OFFCUT POSEY No 357

in impromptu affirmation
on the patchwork lawn
of straw & sod
& the guts of ruptured plums

i announce -

i believe in dirt
  & its weeds & leaves
    & the fingerprint bark 

      of the trees

& then i salute
an airmans salute
for the concrete cairns i built
over the graves in the clay

THE QUIET TENNIS BALL & THE DERELICT SWINGS

see how quietly
the tennis ball sits

in the fringe
of the lawn
this morning

~

a tier of sadness

arrives 

on the car park air

as you swing wide the door

& another 

washes over you

from the derelict swings

like layers of silt

home now & settling in 

REALITY PROPS

gore on the green lawn

feathers on the garden walk

haikus in red dawn

~

his face is a mountain

the night is screaming

all conversations 

are clipped like wings

~

& the emptiness of right now

is punched out 

on the quiet carpet

of a weekday morning fume

IN THE SKYS GREAT BOWL

the cats rolling onto his back
legs hanging / eyes watching

showing the trap of claws & teeth

baited by thick soft belly fur

of course i fall for it

~

its midnight & the lawn is wet

stars out in the skys great bowl

& the solar storms flares  

show up as nothing here

but i stay awhile / hoping 

they might / even invisible

be rewiring my brain

RED BERRIES LIKE GLACÉ CHERRIES

& the 

great dark 

brooding bruise

of overcast sky

made the 

rain slick

tree trunks 

chocolate

& the lawn 

a garish 

green limeade

red berries like glacé cherries

rudely trumped the fir trees reach

THEY FORGET WE THROW THIS SHIT AWAY & BONUS POPLINGS

theyre selling us 

sea plastic now

as ecological bangles

like they forgot 

we throw this shit away

~

trained & conditioned

we genuflect our credit

in 

the
holy heft of bargains

~

& my first hash

well i lay cliche

on a suburban lawn

star struck & immobile

with someone

i would never talk to again

IN A FEEDBACK LOOP & SMELL

the passive aggressive fox
he looks me in the eye
as he shits on our lawn

i dont mind 

i shit in the house
& that doesnt sound any better

at least he is interacting
out in the world air & smoke

i read the death news
in my plastic glass

in a feedback loop & smell

photo - Lawn Buddies #14 from the Dagenham Archive

TROUBLES

i taped the worlds troubles
up in a shipping box

& the courier i book

well hes no mercury

he dont like having 

the rubicon in the rear view

& hes tired of atlas 

yawning up ahead

from fanjjjt.com

DREAM BLEEDS

pink sky
white lawn

&
at the kitchen table
coffee
slaps
me
around
the breakfast things

till 
i 
realise / admit
i am 
not meeting 
a wizard today

the man in a purple gown fades out
back to dreamscape
not meant for the sun

& sky glows now
on the
wet lawn shine

from en.wikionary.org

PICASA MADRIGALS, AUTUMN EVERYWHERE

stretched out

on the

summer brown lawn

its always

autumn

isnt it ? 

somewhere in meat hq

PICASA MADRIGALS, TWO FOOT TALL & HOTHOUSE FLOWERS

SOME MONDAY POPS

HIGH STREET MARKET

cardboard empire
stacked & packed

coffee loading
fingerless gloves
take a break
to
dig inside money aprons

refolding the float
shaking the shrapnel

in 
the
6 AM refinery glare 

& yell-

POUND FORRA POUND

mildly psycho
at the old 
& 
the supermarket wary

come 
opening 
time



IN HIS OWN WAY

hes fucked come dawn 
nervous
norovirus
again 

he fucks the dawn
in his own way . . . 

then calls the day
to say

hes too tired now

to
come
outside
&
play

in that awful streetside 
gone
sweatbox
gray




SO SCATTERED

what can i write now
that better have said ?

