the poem unabridged – part three: giletdonism

stanza 13 – january

thu 1 – reus brexitus

brexitus rex, a fencepost;
no entry for french blokes
yes hello we are here
it is act two of don quixote
or quixote like quick’s oat
(though i prefer key oh tick,
like chaotic)
in which we ask,
will the windmills we recall
from the first act charge back?
in which we find,
that windmills
don’t charge on poets

sat 3 – reverse engineering

every poem, novel, recipe
and joke
exists quiet in the ether
the poet doesn’t create
she discovers;
with a notebook she uncovers.
a subterranean homesick miner,
reverse engineering the blueprints
of a universal designer

tue 6 – the yaktrax

a pointless punishment
for my eczemic fingers
janurian resolvers avoid
pavements rinkish
speak to the sun, the sky,
the sea and the trees
mass palomas fly,
sneeze around disease
rife and virulent,
bring us to our knees
re-shorn past the
pine scent xmas ceme-tery(eee)

thu 8 – in my head

a rolled up blanket
for a headrest buttress
i report
every door i open
i say “this is where the magic happens”
in my head
and laugh
in my head

sat 10 – obligation

as a child the buildings
and roads scared me
in their scale
the work of a million lifetimes,
where did they come from?
and what was my obligation?
all my life i’ve suffered
discrimination
just because i’m shy and lazy.
and inattentive
imperceptive, defensive
and stand offish
and prone to mischief.

tue 13 – obligation ii

today i made
a lovely little loaf.
am i a valid toiler?
instead of,
or as well as,
a poetry mine despoiler?
have i met my
productivity minimum
am i entitled to a break yet?
i posit that if workers suffer
ceos should go to jail
follow the money to personal wealth
pierce the corporate veil

thu 15 – time, again

we feel like time is all we have
when we are under its spell.
but we could abolish it
now,
not tomorrow,
neither yesterday,
in the universal now.
clocks and calendars
are metaphors for our
warped perception of a dimension
that we can not comprehend.

sat 17 – roll, again

we roll again
through cold thick cream
a runner for four seasons
i believe in
the beauty and
the romance of numbers
fact patterns:
four ones, nine nine nine,
four eights
i can’t help but add
together spectral sums

tue 20 – waiting

i wait on a call
and fret on making a call,
feeling powerless, unable
and this is what i mean
when i say i’m strong and stable
wrap up warm for the gilet years
lasagna al forno and an afternoon of beers
it’s like 10 thousand spoons
when all you need is the bus fare to partick
ah well, we’ll get there in the end

thu 22 – echolalia

echolalian
echo-location
finds me where?
a lack e acumen;
black pepper and cumin
or is it turmeric?
i use all three for safety and
dod on and dod well,
two is too many bills
moving like a statue,
a foot-soldier,
mystified and amused
das kapital
to cap it all
ex marx the blues

sat 24 – archival sleeves

i take a bridge to the opaque sky,
cranes peak above the mist
sanity is no identity
likely to inspire me.
the storm comes,
a lockdown redux
trapped and claustrophobic.
pulling up archival sleeves
although i’m not
the most thoughtful typist
stoic, waiting,
on the fundamental
life changing news
a decade to the day,
again it goes my way
ah friend anxiety,
my quitting finger itches
tomorrow’s loaf will be a belter,
yesterday’s a chinese whisper

tue 27 – this was a spinal tap

they are taking the piss
a hospital day in boring pain
on my way to the spinal tap
they paywalled tour de france
doffed and donned by a duo
of up-duffed doctors
two days in the hospital
and i’m walking like a train wreck survivor
it was only my neck that hurt yesterday
a new diagnosis,
coital migraines…
i’m done with western medicine, man.
and that was how i met fah.

