Month: January 2016

Close Encounters

The aliens are coming
they’re green with funny heads
they’re dropping round
to eat some cakes
and sleep under your beds
Those little dusty bunnies
your mattress hides from view
aren’t anything of
this island earth
they’re really ET’s pooh.

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Monkey Pants

I dreamt there was a monkey in my trousers
it’s okay I wasn’t in them at the time
he kept them up with braces made of ribbon
well he did for the purpose of this rhyme
He asked me if I had a ripe banana
then proceeded to take up an angry stance
as all I had to hand were tins of peaches
and he didn’t want to put them in my pants
The pockets were already filled with peanuts
and of course the regulation bits of string
and if he tried to put a tin of peaches in there too
he’d have no room left and the pants would cling.

Snippin’

My first haircut
was performed by
Mr. Longshaw,
Percy, I think
a pal of my grandfather.
He wore a long
white coat
like a boffin
a tonsorial ‘Q’
with Brylcreem
traces on his sleeve
the aroma of his
pipesmoke
floating in grey clouds
above the foggy Woodbine’s
own
burning in the stolen
metal pub ashtrays
next to the bench
on which punter after punter
sat impatiently
sighing into his pocket watch
a rolled up Daily Mirror or somesuch
by his side.

His own mirror taped
with old sepia
photographs
of Tivoli matinee idols
long gone
perhaps examples
of his expertise.

I can’t be certain
what with
my innocence still intact
but I feel he did
a roaring Friday trade
in industrial strength latex products
“something for the weekend, sir?”
just a cryptic puzzle
to me then,
a bowl upon my head
and clippers clapping
above my ears
drowning out the
embarrassed affirmations.

Today my hair was styled by a young man wearing a t-shirt with a naked lady printed on it.