Friday, 18 November 2011

Erection (Reprise)

An erection is not embarrassing
An erection is impractical
Like when I need to micturate
I have to improvise
Off the cuff
Step back
Tilt away
Lean to the right
'Cos I hang to the left
Arch my flow
To the bowl
But mostly to the floor
From the most obtuse of angles.
And as the pee
Starts to finish
I begin
To reel it in
Edging closer
And closer
Sphincter tightens
In conjunction
Flagging the end
Of Act II.
More pee flops
To the floor
Via my foot
Tight hamstrings
Hamstring my plan
To leave the bathroom
Spic and span
But that's really a lie
'Cos I know
You'll clean it up
In the morning.


Sepp Blatter chats shit.
I know this
And so do you.
I think secretly
Even Sepp Blatter knows that
Sepp Blatter chats shit.

Sepp says:

"Football is just a game, and we're all part of the game and at the end of the game, if a nigger has been affected by racism, then he should shake his assailant's hand (or bump his fist) because it's just a game, y'knarrrmean???"

So, we've ascertained that
Sepp likes to play games.
How about this game?

I buy Sepp for an undisclosed amount of money.

I ferry Sepp back to mine for 'training'.

I fuck Sepp repeatedly up the arse with a copy of Things Fall Apart in hardback for 90 minutes plus injury time (and there will be injury time) everyday for four hundred years.

Sepp shakes my hand (or bumps my fist, I'm not fussy).

What's the matter, Sepp?
Did my sassiness upset you, Sepp?
Did my haughtiness offend you or
Did I upend you with a hard, sliding tackle from behind, Sepp?




I think Sepp's upset with me
'Cos I never told him about my awful first touch.

Thursday, 17 November 2011


When thinking of you
As a symbol of my affection
I get an erection -
Correction -
A stonking great big boner.

When I was a boy
This projection in my pants
Was embarrassing.
Red-faced, not yet red-handed
I would arrest the upstart
And uptuck it up my belt.
Like a BIG GIRL in a sports bra.
Sometimes he'd peek over the fence
Enraged by his incarceration
But othertimes he'd subside
Once tied up.

Now I am a man
This projection in my pants
Is cause for celebration
That three years in
I stand to attention
When you call me
Still I rise
Still I rise
Still I rise.

Friday, 11 November 2011

Dead Centre of London Town

It was autumn and ting
No need to set the scene
You've seen this scene before
You know?
Trees shedding skin
Rogue leaves no longer in vogue
September Issue out of fashion
The baton passing from
That season to this.

Stood at the gates
At the Dead Centre of London Town
Highgate Cemetary thought it was done
So I broke in
Scaled the wall
Unseen and wandered around
Chaperoned under full Lunar Patrol.

Through this minor act of criminality
I learnt a pertinent thing.
I learnt that No-one Ever Really Dies
Because I'm telling you that place was alive.
I heard
creaking and croaking and weightlessness.

Whilst I had the temerity to jump the wall in the first place
I'm no Billy Big Bollocks -
I'm not ashamed to admit that I was spooked.

But as I pondered, I remembered that
No-one Ever Really Dies
and that this place is alive.
So I danced with graves
the whole night through
consoled by that thought.