thu 29 – all the king’s memes

i despair we are so selfish
in such a self defeating way
meritocracy is not
a real-world thing
it’s a pump and dump town
and there’s a new mayor in clown
so double down
to top trump
they say
all the king’s horses
and all the king’s memes
couldn’t repair humpty’s
defective genes
he pulls fascist faces
and pardons racists
we can only prey
for a ceasefire that sticks

sat 31 – haw yuppie

i shout haw yuppie at a prefect
on a flip phone
citizenship is over,
we are now brand ambassadors
sold off forever,
forever strong and stable
wrap up warm for the gilet years
lasagna al forno and an afternoon of beers
it’s like 10 thousand spoons
when all you need is the bus fare to partick
ah well, we’ll get there in the end

stanza 14 – february

tue 3 – why i support scottish independence but only if i get to be in charge

i long to modernise scotland
to the revue of my imagination
to restrict actors to a single role
depiction in our nation
and making them legally change their name
to the one they portray in fiction
punishable by death
and claiming global jurisdiction
then i will reduce the toothbrushing time
from two minutes to 90 seconds
and thus sanction my cohort
to luxuriate over breakfast
then i will retire to
the camper-van i’ll embezzle
proud of my augmentation of
our cultural endeavour

thu 5 – lanzarote i.

exhausted by the tyranny of choice,
unable to sleep
four alarmed hours,
panic
then mile-high boredom.
bad pizza is still kinda good,
parched stroll less soo
cacti burrito,
a visage
of the village
in the mirage…
reinforcements parachuting in
petulant torrents of surf,
energía de la patata grande
pumice piss,
curtain of cliffs
and scattered sand
past the chain-gang (squared)
by fag ash straits
of jagged lava,
literal poetry in motion

sun 8 – lanzarote ii.

el grifo abandonado,
aquapark de los muertos
pizza tres quesos,
no blue,
snide salad.
poolside morning yoga
and think about the future
fall asleep in my clothes
fresh from the waffle shop boys
sick in the toilet at midnight
maybe thanks
to the waffle shop boys

tue 10 – lanzarote iii.

lizard pulse pathos
and egrets on the gravel cut
fling a ring around the thing
regret declined burrata
fact checked on carbon i rediscover
archaeomagnetic dating,
did you know the poles
will switch
and north will
become south.
prohibito biciclette
celestial waves
lapping rusty mounds
baps boobing
a breasty boundary
round emphysema
cowboy country

thu 12 – lanzarote iv.

fly a magic carpet ride
on the greenback camel trail
and bury my radar
deep at wounded knee
boquerones on the lounger,
bocadillo by the sea
agree to be fleeced
for an airport charter
nintendo cheesecake
or deep fried mars bar
waitress seems genuinely surprised
by everything we say
or order
last day jog 12k
no joint issues
hoppipolla yoga

sat 14 – obligation iii.

overwhelmed by the burden
of reciprocal generosity
a pang, an anxious smell,
the sense of what childhood felt like
tiramisu, creamy goo,
live laugh love
like death from above
trigger habit, sunny meditation,
why did i feel
so undeserving of love
get a kingfisher peacenik
from a funky beatnik
a bus comes to pilot us back
fifty times bigger than we needed

tue 17 – lucy let go

a pigeon who marshals
a hall of endless queues
lost laptop tizzy dash,
fined for excess baggage
bang to rights.
unlike lucy letby
who should be lucy let go
over doubts so reasonable
that incarceration
can not be condoned
there is no greater evil
than the power of the state
wielded against justice.

thu 19 – his false profits

i’ve seen a pandemic
and recessions,
i live in the aftermath
of depression
i’ve seen inequality
rise inexorably,
a corresponding decline
in provision
of the services required
for the good of all of us
so extinguish the myth
of the self made man
and his false profits

sat 21 – giletdonism, chorus iii

it was a massively morbid error
to teach a generation
that the nazis were uniquely evil.
the crime of genocide
is fundamentally human
and celebrated annually
with fireworks and feasts
strong and stable,
safe in our beliefs
let us adorn for the gilet years
whatever starts with hope
will end in tears
it’s the hint of sulphur
underneath the blend
ah well, we’ll get there in the end

tue 24 – not all poetry has to be ‘good’

i run a run of six six sixes,
the diabolic average
the paupers’ economy is for sale
if you can afford it you are rich
the father of the bride has spent the
marriage in remission
so rock your hips back and forth,
and first and fourth and fifth
and back to tonic
ending on it
ending right
here

thu 26 – unpacking

why am i in silence
when endless distraction
is afforded by science
my inbox emptied
to autistic dividers
i’m back from the volcano
to the shock of cold
a daze unwinding
spring clean my soul
order proves cathartic
i ponder again,
why do we say you
when we so clearly mean me?
a universal you
which you is who
when we discuss
ourselves

sat 28 – brexitry in the uk (inc. chorus iv.)

