Monthly Archive: May 2015

Teddy’s career

Teddy wanted to be a pilot
But in planes he was sick a lot
Especially after Apple Charlotte
So he decided it was not
A good career path.

Instead he would be a crooner
Then all the koalas would swoon a
Lot and throw their bloomers
And he would get to sing a tune a
Bit like Kiri Te Kanawa.

Teddy’s flat

Teddy’ s flat was in Camberwell
Next to the tube, past the dry cleaners, very near Eel’s.
They passed each other most mornings
But Teddy did not wave
To avoid hurting Eel’s feelings.

Odysseus on the phone on Christmas Eve in the Blitz


Wax! You ears.

It’s Christmas Eve it rains tin shimmers
And oil burns the black streets blacker.
Waves of fire lap the wet sky dry
And while the V2 the doodlebug and the Heinkel play death metal toons
I hide in here strapped to my fear.

This is my sail ship against the sirens.
My red ribbed raft oars in a blitz of white surf smoke
Through sinks and shoes and Brooke Bond tips
And the dead and nearly dead that fry and lie
like frankfurters.

You, a phone, and I dial 999.
“Operator, which service do you require?”
Ambulance, fire, police and a storm
Strong enough to blow me
Past the seducing songstress birds
That curl the air’s steel hair.
Not available? Then send me a lifeboat,
A bold crew from Cornwall, a bird catcher and a net
That I may catch one and keep it in a basket
To sing later on, or wot not.


Meanwhile Duck
It sucks
Clean out of luck
In a phone box and you.

And them birds outside that sing
To my nightmare’s muse.
Best we keep talking, drown out the drowners.
“Is the call an emergency or of national importance?”

Well, I am sailing the London sea
When the sky filled and fell
Seven raven winged ladies
Who did tell
A ditty
In my shell
Like that was an itty bitty

These ladies had ginger
Locks and were sort
Of lookers.
So much I thought
I might drop my anchor
In a non naught
Ical manner
And jump overboard
For Good.

Sorry to be flip
But I need to keep
My pecker up and not sink
Down so deep
To lie
Where the starfish sleep
In a sea sand sky.
So for pity’s sake talk to me.


“Ody ody oh dear, what a pickle your in
Up to your neck in the briny and birds.
I tell you what…

You are through to Siren Sue
But in a queue
For whatever it is you want to do
You are through to Siren Sue
But in a queue
For whatever it is you want to do
You are through to Siren Sue
But in a queue
For whatever it is you want to do.

Hello Caller
I am Carol
Christmas Carol – ha ha
While waiting for Siren Sue today
Why not hang your Christmas balls
And fill my chocolate log
Stick in my big red box
With windows
And a door
Where you can get your rocks off.
Press button ‘A’ or say “take me”
If you want Carol to make your Christmas.
(she sings)
Did you say say it?
Hold tight
As you might
Get a rush on and that won’t do
My libido
Oh nooooo…goooo….
(She sings)
Now we can waffle as much as we like
Make my tinsel tonsils tingle and …
Jump in.


So here I am
Down here

It is voices
Just voices
Bodies long gone to pot.
Loads, labeled
on sand shelves fifty million high.
An hallelujah of headless speakers
Each one a pink marbled ear and a mouth
A single membrane that hears and speaks at once
Hangs like a overfed flower.
These feathered waves of words wash a shoreless world.

This is me, it turns out.
And this is where I live.
I am ok like this, not bothered
Happy to mouth like fish
Happy to listen like shells.

A bubble floats by and listen.
It’s me still
a moon drop
and my words flow.

“Once we had feet, now we can only float.
Our voices sea soaked drift to one and then another
Family, friend or unfamiliar equally happily lost.
We can cross the line,
then and now and never are all one splash.
Dreams swim by
And stories grow like weeds
One wrapped within another.
This is the soup we all sup.”