry experience as possible.

* Legal Disclaimer
The advertisers indemnify themselves
against any liability,
for any psychic disgorgement,
the poetry consumer may experience,
due to any unforeseen disruption to flow.

Never Again

Eventually,
I went to a stand up poetry gig,
Never again,
Never again.

Every audience member around me,
Listened,
The way you would listen,
To an answerphone message,
While you are drowning in a bath,
Mutual water boarding,
Rumsfeld jazz,
The repeated administration of legitimate force.
I had to leave,
Thank God I lost the will to breath,
It's worse than stand up comedy,
Never again.

Do You Believe In Miracles?

I've three new emails,
One from a dying Nigerian colonel,

He wants my bank details,

So he can send me fifty-four million pounds.

Wow!

A saucy pharmacist from Los Angeles,

Is offering a huge discount on "adult pills",

She promises they'll give me,

"A thicker, stronger member,

as hard as tensile steel, all night long..",

Promising!

And the third?

It's a threat:

I will be cursed forever,

If I don't open the attachment,

Immediately!

I'm not scared though,

Not now.

For soon I'll be a multi millionaire,

With sexed up magic pills.

Game over!

My personal bailiff told me,

That I should be due for some good luck,
Soon.

Shows,
There are still,
In this world,
Kind strangers.

All I need now?
A bank account,
And a girlfriend.
But I believe in miracles.

I hope you do too.

This Is Not A Poem

This is not a poem,
Poem, not.

Martian Astrology

What does Earth represent for Martian astrologers?

For their astronomers,
I'm sure,
It's war.

Wish Fulfillment

Wish,

I wish to re experience,
That memory,
Again,
But,
Without the yearning,
Wistfulness foretold,

Then.

Don't You Know Who I Am?

"Don't you know who I am?"
The hotel receptionist
drew a blank,
The celebrity looked at the blank
that she drew,
And said,
"No wonder I forgot,
But thanks."

"Keep it."
She replied,
"I often draw blanks
for amnesiac celebrities,
emotional and tired."
"Which other celebrities are those?"
He enquired,
"I can't remember."
She smiled.

Imagine (part 2)

Socialised banking
everywhere,
Bankers socialised
neverywhere,
Yin Yang,
A nice compromise,
Man.
Imagine their possessions,
They don't have to try.

Hari Rama,
Hari Krishna,
Hari Hari Krishna.

Dreaming Lemmings

Do Australian lemmings,
Fall up,
Into the sky,
And crash,
Head first,
Into the moon?

Do dreaming lemmings,
Sleep walk,
To the horizon,
And drop,
At sunset,
Off the edge,
Of the world?

----------------------------------------------------------------

These questions,
And more,
Will be answered,
On tonight's edition
Of,
"When Grannies Attack!"

Now with high definition,
3D,
C.C.T.V.,
Footage.
Real-to-life violent grandmother action,
In your living room.
"When Grannies Attack!"