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.


The prune and the pea

A prune lay shrivelled all alone,
Full of juice she picked the phone
(a phone box, dingy, dull yet dry
Beneath the dreary Bexhill sky).
She dialled the number, plain to see,
She tried to reach her call, the pea.
She wittered on and whatted so,
Her thoughts flew fast, her life was slow.
The pea responded, thoughtless quick.
His voice was honey, oil slick.
The prune grew drier day by day,
pea couldn’t hear a word she said.
The moral of this story is:
Fruit and vegetables just don’t mix.

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 Pea Man

The pea man works in a tucked away nook,

Where no-one goes and no-one looks.

If you get too close his breath is peaty,

He is, to be honest, rather creepy.

Those that have seen him think he’s a vision,

If they ever speak out they are met with derision.

His pupils are green and his eyelashes grassy,

If you try to make small talk he gets a bit arsey.

He never wears blue as it clashs with his hair,

I think he is probably not quite all there.

He rolls through time making plans and plots,

I think he’s there but he says I’m not.


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


Ernestina (vacuum cleaner) and the maverick woodlouse


Dadabot cosy, Dadabot free.

Dadabot inside his green glass pea.

Dadabot neither hot nor cold,

Dadabot slowly growing old,

Dadabot feeling nothing much,

Dadabot seeing green and such.

Dadabot remembers a beautiful girl,

Who made his heart spin and his circuits whir.

Dadabot wills her to re-appear,

Ernestina draws slowly near.

But her lustre has gone and her trajectory is clattery,

She’s stuffed with dust and dead (like a used up battery).

Ernestina has clearly been around,

Rumours of her depravity abound around the town.

Her bag is full of unspeakable dust,

And she bulges in places, and reeks of rust.

Ernestina’s colours are dull and faded,

She’s rickety and slow and her suction is jaded.

Dadabot sees and Dadabot hears,

Ernestina now is the Ernestina of the years,

And a maverick woodlouse creeps out from the bag,

As her eyes are filled with longing and her shoulders sag

To see dadabot has holed himself up in a pea,

And all too plainly, it was never meant to be.