This line comes
before this line
and this one after that
sometimes I’ll leave
a gap between
oh heavens!
fancy that!
Some lines I write
go backwards
fit them make to just
and some should
be read quietly
so not to make a fuss
Some lines
I fold quite forcibly
the words within
I bend
and some like
this one following
just belong at the end.
I’m in the pink when I feel blue
so much I’m up when down
with nostalgic eyes I look ahead
and when I smile I frown
I think too much but not at all
on how high I am when low
I could tell you more without a word
but my time has come to go
saluting magpies
as when all is said and done
who needs the sorrow?
What good are statues?
stone sentinals among us
dead eyes blind to all
like a french film star
lit in shadows of the dawn
her sighs greet the day
One two three, one two three
my leg hands are killing me
as they both spin round and round
faster and faster
like an helicopter
any quicker and I’ll leave the ground
if only our prophets were fluffy
if only our prophets had paws
if only our prophets were cuddly toys
we might have a world without wars
I went to buy a biscuit tin
but nothing could be found
there’s someone in my basement
who’s spinning round and round
My harmonica is marzipan
and tastes like cyanide
I tried to build a model aeroplane
and glue myself inside
Outside there is a naughty duck
who is singing rugby songs
and I realised this little verse
is now twelve lines too long.
A dean of music came here
from Hong Kong
twas his intent to play a little song
he was accosted for his banjo on the train
so I doubt that he’ll come back to us again.
Scar my heart forever
with the razor wings
of countless butterflies
that are born within me
as your eyes meet mine