i’m an analyrical
political animal,
fresh from facing off
a foreigner at the botanicals
i’ve reached the top, surprised
although i did start in the
middle (class) i realise
oh well, no pulling back
teetering on the brink
of my cul de sac
maybe i’ll hoist
a union jack
yeah i made my billions
by betting big
on brexit
i’m a big swellin’ bell
a beef sauce boudicca
and now it’s done and gone
my creativity diminished
naked on the stage
in the empty bar basement
shouting random swear words
for my own entertainment
they say a weird brother
is a sign of a weird family
drunk under the table,
call it strong and stable
let us adorn for the gilet years
whatever starts with hope
will end in tears
it’s the hint of sulphur
underneath the blend
ah well, we’ll get there in the end

stanza 15 – march

tue 3 – n.n. the sailor man

you worked so hard for that,
you said when i ended.
that’s all i want from life —
my struggle commended
a delicate elbow
cannot be diminished
i’m just like pop-eye
but i don’t eats me spinach

thu 5 – hello goose my pope is dying

it’s world war three
and the pope’s half deed
leave a breath in the air
by the muddy rinsed geese
we share the animal
experiences:
hunger, etc.,
fear and sleep
so, umwelt notwithstanding,
i feel you deep

sat 7 – paris

a hot time
in the lukewarm
hot tub
in the paris finca
dirt ship
down, max
imum
zen on the seine
you read your
local,
bell jar
let me light your plath
take me
to the
bistro
i love and missed you
nap to
moon sa
fari
slurp some snails at paul’s
to an
extent
we are
all, somewhat, a
hyster
ical
baby
in a pram being pushed down a paris boulevard

tue 10 – leaving paris

into traffic:
glacial jam
leaving
the doorknob poles behind
leaving
a trail of lime green snot

thu 12 – the echo boom

the tyranny of timidity
blocked up in the aisle
tiny teenager in
a bad seeds tee
it comes round in loops
the echo boom
so hear my sole
soliloquy
my chance to have
my soul put free
just some cunt
from the internet team
a macbook on finance
and a dream i forgot
and can’t remember

sat 14 – hot snot

lobster myself in the bath
remembering mark speight
cornfed tariff chicken
chicane con carnie
woke to find my head
sealed shut with snot and gunk
a dank lurgy palisade
that stymies my endeavour

tue 17 – grease this time

get a guestie
on the govanhill greasefire
episode ensemble
bonus glorious
morning trail
and more guest stars

thu 19 – we will be the trees

o naked forest nation
dressed for lamb,
for mutton razed
the trees will come back
(and we will be the trees)
i take a ride to salubrity,
see the mountains and the sea
strong on the pedals
stable on the wheels
insecure and antisocial
that is my appeal
hold on tight for the gilet years
keep it strong and stable
on two round wheels
unique to the animal kingdom
is the migratory mamil
i guess we’ll know when,
if we get there in the end

sat 21 – the futile push

i decry the wasted effort
of nationalism
if you look for
a thing that isn’t there
finding it
will take forever
but we keep looking
for sovereignty
as if it could keep us warm
or fill our bellies
when we have for long
lived in an age of empires
we bear the fasces epochal
as the colonial ceasefire breaches
yet more racist murders
sanctioned.
victory is hollow.
temporary.
achievement too
the only thing
is the process
of making
of caring
of loving

tue 24 – ecolalia ii

my bug self-deports,
i’m dysregulated.
boiler for a bargain
lost momentarily
in the glimmer
and the shimmer
of the oceanic brine.
two birthdays,
buy cake for,
champagne do,
draft evader
put the wind up
the wind-up merchants
of demonic
unfair fun fair
input french fries
till vlad the putin dies
output poutine,
put out bridge
under lilac sky
get catatonic
on the hydroponic,
windy out west
with the wheelers

