FLYING LOTTO
Airline pilot
dreams of winning the lotto as he reads “Yachting News”,
Cruises with
the autopilot on. Aerobatic pilot thinks of post lotto life—
if I want to
fly a 737 I’ll buy one. A 747? 14 hours in the air?
I don’t think
so! My flight—seven minutes of aerobatic flight.
In a one
kilometre box, puzzle in the sky picture perfect.
Don’t need no
airline heavy metal here!
CLEAN ME
Hey cleaning
lady, you look fuckable with your brush handle.
Leave your
black bags alone, come to me, I’ll make you cum.
You should be
with Essex Wideboyz next door, not here
Shifting shit.
Am I a better lover than Aston Martin driving
Essex Wideboy?
I’m from the north, got the gob there but I
Don’t speak
like you. I’ll look after you, be my slave till I
Die and go to
kinky land!
REB TREE
Rebel tree,
not going to cut me down no way!
I’m head above
you all, you lost your flowers
to the snail
clippers.
Evil council
men butchered you all but you.
Tell me brave
one, how did you survive the strimmer?
Rotating
triple tungsten blade. No answer but miracle
of mother nature.
What’s your plan, single top flower?
World
domination by your pollen, no GM crop crap here.
Tell the
people of strimmer beating flower,
nothing going
to stop you now.
Not the
council or man with a dog pissing on your brethren.
FUCK UP FAIRY
What an
amazing site I behold –
Confederate
and Damnyankee armies locked in battle,
Pittsburgh
burns and war visits everyone.
Ruined houses,
burning tanks, screaming airplanes, bursting bombs.
A hand waves
in death as a tank moves forward,
bloodily glued
to the tracks. Cannons roar
and men in
butternut defend each and every house in morbid violence.
Grey men
advance and fall back under fire,
Asskicker dive
bombers clawing away their numbers.
Soon this
attack is over, men re-group,
injured are
tended, dead left immobile.
Ammunition is
brought to the front,
each side
prepares for battle again.
Who will win?
Yankee or Confederate,
the fuck up
fairy rolls her dice
once more in
America’s second civil war.
RANCID
I could say I
hate you all, that I want you all smoked by 50 nukes –
hundred
million dead. That we must all learn the harshest of lessons,
to all lose a
relative in limited nukes go pop. I know we’ll fail.
One option,
huge meteor from the dark reaches of space.
Final total
fucking obliteration, annihilation, elimination,
extermination,
devastation, destruction of us, rancid humankind.
SKYFALL
Big massive
piling machine hammers thumps huge steel
iron girders
into evil rancid ground. Tree spiralling behemoth rams
dead tree
stumps into bare earth to hold up falling cracked sky.
Without them
we’d be crushed dead. Empty heavy sky forces on me, us.
HEADY
Dizzy heady
rush leaves me gagging for more—
this’s
something new.
Deepest
memories and then some.
We’re up at
your place, years fall away, dizzyingly.
Now I can’t
think what we said. Do we do it? We leave.
Your gal’s
here, I can’t talk to you with her here.
I want her to
join us, not to fuck, day out.
Heady rush. I
speak. Betray her. Effects. She shudders,
stops, talks
in Welsh. I did it. Leaves Eyes, leaves us.
It will be
okay won’t it? I don’t care! We go. Walk on,
see view which
took my breath away all those years ago.
Different, yet
real. Walk down steps, trees overhead.
Arms
interlinked, you and her, me and you? Go down.
Halfway down I
see yellow long grass like nowhere else on earth.
It’s chilly
but humid, what the fuck? To the road, touch of snow.
Past pubs and
houses. Dream image moves, in the car
I’m driving so
fast, not lost my edge? Fast, down Rippy road, too closed?
Got your
phone, is that a camera? Mum used to have a Cortina GT like it.
It’s too fast,
will we hit white van, get my pie, die?
I’m going to
cut up my licence. Where we going?
I’m not
thinking straight, heady memories tug at me all at once.
Got real
enemies to watch. Yet we have fun.
I’m back at
Moorside. I used to live here…
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