Thursday, 29 May 2008
Cherry blossom and my foot
Entwined with black-haired octopus ink
At the parquet eardrums
In this face with snails beneath my belly.
Handfuls of frayed, taped, cables
Fill the boxes of my nervous system,
Their kettle-leads teeming with bloodworms,
And I cast before you
Shoals of glittering, chattering, wrasse
That speak your name.
Saturday, 24 May 2008
Give joy to your beloved woman,
Stop squandering your youth now,
The girl is looking for you
To do april.
Bring joy to your life,
Highly sought after
From me with love.
And now you know ... The Rest of the Story.
Be seeing you.
Thursday, 15 May 2008
Wednesday, 14 May 2008
Sunday, 11 May 2008
Thursday, 8 May 2008
Tuesday, 6 May 2008
... the damned Home Counties, always London's bane, her worst enemies, her potentially deadly parasites. They're driving out most Londoners and taking over our houses, street by street ... Complaining all the time, these half-educated drones are filling up Fulham and Finchley with their stripped pine and snotty little ill-trained babies, taking over our resources, creating ghettos as they go. London will soon cease to be cosmopolitan. Those pale-faced parkers are all the bloody same ... They should be kept in reservations, limited to South Ken and to Chelsea, not encouraged to move into Clapham and Battersea and god knows where else. You hear them moaning about the people who were born there as if those were the interlopers. It's classic imperialism.