ALL TOGETHER NOW LADS! Wind farm blade, wind farm blade, Everything you want from a Wind farm blade. We're all going on a beer hunt lads! From hanging town, brief encounters, To Holke hang out, submariner sheds, We’re getting our names up in those causeway lights! HEYSHAM HIGH HOPES Spot the jogging bishop with a … Continue reading Poetry on the Hoof: The (rail) road to Barra
In an age of shortening fuses, tempers, and attention spans not many of us have enough time or inclination to read much beyond the first few syllables of a poem, novel or academic treatise. See, I’ve lost you already. The hashtag poem series acknowledges this poor state of affairs and instead of plying you with … Continue reading Poetry on the Hoof: Hashtag Poems
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m very, very sorry, For the delays, the disruption, the chaos, we've brought To your daily routine. We’re sorry the tram stopped running, We’re sorry the bus driver forgot to turn up for work, We’re sorry the road’s been dug up over night, We’re all sorry, sorry, very very sorry. Sorry … Continue reading Poetry on the Hoof: Soz.
Jeremy: I wanted to be... a Crazy Old Trot! Leaping from sect to sect, as they float through the mighty rivers of the British Labour Party... The Giant International Socialist. The SDP. The Far Right! The mighty SNP! The lofty flowering Communists! The plucky little SWP! The limping soft Tory of Aldershot! The Maidenhead Weeping … Continue reading Crazy old Trot! (with thanks to Monty Python)
The Policy Police. Monitor late shut downs, Enumerate melts downs, Determinate who's in and out, what where and why. The Policy Police. Evaluate who's right, Defenestrate who's wrong, Celebrate nothing but the lazy well behaved. The Policy Police. Legislate the left side, Navigate the right tide, Execute state orders to an inch of their lives. … Continue reading Poetry on the Hoof: The Policy Police.
Creative Accountancy. Isn't what its cracked up to be. They just don't make 'em like that any more. More's the pity. Creative Accountants. Sweat spreadsheets. Wishing they were. Between the sheets with the guy next door.
It ain't over till it's over, It ain't done till it's done, The fat lady ain't singing yet, She's sat inside her tent. It ain't over till it's over It ain't done till it's done, The carnival ain't started, The clown's not yet farted. It ain't over till it's over, It ain't done till it's … Continue reading Poetry on the Hoof: It Ain’t Over ’till It’s Over.
Habituated office workers, Establish habits. Inhabit habitats of their own making and Resist the habits of others. You're not from around 'ere, They sneer, Over their cubicle parapets, Building moats and pulling up drawbridges. The more they’re habituated, The more they resist. Undermining The Others’ habits, From their habituated offices. There's cakes in the kitchen, … Continue reading Poetry on the Hoof: the hot desk and the habits of habituated people
No No No No No No No. No No No No No No No. No No No No No No No. No No No No No No No. No No No No No No No. No No No No No No No. No No No No No No No. No No No No No No … Continue reading Poetry on the Hoof: Resistance is Futile