Goodbye Rusty, Old Heavy-Clutch,
Farewell to your worn synchromesh causing third gear to crunch,
No more stop-start traffic, drinking fuel too much,
No more motorway miles to munch.
Don't worry about your constant velocity joint gaitor
No longer preventing the ingress of dirt,
You were tough, large, and powerful on paper
But in the end a Y reg Transit took you out and really hurt.
No more MOTs to pass,
No more oil or filters to change
No more long drives with a numb arse,
No more petrol mileage or range.
In at least three shades of Nightfire red,
And various spots of rust
With a single camshaft, overhead
And a light coating of dust.
So goodbye old Rover, now you are dead
And in a pieces shall you rust.
Rover "Shitmobile" 620SLi: 1995-2016
Toilet Poems
A bunch of poems that will definitely never be in the AQA Anthology.
Monday, 14 November 2016
Friday, 1 May 2015
Inside Job
Jet black enveloping shroud
Fuel for thought dwindled
Can't help my once solid form
Melt away although cold as
Steel, like the deceptive chill behind the
Beams of blinding light
Fuel for thought dwindled
Can't help my once solid form
Melt away although cold as
Steel, like the deceptive chill behind the
Beams of blinding light
Thursday, 24 April 2014
Pay Me, You Fucks!
I've been doing this shit for over a year
Bashing out poems, and I've yet to hear
From any publishers willing to make
My poems famous, make no mistake
You'll be raking in cash faster than you can tell
Me to fuck off, in which case I'll yell:
"I am the next Benjamin Zephaniah!"
Although I'm not black, and his income's higher
But no matter, because I have the drive and passion
To produce masterpiece poems in magniflorious fashion
And I'll tattoo one on my arse, you'll see
Passive-aggressive til I die, you've not heard the last of me!
Bashing out poems, and I've yet to hear
From any publishers willing to make
My poems famous, make no mistake
You'll be raking in cash faster than you can tell
Me to fuck off, in which case I'll yell:
"I am the next Benjamin Zephaniah!"
Although I'm not black, and his income's higher
But no matter, because I have the drive and passion
To produce masterpiece poems in magniflorious fashion
And I'll tattoo one on my arse, you'll see
Passive-aggressive til I die, you've not heard the last of me!
Wednesday, 1 January 2014
The Cucumber and its Many Functions
There's so many things you can do with a cucumber:
You can chop it or dice it to go in a salad;
you can break it and sharpen it to put into a Mallard.
You can cover it in vinegar, balsamic or malt;
hold it up in the garden and attract lightning bolts.
You can hurl it through the air, like a green phallic spear;
you can dip it in Vaseline and stick it in your ear.
You can use it as a club and whack someone's bum;
you can use it as a rolling pin and squash a small plum.
You can wrap it as a present and give it to a boy called Billy;
strap it to your leg and pretend it's your willy.
Yes, there are so many uses for the humble 'cumber.
Like pretend it's a boat and sail the Humber.
You can chop it or dice it to go in a salad;
you can break it and sharpen it to put into a Mallard.
You can cover it in vinegar, balsamic or malt;
hold it up in the garden and attract lightning bolts.
You can hurl it through the air, like a green phallic spear;
you can dip it in Vaseline and stick it in your ear.
You can use it as a club and whack someone's bum;
you can use it as a rolling pin and squash a small plum.
You can wrap it as a present and give it to a boy called Billy;
strap it to your leg and pretend it's your willy.
Yes, there are so many uses for the humble 'cumber.
Like pretend it's a boat and sail the Humber.
Tuesday, 22 October 2013
How to Drive Car
Get in;
Apply seat belt;
Turn on ignition with gear leaver in neutral, and clutch depressed;
Administer Valium to depressed clutch;
Check mirrors and blind spot over right shoulder;
Signal;
Select first gear;
Bring now medicated clutch to biting point;
Depress throttle slightly to increase engine speed;
Maybe tell throttle it won't amount to anything;
Try not to be too sincere;
Release clutch fully;
Once you have reached 10 miles per hour, change into 2nd gear.
You are now free of the awful, vomit-scented grasp of public transport.
Congratulations
Apply seat belt;
Turn on ignition with gear leaver in neutral, and clutch depressed;
Administer Valium to depressed clutch;
Check mirrors and blind spot over right shoulder;
Signal;
Select first gear;
Bring now medicated clutch to biting point;
Depress throttle slightly to increase engine speed;
Maybe tell throttle it won't amount to anything;
Try not to be too sincere;
Release clutch fully;
Once you have reached 10 miles per hour, change into 2nd gear.
You are now free of the awful, vomit-scented grasp of public transport.
Congratulations
Sunday, 13 October 2013
Charlie Uniform November Tango
Fuck shit arse bugger cock piss tits
Cunt knob bastard dick anus and clits
Dick nigger shit fuck fuck fuck cock
Cum Nazi poo damn wank in a sock
Cunt fuck shit fuck cunt cunt poo
Cum spunk porridge gun I hate you
Tits arse poo piss shit fuck gelignite
Ballsacks covered in shit and Vegemite
Hate hate kill kill ducks rainbows mittens
Unicorns and ponies trampling kittens
Fuck puppies fuck puppies boil them alive
Poach yourself a wild leopard and call the cunt Clive.
Cunt knob bastard dick anus and clits
Dick nigger shit fuck fuck fuck cock
Cum Nazi poo damn wank in a sock
Cunt fuck shit fuck cunt cunt poo
Cum spunk porridge gun I hate you
Tits arse poo piss shit fuck gelignite
Ballsacks covered in shit and Vegemite
Hate hate kill kill ducks rainbows mittens
Unicorns and ponies trampling kittens
Fuck puppies fuck puppies boil them alive
Poach yourself a wild leopard and call the cunt Clive.
Wednesday, 9 October 2013
The Outer Circle Night Witch
Riding the bus, one warm summer's night
A haggard "lady" gets on, as others alight
Her clothes, on her figure, are horribly tight
She sits next to a man, she greets him; "Alright?"
For much of the journey, she goes on and on
I'm hoping her trip doesn't last very long
She rants and she yells, her voice pierces the air
With passengers trying hard not to look or to stare
She rants about her late friend "His name was Paul if you knew 'im!"
But the well-to-do man would rather not stick his nose in
With Wine Gums in my pocket, my interest is waning
But I catch a glimpse of her face, her teeth, terrible staining
I think of various ways to calm her down without provoking
Then she lets out an abominable witch's laugh
From thirty years of smoking
She alights at Battery Park and the tension lifts
As she meets up with a man, and I stop and think
"Is this cunt blind, or is he just really pissed?"
A haggard "lady" gets on, as others alight
Her clothes, on her figure, are horribly tight
She sits next to a man, she greets him; "Alright?"
For much of the journey, she goes on and on
I'm hoping her trip doesn't last very long
She rants and she yells, her voice pierces the air
With passengers trying hard not to look or to stare
She rants about her late friend "His name was Paul if you knew 'im!"
But the well-to-do man would rather not stick his nose in
With Wine Gums in my pocket, my interest is waning
But I catch a glimpse of her face, her teeth, terrible staining
I think of various ways to calm her down without provoking
Then she lets out an abominable witch's laugh
From thirty years of smoking
She alights at Battery Park and the tension lifts
As she meets up with a man, and I stop and think
"Is this cunt blind, or is he just really pissed?"
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