The otherwise engaged

Evening, or morning, or afternoon. In the absence of anything better to do with my time, I humbly present some texts which, quite reasonably, would probably never find a home anywhere else. Been sifting thorough the archives again and Lord, for a lazy man, there's quite a lot of it. Couple of them are  a bit covid-y, so, I'll go with "of their time", yes, that sounds about right. Certainly imports a gravitas and sense of historical place which, well, they may deserve. I like them, anyway. Enjoy! (or not)

Pooled words 

 I couldn’t send anything out because I’m paralysed with

Fear but if you consider how now we can carbon date the whale

Sharks then it’s one more bit of history unlocked the

Bones in their ears the constant shifting of the

Water an argument against complacency as it’s

Always somewhere everything’s always somewhere the

Sort of poundshop wisdom that passes for depth in

Jim Jarmusch films I meant profundity it’s probably

Tom Waits that said it, smoking

 

It’s not a cookie it’s been painted, hah

Says Albert, 4, nude from the waist down, and that’s what passes for profundity

In the world of locked-down four year olds

And who is anyone to say which is the wiser?

I’ve stopped trying to compare, to be

Honest with you at this point I’m mostly

Trying to hit the word-count.

That’ll do, I imagine,

I have

Low standards when nobody’s watching. Shuffling roughly

Off the poetry training pitch in baggy trackies, letting my gut out

(there’s plenty of it)

Sloping off for a fag and a pint before

Puffing my cheeks out

And saying yeah, tough day today

Worked hard, gave 110%

The best part is nobody knows what I’m doing

And nobody reads it anyway, so it doesn’t

Really

Count, does it?

The middle podium

 

The gradual whittling away of advisers

The middle podium

is the power podium

We don’t need graphs any more

We don’t need facts any more

At this point, it’s moot whether we need voters any more

In a sense it’s refreshing

The obvious lack

Of need to for truth

At least you know where

You stand, if you’re lucky

 

Why is this lying liar

Lying to me?

Facts are inconvenient, though,

and the signalling

Of advisers is too much

To keep a straight face

So they have to go.

 

Anyway, cheer up

If I could lie like this

With an adviser stood by me

I’d rule the world

So maybe there’s hope for you all yet

Communist breakfast 

 

You can stuff your lefty breakfasts

Your eggs benedict

Your smashed avocado

Get over it, avocado, you lost

 

We fought our war for the chance to eat  bacon

Now no one can tell us to stop

Black pudding and a fried slice

This is what control tastes like

 

Not this communist breakfast

This roast heritage tomato

This poor imitation

We fought our war

For glorious sausages

The sausages of old England

Full of promise and pig

We took back

Controlof our sausages

We fought our war

Whilst veterans died

Fow the chance to eat

Cheap breakfasts in Spoons

And you

You will not deny us or breakfast

Death to yoghurt

And death to advice

We’ll take no advbice

On our breakfast

Nno words to the wise

About hash browns

Or sly digs about beans

You can keep your elitist

Granola

Hens invented eggs

And the British invented frying them

In good British oil

On good British pans

And now as our good British veins

Slowly contract

We die happy

The taste of freedom on our lips.