Late Twentieth-Century Techno-Funk Wake-Up Call
Get up.
Get on up. Beep.
Get up.
Get on up. Beep. Threep.
Get up.
Get on up. Beeeeep. Threeeeep.
Stay on the scene
like a fax machine.
A poem about the moon
Selected poemsHow Hard It Is to Be the Moon
How hard it is to be the moon.
I hang palely in the sky,
while all else shines and sparkles
and the shooting stars go by.
And on Earth, the useless poets
scribble words in praise of me
for recital by young lovers,
gazing moonstruck at the sea.
For a time I had some company
but then the visits stopped.
Magnificent desolation
is carved deep into my rock.
The tides sweep in and out once more.
That’s the way things always are.
The Earth goes about its business.
I float alone, among the stars.
A poem about my experience of ‘travelling’ on Britain’s railways
Selected poemsThe Poet Now Standing at Platform 3A
The poet now standing at platform 3A
is the delayed 14.30 speaker for the Wits’ End Poetry Festival,
calling at: Longwaite; Anguish; Bleakside;
Much Wallowing-in-the-Mire; Little Hope;
Hangdog Manor; High Dudgeon; Irk; Fuckham; Mope;
Doldrum Parkway; Wearyside Central; and Wits’ End.
We are sorry to announce this poet is delayed
by approximately one hour and fifteen minutes.
Please listen for further announcements.
We apologise for the inconvenience this may cause.
The poet now standing at platform 3A
is the delayed 14.30 speaker for the Wits’ End Poetry Festival.
Please note, this poet will now NOT be stopping at:
Great Ease; Serenity Junction; or Arrival-on-Time.
This poet has been delayed by approximately one hour
and forty-eight minutes.
Customers are advised to stand well back from the poet,
who’s on edge.
Please listen for further announcements.
We apologise for the disruption to your journey today.
The poet currently standing at platform 3A
is the delayed 14.30 speaker for the Wits’ End Poetry Festival.
This poet consists of nine elements:
oxygen, carbon, hydrogen, tedium, delirium,
odium, caffeine, shortbread, and despair.
A trolley service, featuring mild palpitations
and a selection of hot and cold sweats,
is trundling through this poet.
This poet has been delayed by approximately two hours
and twenty-three minutes.
Please listen for further disruptions.
We apologise for the announcements to your journey today.
There has been a platform altercation.
The agony at platform 3A does not stop here.
The 14.30 speaker for the Wits’ End Poetry Festival has been disrupted.
Customers should not bore the poet at this time.
The platform now standing on poet 3A has been delayed
by approximately three hours and forty-two minutes.
We apologise for the apologies to your disruptions today.
If you hear an announcement that doesn’t sound right,
seek your stash. Or text a local dealer on 61016
to help you through this.
He’ll sort it. Seek it. Pay it. Snorted.
Please note that for your safety and comfort
this station operates a no trains policy.
The festival now standing at poet 14.30 is the delayed
3A speaker for the Wits’ End Poetry platform.
We are sorry to announce that this poet has been waylaid
by approximately four hours and twenty-two minutes.
Will passengers intending to travel on this service
make their way to the platform as the poet is now ready to jump.
Please note that longings must not be left unattended at this station.
Any hope left unattended may be removed without warning, or destroyed.
This is a customer announcement.
The 14.30 speaker for the Wits’ End Poetry Festival has terminated here.
A bard replacement service will be in operation.
We apologise for any inconvenience this may cause.
A poem which contains some fancy words
Selected poemsLogomachy
To say that Damian
was sesquipedalian
would be an understatement
for there was no abatement
in his capacity for loquacity
and not one trace of temerity
in his pursuit
of verbal dexterity.
It was precisely this pomposity
mixed with verbosity
which made him describe
Kieran Thomas as “crepuscular”.
Kieran Thomas was also more muscular.
Damian nursed his black eye
and hoped Kieran
might be struck down with
pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis.
Look … a book
NewsDead chuffed to have taken delivery today of advance copies of ‘How to Lay an Egg with a Horse Inside’, which comes out next month.
As ever, Picador have done a fabulous job in bringing my work to the printed page.
Incredibly, it’s my tenth book. I don’t quite know how that has happened.
Thanks to everyone for having indulged me for so long.
A poem for World Meteorological Day
Selected poemsAnd Now for the Weather
Today is set to be agreeably alliterative
across an assortment of areas
although the occasional metaphor
may cause some faces to cloud.
Idioms will be coming down like stair rods
in northern regions, while the south
may experience the odd outbreak of similes,
like an unexpected shower of arrows.
In coastal, littoral, and seaside areas,
synonyms remain likely.
Further inland, sudden gusts of hyperbole
look set to take your breath away
and a series of scattered euphemisms
will have you reaching for your wellies.
If you’re driving, please be aware that tautologies
of frozen ice are still affecting some roads,
after a heavy, prolonged flurry of oxymorons.
And finally – from tomorrow evening –
expect the return of some light litotes,
making next week’s outlook hardly the best.
Poem written while waiting for a train at a provincial railway station
Selected poemsIf I Could Have My Time Over
If I could have my time over,
I would do it all differently
and not treat each precious moment
with such disregard and flippancy.
I would use my time effectively,
I would think ahead and plan.
I would reserve my stores of energy,
and take charge when I can.
But it’s too late in the journey
for regret, too late to repent –
because there’s not a socket in sight,
and my battery’s on one per ce
World Book Day Book Awareness Day
News
Given it’s World Book Day, I suppose I should mention that I’ve got a new book coming out next month.
It’s called ‘How to Lay an Egg with a Horse Inside’: a collection of new poems, which also doubles up as a guide to enjoying and writing poetry.
It is not altogether serious.
It’s pre-orderable through your local friendly bookshop, plus those online ones.
Signed copies are available through the UK indie bookshops and here: https://uk.bookshop.org/a/295/9781035085729
A short poem about Morrissey’s fridge
Selected poemsMorrissey’s Fridge
Morrissey
was filled
with sudden
self-doubt
as he shut
his fridge door –
did the light
never go out?
Pulp Poetry
Selected poemsCommon Peephole
She came from Greece,
she had a faulty socket.
Her eye fell out,
she couldn’t stop it.
That’s when I
caught her eye.
