The Kludge

Amazed at all 

those efforts cobbled


although at times

so slightly wobbled


every piece 

from here and there


eventually quite debonair

Partial misfits hand in hand


secured in place 

with rubber band


masterminded 

whiz kid theme


a knack enabled

brilliant scheme

The best that could be

done back then


in seeking scores

ten out of ten


a plan to win not ever fudge


produced this way out

super kludge

The Connoisseur

A mastermind of actual fact


proven sound and most exact

Adept without apology

Exemplar prime oenology

Palate palette perfect ear
Through any season every year

A guardian keep procrustean
From the remnants of combustion

The Toady

Beware the dulcet slithering sort
whose sneaky speak will praise contort
in camouflage this twatterbox
will oily prise your inner locks

Each turn of phrase and uttering
your eardrums slyly buttering
with velvet air this couch compose
will gloop and gunk your mild repose

Think twice, when they, your shell intrude
their flawed unseemly chat denude
stand firm resist such flattering

as nothing more that twattering

The String - In Theory

Picture Link

Togetherness accords and links


binds everything we do


for tying tight and tethering


whether lacing boot or shoe

Guitar piano violin


choral vocal chord we sing


packages more safely cased


when bundled up with string

Bottles jars objet d'arts


more delicate when laced


towing trucks and motorcars


strongly platted and well placed

It may seem elementary


this rudimentary thing


in theory nanoscopically


everything is string


Ciggies with Josie

I hear they’re wanting smoking back


allowed in pubs and clubs


to revitalise our social scenes


laid waste by smoker snubs

It seems our smoke dependants


with their ashtray and their butt


have left too many empty seats


all pubs and clubs will shut

Our venue’s once so full of fun


left despondently to sag


by demanding all the smokers


nip outside to have a fag



For crying out loud the smoker coughs

it contravenes our human right


our only pastime idle pleasure


maybe one or two each night

We don’t care that smoking kills us


everyone must surely die


We know tons of healthy puffers


who buck the trend and death defy

So leave us puff our poison pipe


amid the throngs and masses


bring atmosphere to every hall


with clouds of nicotine gasses