( child
  sat
  on the empty 
  autumn back lawn
  sad
  gaze
  on the empty 
  kitchen window

  he has a toy car
  thats not quite right

  wondering 
  what 11 AM
  is for )

what to write now
in
these
times
so . . . so . . . scattered

( too OUT of touch
  too IN touch
  facetime
  plastic hacked )

what to write now
but
an
ode again
to
the
timeless trees
timeless lessons

rooted but reaching



ODE TO TIMELESS TREES

the springwinter wind
blows
early 
apple
blossom

like spontaneous confetti

over
the
marriage
of
the
birdshit onion grass
&
cracked
rutted
english lawn

from quirkyscienece.com

SOFT EPISODE

LAYING ON THE LAWN

nature wears

a thousand

soft crowns

all the colours

of a 

spilled oil rainbow

how sad

it cannot see 

its rain and sun attention

a deerhunters deer

boxed in

in the hinterlands

barbecue lawns

THE DAYS WATCHING

the day 
all the days
i dont know what to do with them
theyre like tambourines 
in the snow

i got my colour tv 
and my dylan lps
i grind up fresh coffee beans
breathing new stainless 
electric vapour
up at the same ceiling whirls
where my grandfather
blew his yellow pipe smoke

the days well theyre like
one of those portraits 
in a gallery
or on a wood paneled wall 
in a horror films 
creaking mansion
where the painted eyes 
seem to follow you
which ever chair arm
you perch on dubious
and sipping at a drink

the days well theyre like 
i been flagged up
and all the teachers
and all the policeman know
and now theyre ready
to bear down
and bite at my ear
angry with agendas
angry with the writing
and the unmowed lawn

from wikipedia.org

OLD GUYS AND THE TRUTH LAWNS - POPTASMS

1.

  we are past 

    Truth 

the rags yell-

completely 
   forgetting 
  their job

and i am only trying 
to 
get 
my first coffee down

and
it
tastes
like
boiled stone



3.


out the window -

no shitehawks on my lawn

its 
all 
clean out there

  the
leaves laid out by an artist

no headlines
  for
broken
  eggs
   in 
   the 
 young starling trees


3.

and the old guys
from the old times
who fought the old wars
still
go
up the shop  
             s l o w l y

for
their
8 am
rags

every single bad news day


4.

and
our
forever
queen 

wrinkled gin puppet
 empire fresh
  on her 
 golden potty
calls for lavendar

picking
a
castle
for
the
weekend

from www.onceuponatimeabc.wikia

NATURE FOOL 1

we'd rather
sit
on
our
parquet
and
deep pile
under insulated roofs
with
our
electric tickles
and
dry wall distractions 
missing
all
the
essential 
information 
that
hangs
on the scented air 

SO 

i go walk barefoot
on
my
frosty
lawn ...

  

from koopmanblog

FUCKTOWNS BELLY

day has opened its windows
and
pulled
the
nights
walls down 

melted them into water

water is on the lawn with long shadows
and
is
cried
over
the
cool
cars
in shining baubles - run into rivers 
over bonnets and bumpers
as the workers fire their pistons
and
move into gear

the sky is uniform grey
like a used dish rag
or
gods
sick
turned
back
in a garbage shirt old as time

the day has rotten teeth
men
in
hi-vis
drill the cavities out
their
machines
echo
off
quiet bungalow walls

fucktowns belly bellows van motors
and mutters outside the paper shop
subdued sirens creep thru trimmed bushes

urgent but no too urgent

fucktowns belly
belches
like deep currents out in the brown river

fucktown eating us with its rotten teeth
eating
our
high street wanders
and
drs appointments
our estate agent window perusals 

deep in fucktowns belly 
it mashes us up 
into
tonights
new
adobe 
walls

from lawnsmith.co.uk

LORCA AND BUCKOWSKI IN MY GARDEN

the garden is there
like
a
lawn lays down
identical to itself with unsecrets
and
at
three o clock
its
three o clock on the dot
and
brother bear
stretches out in the chair
sitting
in
limbo
like a framed picture is there
hanging inevitable 
from a nail banged in paint
from 
tins
rusting
with bent lids
twisted like deformity is twisted
left
out
in
the
garage
for decades like forever

from mickdean.net

 

POETS ! 2

poets !

do you mow that lawn ?
or
lay on it
and 
wallow weakly in its 
tiny
forests
wondering
if
you
can face the metallic smell and cobwebs
of
the
dark
inhabited
shed 
where the mower - LEVIATHAN - waits dusty and heavy ?

do you
just lay abandoned in its tall wands
and
fuzzball meadows
watching
its
citizens
pace and parade
and
try to forget
the
angry row the mower would yell ?

if it would start anyway . . .

and wheres the grass catcher ?

and the petrol can ?

and
who
are
you
anyway
to cull this lush microcosm 
this
thick
gifted
apron - natures deep pile home ?

dont worry about it -
it
will
get
mowed
another day
when
your
head
is squarer
and
the
chaos
needs a fight