I walk on turtles through the night



I walk on turtles through the night,

Through pea-green waters, faded light.

They raise their weary heads and glint

Or chuckle, rumbling turtle thinks

And gingerly I balance on

My barefoot feet

Grown tough through ages long,

And twisty turtle routes and roads

And flying fish and croaking toads.

Til salty, I begin to pickle,

The turtle tongues are slick and tickle

Leather feet and gnarly toes

And ballet-balance aching bones.

“You’ve been this way before”

They mutter

“Here she is, the same old nutter,”

Then shouty-crazed like aged drunks

They argue long about my feet

And whether really we did meet


Debate my now diminished bulk,

With some victorious, others sulk

And swear that someone other trudged

Their road of

Flying fish and croaking toads.

I pause one turtle to each foot,

Look back along the route I took,

The moment’s indecision dies

I carry on against the tides.

Behind me turtles croon and sing

some David Bowie, then some Sting.


Peas please me

Peas please me.
Never forget pea.
It’s all about pea.
Let it pea.
It wasn’t meant to pea.
I need a pea.
Be the best that you can pea.
What you think you pea is only
What you want to pea.
Eat, drink and pea merry,
For tomorrow we die,
And/or get put in a pie.

Badger soup and pea surprise

Normalise, normalise
Standard issue, standard size
Normalise, normalise
Not too stupid, not too wise
Rationalise, rationalise
Badger soup and pea surprise
Rationalise, rationalise
Look a pilchard in the eye
Categorise, categorise
Bake your blazer in a pie
Categorise, categorise
Take some words and make them sky
Float them kitewards, make them high.

The slugs are evolving

It may be my mind is full of fug
But I maintain it was a slug.
It’s clear you see that they’re evolving,
I saw one tackling a revolving
Door, you know quite skilfully,
Their mastery is plain to see.
And then it rocked up to reception
(Well that at least was my perception).
And if one clearly managed that
It’s not unlikely they attacked
My pint glass, filled to brim with beer,
And quaffed it down and gave a cheer
Of triumph as they chortled out
The garden gate, without a doubt.
Raising empty glass aloft,
Pausing momentarily to scoff
My strawberries, so warm and moist
Their sluggish hearts must have rejoiced.
Then made straight for the horse and crown
And later headed into town.

Sieve soberly not overly

Instead of polishing Polish paunches,
Complain about Irksome polyester cauliflowers,
(If one should arrive
On your threshold)
To anyone who will listen.
Complete a Dungaree degree.
Fold envelopes merrily
Into quarters
And then slowly unfold them.
Watch a vexatious beaver
Endure a slight fever.
Track changes to pea policy
(Highlight all words beginning with p
In green).
Eat soup through an elaborate straw
While staring at a green door
You have seen before.
Your reprobate budgerigar and warm it
Gently by the smoking embers of the fire
In winter
And autumn
(Weather permitting).
Avoid arctic knitting
At all costs
(That way madness lies).
Wear sieves on all three feet
And beat a syncopative rhythm
As you walk.
Don’t talk
Overly much about prolific beards
And such.
It is not necessary
To read anything by Milton
And by extension
Milton Keynes
Is best avoided on
Alternate Tuesdays in spring.
Purée, unhinged, every day,
And say haberdashery
And pinnacle
In the same sentence
As often as you
Can get away with
Without raising an
Never wonder how
You came to this,
But sieve away the day
(sieve soberly, not overly)
And play dominos
With passing Mormon Norman doormen
(assure them of your
Honourable intentions)
And give the dimensions of your
Greenhouse when asked brusquely for
Your date of birth or
Shoe size.
Above all, remember
The walrus rarely lies,
Unless usurped,
And is therefore a better source
Of advice than
The throw of a dice,
Or idling your days away talking to mice.

Lawrence Agrippa, a mole, is lured to his death by Poodle Rocking being played on a banjo.

A sinister mole called Lawrence Agrippa

Was rather partial to a pea and spam fritter.

He would munch all alone in his underground hole,

A contemplative greedy soul,

Whose heart was lead.

His greatest dread

Was hungry rumblings or throbbing head,

Until he heard a distant twangling

That set his heart and heckles jangling;

Banjos playing sounds so sweet

They swept him off his little feet

And sent him rocking, poodle-like,

Towards the sounds and poky spikes

And speared him.  Skewered once for all

(he hardly felt a thing at all)

And then poor Lawrence Neil Agrippa

Was made into a pair of slippers.

Diazepam jam is good with spam

Diazepam jam is good with spam,

Ritalin, peas and marzipan.

A fistful of citalopram

Is bracing, with some eggs and ham.

Sudden loss of vision fritters,

HALLUCINOGENIC  critter jitters.

A pick me up,


You’d better believe it seizure


Blackout shout-out CONTINUATION OF DOUBT,

Zoplicone stuffed whole baked trout

With almonds, flaked and


THE SHAKES and crazier glazier

Told me once to murmur

About the Berber


(I may be growing fat)

And far away the jars are calling,

Peas are still and ladles falling


Beat a morse code warning