TUESDAY POPS

GIVE IT A NAME
(FULL ENGLISH MESSFAST)

my raggedy meat posey
is
a
weep from a wound
i
picked
at
in the cough and surprise
of
first
rising

~

am i pan with angst
dancing like a dad
in dawns hard hinterland
wearing
wife
hemmed
pale 
jeans ?

or a field casualty
half fried like burger van bacon
and
clabby
in
the
clubbing
comedown ?

~

give it a name for me

i will write it 

on
all
my
shirts
washing labels

in supermarket sharpie

like in little school



YOU CAN TELL THE DEVILS TRYING

but
it
all
feels
like
a 
half-arsed nightmare
among
the
custard cream crumbs
doesnt it ?

peanut dust
in my belly button
again
when the wifis out

and thats ok

its those slices
of overlit hd awareness

sharp as knives

that
tear
open
my
lomographic holga mind
into
a
pocket
apcalypse

you can tell the devils trying
but we are british

all
chips
baked beans
sorries

and a strange malleable birthright

with ketchup on

from telegraph.co.uk