Scrape on the river bed
Sunday, 1 November 2026
Hands at Work
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Friday, 30 October 2026
Counting cows
Now all the hills are calling
and the weigh bridge is asleep
All the the candles blowing
And I can't see to peep
Out of the curtains
On the people on the street
Because it
all looks
As if it's snowing
Or maybe it is sleet
I hold the parcel
And they hold the meal
We win the castle
But we cannot take the field
If you had asked
Where I'd be ten years
From now
I'd turn and I'd answer
I'd probably
be counting cows
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Monday, 26 October 2026
Troy town
I used to be a policeman
but then didn't like it, didn't it
didn't didn't it
If were a policeman I would bang you
to rights
You have got so many vices
And it isn't nice
Come you must rearrange how you treat
The strangers
In your town
You bring me down
I didn't like, didn't like
Didn't like it
Don't you know that we're all the same
You call us by a different name
So treat us like the other
We could be your long lost brother
I don't think you have read that much
Never heard of Ulysses and such
Well there was once a place named Troy
And they spoiled the life of a little boy
He was just an innocent shepherd
Until he thought he'd be something better
The bright city lights
Changed his mind over night
And I didn't like it, didn't like it,
didn't like it
He fell in love with girl named Helen
He thought he could take her
And they'd be in heaven
So he tricked the palace by being their friends
But they never knew he wouldn't make amends
Helen was the girl next door
But he was rich and she wasn't poor
He stole her from Menelaus
Who got angry said Paris would pay us
Then he got Agamemnon involved
And it all went to hell in a hand cart I'm told
And they didn't like it, didn't like it, didn't like it
So next time you refuse a stranger a hand
Just remember what happened in that ancient land
The Greeks got pissed and they destroyed Troy
Well with a little help from Odysseus' toy
A little gift horse they looked in the mouth
Turned out to be the whole world went south
And they didn't like it, didn't like it, didn't like it
So you want to accuse and to blame
a perfect stranger of what's never named
So you want to mock and defame
A guest who's come to your house, for shame
They didn't like it, didn't like it, and I feel the same
I didn't like it, didn't like it, didn't like it
And every time you try to slander my name
And put out a rumour that tries to declaim
I did something that I've never done
Well I don't like that and your time will come
Yes your time will come, your time will come
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Sunday, 25 October 2026
Too many heads
Nanny state and nanny's arms
Bubble gum childish charms
No one holds responsibility
No one talks it through
Nanny goat, nono nono
Nanny the boats coming through
Given women undue power
Their troubled terms
Of Trump tower
I was sitting direct to trump
He was small and irrelevant
In the corner another overheard
And I thought it was Donald bird
There was a swimming pool
the fast lane it was full of fools
The slow lane too contained tools
The middle contained nuts and rules
You wake and realise the irrelevance
Of all these theories of equivalence
Power is in others' hands
until it's wrestled by he who stands
To take back control
From the bourgeoise capital
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Saturday, 24 October 2026
The monkey and the monk
Monkey: I'm a monkey
Monk: And I’m a monk
Monkey: I've got a pocket full
of junk
Monk: I’ve got a skeleton in the
trunk
Monkey: And it smells like a
skunk
Monkey: I am hunky
Monk: I’m not a hunk
Monkey: I am chunky
Monk: I’m a chunk
Monkey: I play the honky-tonk
Monk : Well, he’s a monkey not
a monk
Both: We’re in a one-horse town
Both: We don't wanna let ourselves
down
Monkey: He’s in a one-horse
town
Monk: He keeps letting me down
Monk: Oh so won't you let me
in?
Monkey: I don't wanna live
without sin
Monkey: I'm a sinner
Monk: I’m a saint
Monkey: I'm painter who has to
paint
Monkey: I'm gonna cater for you
Cate
Monk: I'll see you later don't
be late
Monkey: I am funky
Monk: I’m in a funk
Monkey: I'm not your a donkey
Monk: No, you’re my donk
Monkey: I'm wonky
Monk: And I’m a wonk
Monk: Well, he’s a monkey
Monkey: And he’s a monk
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Monk not a monkey
I'm a monk not a monkey
I'm in a funk, I'm not funky
My ship has sunk, I'm a song key
Singing out
I'm a monk not a monkey
I'm in six ton van
Gonna go uptown
I'm in a six ton van
Gonna drive uptown
So won't you turf me out
I'm gonna surf some trout
I'm a monk not a monkey
I'm a shonk not a shonkey
I'm a chunk not a chunky
I'm a monk not a monkey
I'm a saint not a sinner
I wanna lose weight and get thinner
So if you can strip my paint
I'm not looking for a taint
Leave me be at the pearly gate
I'm gonna meet Saint Peter who won't wait
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Friday, 23 October 2026
The Demon Buzzard of the Marchy Moor
It's no use closing your door
He will come tapping at your window
You're never safe
Always look over your shoulder
You might see a black shape circling in the sky
It might seem quite innocuous just a regular birdie fly
But look in your binocular, take a good look at his eye
He has a demon green sparkle in it, he knows you'll have to die
You might be out late one night returning home from the boozer
You might walk down the straight long road and be ready for a snoozer
You'll be wrong when hear his song, like a screeching upon high
Don't be long, you better run, because tonight might be your turn to die
Oh look over your shoulder, look back you better beware
Just watch out for that attack, never think that he's not there
But now he's got the taste for human meat,
Perhaps one night he robbed a baby from a pram
Unattended down the street
And now he knows the tender flesh crunching in his beak
He wants to take your head in his talons until you cannot speak
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.