thu 26 – ecolalia iii

back is the pope,
undead
and me for plugs
i already had
my curly wurlies
turned to crunchie wunchies,
hocus pocus
popery, perhaps
i sit at my piano
mild in disbelief
as my fingers
gain unexpected
competence
and i wonder
who will win
when the purple
people-eaters
fight the purple-people
eaters?
down the manhole
there may be
a meat flower stramash
quiz the life autistic
with loafer luke
and the gang

sat 28 – echolalia of the unexpected

slight return,
wardrobe.
oil extraction,
floor drop
plucked pleasure
tucked, verbal
hangover synching
chew fat with the inmates

tue 31 – spring politic

the spring statement
brings further debasement
le pen
is not mightier
than the gavel bashed down
strong, stable,
a racist thieving clown
hold on tight for the gilet years
keep it strong and stable
on two round wheels
unique to the animal kingdom
is the migratory mamil
i guess we’ll know when,
if we get there in the end

stanza 16 – april – introducing: a stupid idiot

thu 2 – introducing (a stupid idiot)

i’m n.n. benn
that’s benn
with two n’s
i don’t claim
to be an artist.
multidisciplinary
autistic typist
is what it says
on my passport
though sadly
i’ve been convicted
and sentenced
to hard poetry,
for infinite years
in both practice
and theory

sat 4 – justice ii

justice delayed is
justice frustrated
so hasten the dawn
of infinite redress
the tariff is high,
the dumb face
with its smile
dollar diving
to market turmoil

tue 7 – life under actually existing capitalism i

struggle along
an interminable corridor fight
we learned admin
marketing and talking shite
from skiving
at work and procrastination
and apply the techniques
to our recreation.
this is the end of the age
of the individual
brand ambassadorial
for the life metaphysical

thu 9 – very grammable

from the whangie we frolic
gleeful down the hill
passions may contract
but others will swell
glow up and gentrify
come good in quick time
blow up my mentions
like and subscribe

sat 11 – sports food

as a broken limb
altered my spin
i bonk by bonkhill
(they slip a shag
in every gap)
i could be ripped
i swear
aside a predilection
for chocolate and beer
it’s a bitter sweet dichotomy,
but i need treats
eat sweet gelatine,
spluttering
up the mountain
traffic jam

tue 14 – we have to stop katy perry and her gang of space villains

i should prepare
for social stress,
but foolishly
don’t push myself
so katy perry’s
in her spaceship
i’m burnt out
and need a facelift
she killed a nun,
i liked it not
oligarchic turn
make it stop

thu 16 – but i ask, what app is it on which i will find this so called authentication code, and chorus

krypton factor
authenticity
villification code
is this landing?
is this a story
that needs to be told?
chat gpt
thinks my poetry sucks
well, shucks
i was promised strong and stable

get tucked in for the gilet years
keep it strong and stable
despite hopes and fears
a pudding waits
at the end of the repast
let’s hope we get there
at last

sat 18 – various male relationships

i overheard a brother
from the proclaimers
smoking on the step
discussing the anal invader.
modern men coagulate
into half-brother run clans
garries nu and old
face-off yin and yang
they hope their hauners
will do the honours
alpha of the man gang

tue 21 – if i wasn’t called n n benn i’d have gone for red blaes

a pontiff
post-pontificating
has a point if hope remains
but dust will
surely settle
on his line in the blaes
departure
led suggestion
ask always ‘what is right?’
rather than
the usual
‘what did we do last time?’

