From the daughter who whispered against her parents, To the mother who refused to lie on her own unmade bed; From the son who kicked against the traces, To the father who artificially heightened his own sperm count; Rejoice, for you are all the enemy within. From the milkman who pissed in the orange juice, … Continue reading Poetry on the Hoof: The Enemy Within. Rejoice!
There’s no such thing as an Englishman, He really doesn’t exist. There was never a castle, a moat, a drawbridge, His house failed to subsist. There’s no such thing as an Englishman, With blood deep blue, and skin ghost white. There’s no such thing as fists of red, Shaking in varicosed fright. Because an Englishman … Continue reading Poetry on the Hoof: There’s No Such Thing as an Englishman.
The feeder primary school feeds the secondary school which feeds the universities or the workforce. The feeder primary school is fed by nursery schools who, in turn, are fed by child minders, nannies or parents and finally the cradle or the grave. Such is the feeding chain: Each school is fed by or feeds another. … Continue reading Poetry on the Hoof: Feeding frenzy (How Schools Devour Each Other)
Knowledge of the first kind is the stats, the dates, the measurements. The what, the when, the where. Knowledge of the second kind is the interpretations, the rational analysis of observable events. The scientific, analytic, predictive. The regulatory, the politic. The how, the whether. Artists knowledge is knowledge of the third kind. Sensory and sensitive, … Continue reading Poetry on the Hoof: Artists Knowledge (Close Encounters of the Third Kind)
There's nothing more to add. So I won't. Don't expect to have the final word. Because I've had it. And another thing. Don't get me started. Let me be clear.
Its not Shakespeare's birthday But the anniversary of his death day. What is there left to say About a writer who made generations sweat with dismay About their innate inability To comprehend the way The people parleyed In those days? His iambic pentameter His turns of phrase Were well made Worthy of praise. But why would those, … Continue reading Poetry on the Hoof: It’s not Shakespeare’s Birthday
The dog ate my homework, I didn't have time, My shirt didn't fit I thought it looked fine. You said it was Tuesday but it was in fact Thursday. I forgot to get up, The battery was flat, I didn't know you had to ask, I didn't know life was like that. I turned up … Continue reading Poetry on the Hoof: Best Excuses (dedicated to David Moyes)
Here is a hypertext poem Click on the shiny blue links Shining like micro-lighthouses follow the links another open page Choose 6 words or phrases from that page And type them here: And before you know it And here You'll wander a And here Veritable forest of And here Meanings references yet more links yet … Continue reading Poetry on the Hoof: This is a Hypertext Poem.
On the one hand this, On the other hand that, On the one hand chit, On the other hand chat, Every move you make You see your face again, Every way you sit You seat yourself in pain; (Squirming) On the one hand this On the other hand that, shadows on the wall smearing you … Continue reading Poetry on the Hoof: On the one hand this, on the other hand that