thu 23 – alanis said it first so it’s ok

i go to bed early
i wake up late
french kissing won’t be tolerated
on this date
a collegiate day
leaves me rough
in my navel
looking for fluff
two roles away
on down the hill
wine and dine
(and sixty nine)
on a jagged little pill

sat 25 – my pre-millennial childhood

o index finger
like a long toe
my pinky also
unusually small
little wonder
my handwriting’s unclear.
correction fluid
another go, please
i subtract seven letters
and get left with rect o fud
register my domain
with the nineties web dial up
to bravenet guestbooks
and fansites and bandsites
try and capitalise
on the dot com boom
all you need is a brand
profits will come soon
the scars of hubris
are borne by us
inferior designers
and i wear them fine

tue 28 – ecolalia iv

a trio, sub-mantric
cerulean bohemian
utilitarian
sub deeper, throwaway
discount viscount
shagatha christie
sing along, sing aloud,
twirl in the street right now
a human positioning system
a global grid
of great big bricks
reggie regular
or reggae reggae
i’ve somehow
run out of chilli powder

thu 30 – chorus 4 (the fourth chorus of the love epochal part 3: giletdonism)

see the month out
with a crow loop,
swelter on the juliet
manifest strength
and stability
unemployed and full e it

get tucked in for the gilet years
keep it strong and stable
despite hopes and fears
a pudding waits
at the end of the repast
let’s hope we get there
at last

stanza 17 – may – under his eye

sat 2 – under his eye i

since the pope died,
i’ve had religion on my mind
child protection and its opposite,
no child’s left behind
i endured the kirk
and a ton of bunk
in the mid nineties
on a coach trip
to innsbruck
some older kids and me
i only joined the club to play football.
how did i end up here?

tue 5 – under his eye ii

crying to my mother
in the phone booth
an undiagnosed autistic
immature youth
unable to verbalise,
understand, explain
the abhorrent situation
i was in…
i had no way to pray
for succour
no deus ex machina
from the kirk

thu 7 – under his eye iii

then i was home for the
first year of high school
alienated, scared,
quietly unusual
with no idea
what was wrong with me
needing people,
passions and a method of being
a year later,
on a coach to france,
i met k and c
and then p and s and g
(most of whom i fell in love with,
one of whom i am still in touch with)
who accepted me
when i rang their doorbells
every day

sat 9 – under his eye iv

so, pope bob the communist,
riddle me this
if all of life
is formed of carbon,
ejected from the factory chimney
which i understand it is
are the two poles
of the toothbrush moustache,
mirth and antimirth?
matter and antimatter
genocide and love
and why does the church
always make things worse?

tue 12 – raze justice

arbitrary justice
is not justice
power exercised without
reason tends to evil
nobody talks about
harvey weinstein anymore
or the panama papers
we need new ideas
not new scandals daily
razed to the ground
confused me
for so many years,
until i saw it written down
it feels cruelly ironic
beneath war’s fog

thu 14 – agent trump i

frigid lager
on the balcony,
the sun is blaring
and when
i’m deckchairing
i feel i could lean out
and shout
to my neighbours
in baghdad
havana, chicago,
moscow, haw vlad
agent trump is dreamin’
of escape from alcatraz

sat 16 – a short poem about a short cycling holiday in argyll

a hot heat,
awestruck, fading
but you won’t get rid of me
a lizard in argyll,
a long goodbye,
hyper-palatability
confused saint mungo,
road chicken strut
and tut. and tut.
sent the pint back
and got a new one
just the same

there’s the road ahead
and the music in my ears
an idea in my head
called the gilet years
it’s the beep of the derailleur
greeting the last cog
march on, forward, onwards,
towards our epilogue

tue 19 – the heel of the boot i

couldn’t eat
the dinner she made me,
enzymes fail me
she forgets her passport!
in the air,
hunger avails me
credit card stand off
at the hire-car shop,
assistance is futile
trees like gobbled snails,
a white wine week of vees while
i unthread the pedal
and am not trusted
by the bike hire goon
tricasse porto, pizza, costal
flustered
mostly on wheels…

thu 21 – the heel of the boot ii

the roman tricolore
basil, tomato and cheese
and the teal from the sky
to the seas
post ride,
ride the tide to ankle deep
eat the weans’ white ices
except
oor wan wean’s
nae teethen’ yet
a semi colon;
then we slept

sat 23 – the heel of the boot iii

morning lag,
saddle bag snag
locked up rear
momentary fear
east is beast
west for rest
the church by the wine bar
they ring the bells
to summon up
the ghosts from hell
until they have
a quorum
to discuss matters
ecclesial
in their
worthy forum
there was
anarchic popelessness,
the vatican
was hopeless with
erratic sin
and soulless stress
you understand
the mess we’re in!

tue 26 – the heel of the boot iv

toggle be,
the jazziest beaver
i am untartened,
a border reiver
amaro montenegro,
an iron brew
why am i feart
of mosquitos
i’ve already been
bit like 40 goes
got one back
like cracking
human blood goo
from a winged black egg

thu 28 – the heel of the boot v

she drives
so i can faff
do you know
you hoove
with a hoover
and you put
loash on
overtake a wobbler
driver’s drinking a beer
with the phone to his ear
a green flash
from the monoxide meter
and an electric shock
from the wall socket
another laptop tizzy dash
stranded at the front
while the crew all pee
with the woman
from yesterday’s cafe
then reunited in aisle six
iron oxide
on duck egg gasometer
queues likely
on the way into town
best do some health
whole meal dinner
with broccoli prizes
should have had a taco,
chickened out

sat 30 – ecolalia v + chorus

cross loss harvey gen
brung ecolalia home
from work again
a day of laundry,
chores.
scrub scrub
this our funereality,
a jumped up
anxious principality
scrub harder
peasant
yes, m’lord
much and many
scrubbings, sire

memento mori
never hits as hard
as a diagnosis
forever strong and stable,
and taking it on our noses

there’s the road ahead
and the music in my ears
a dream in my head
called the gilet years
it’s the beep of the derailleur
greeting the last cog
march on, forward, onwards,
towards our epilogue

stanza 18 – june

tue 2 – the last antipasti i

broccoli can’t be a prize,
everyone says,
or would say
if inquired of.
but my stem’s tender
as a lover’s thighs,
crunchy with salt,
drenched in rendered
fat, yum
pair me with focaccia
and dipstick me
in extra virgin
verging on
extravagant…
a celebrity
of humble bent

thu 4 – the last antipasti ii

mind the time
you over-ordered carbohydrates
a panicked salad reprobate
arancini, croquettes and chips,
you had a need that i could sate
pumped with protein
and polyphenols
light and taut
and a little bit special

sat 6 – the last antipasti iii

trust me,
flake almonds upon me,
indulge in fulgent greens
i confound your troubles
with salubrious sheen
there is no knowledge
but sensation
so slide on in
to my dm’s
the merlot refill
unexpectedly chilled,
effervescent on your tongue
makes you cry yum, yum

confidence is recklessness
incarnate
so crunch my fibrous branches
so delicate
are you here for sublime?
or did you get lost looking for
the beige light district?
over by the camp
but closeted quarter?
oh yeah have another breadstick,
fill up on brie
i know you’ll be back for me

tue 9 – the last antipasti iv

perhaps i can attract
one of your more
stylish companions
i grew in the alluvial
soils of campania,
learned english from hollywood movies,
reared on volcanic aqua minerale
and the sun’s patterns
you, with the specs,
you don’t wanna eat yet?
i can feel i’m cold.
was it yesterday? really yesterday?
bathing in the sunshine
when yanked,
quite jolted,
held tight in a gauntlet
flung in a crate,
i’ve been in the shade,
a day, who knows
they seared me!
and i’m here,
with the almonds,
but the plate’s cold.
all the sundried tomatoes are gone
the salami too
even the mortadella

oh, love may be king
in napoli
but fortune favours
broccoli
yes someone will
come back for me

thu 11 – the last antipasti v

i remember
when i was young sprout
thinking that if i was the first human
it would never have occurred to me
to eat food
or make love
that was an absurd thought
for a cruciferous vegetable, i know
but come on and eat me,
end this limbo
let me go
my whole life
flashes before my florets
i’m sliding off the plate
into the wastebasket
into the bin
a cardinal sin
and you know
i don’t see any chips in here,
you philistines.
i am a prize!
how did this happen to me?
am i weird looking,
or weird being?
you reach the top
you’re hot
and then you’re not
just one shot
then you’re compost.
it’ll happen to you too
one day.
memento mori.
i regret nothing.

sat 13 – life under actually existing capitalism ii

the problem with capitalism
it seems to me
it’s impossible to live
with dignity,
when everything
including me,
is exchangeable
for money
i bequeath my possessions
to my financial relations
the house and pension
to the administration
of the barclays banking
corporation
and the poems will
have to be
security
for lloyds tsb

that’s almost it
for the gilet years
a window of calm
between crises
it’s the unseemly quiet
amidst the tempest
when the storm is over
what will be left?

tue 16 – poetry needs to suck sometimes

i sing a duet
with my teenaged heart
love may tear
us apart
it’s hard to
believe
i’m in my 40s
and haven’t got
any better
at poetry (poe aught ree)
cry in the bath
for auld lang syne
you’ve got to believe me
that i tried this time
we always knew
it would come to this
the universe is so small
and poetry, so big

thu 18 – the butler problem

since i made my billions
i just can’t stay asleep
i bet so big on brexit
i swapped the water i used to keep
by my bedside as water
does not befit
an ego and a grift
as overbig as this
so if i wake late in the night
i demand to have
vintage champagne
from a fashionable brand
cool or tepid
just won’t cut it
only ice cold
refreshes with subtlety
yeah it’s got to be
outwardly sublime
and there is no time
to pop a cork
when one is parched
every second’s delay
is a failure in the quest
for perpetual and delicious
prime hydration
so jeeves pours fresh
on anticipation
of each occasion
popping champagne corks
all night long
so as i said
i can’t stay asleep
since i made my billions
on brexit, betting deep

sat 20 – n.b. this poem should only be read upside down in blue pencil

i’m an autistic on
the poetic spectrum
i want a microphone
but have accepted i can’t sing
there are two types
of words, it seems to me
words that rhyme with
and words that mean the same as
i’m a rabble douser
a sub-intellectual
active on the couch,
always ineffectual
in vest and briefs
and sandals and socks
trying the door knobs
testing the locks
thinking of
five minutes mary,
so called because she always
wants five minutes mair
i’m up her street
rinse and repeat
bring down the government
no bobbies on the beat

tue 23 – we don’t need fasces, just a bundle of souls

it seems to me
there must be
a shadow gang of hoodlums
in every nation
ready to put on uniforms
to torture and abuse
waiting for a bully government
to empower them
and this is such
a lonely, alienating thought.
i’m not sure you,
fascist sympathiser,
will read this poem
but it is not strong
to stand up for the powerful
strength is to accept
we are weak
alone we are at
the mercy
of forces
we can not control
we can just hope that by sheer benevolent numbers
we can crowd the villains out
each of us forever vulnerable
as a bundle, indestructible

thu 25 – the opposite of listening to madonna in decathlon

they pass the assisted
dying bill
will the lords giveth
the right to kill?
a vision: no,
you have to take it yourself
mr benn
a shock of mortality
please, call me n.n.
quite a memento mori
a lonely shiver

sat 27 – the poetry/bills conundrum

would it make me
a syndicalist to say
the way that you treat people
is the way they behave
and then it struck me.
i’m not anxious,
i’m scared.
so much of the time
scared to be at home alone
i just don’t naturally
enjoy the repetition
and uncertainty of life
i’ve spent all my time
trying to find meaning and comfort
and all that really works is
a constant diet of art,
drugs and sex and exercise
but sadly i have to earn cash
to sustain it

tue 30 – the biggest ride of the summer

take the train to lockerbie
soaked twice on the heatwave day
learn it
then you’ve earned it
always pack a gilet
sun cream
gets in your eyes
as the king meant to say
through coalburn a wheel-sucker
and deadwater and succour
climb abandonist
when i felt the thirst
as a stab in the kidneys
a painful business
don’t have a cow
abunga dude
bloody lookin’ rose
is looking good
lily pads
and other wet plants
then keith goes to a barbecue
and we just ride home in the rain
how come we don’t get burgers

the final chorus of the gilet years, which only lasted six months

that’s our lot
for the gilet years
a window of calm
between crises
it’s the unseemly quiet
amidst the tempest
when the storm is over
what will be left?

alternative ending and final chorus, making the previous final chorus the penultimate one all along

those were the gilet years
congratulations
if you’re still here
don’t have a cow
abunga dude
this is the end
until more similar tomorrow