Ich verkünde die Wahrheit,

Die ich selber bin:

Keine andere.


Wer soll sich eigentlich

Dafür interessiern?

Keine andere.


Und wieso dann verkünden?


Keine andere.





Family rhymes

Four sisters, there were, and a mum.

(The dad away, working with chums.)

They fought, the girls, over who was the best:

Dad’s preference was always the eldest;

The second was the mum’s favourite one.

The jousting of both was fearsome fun.

The younger ones ducked, so it passed them by;

It follows they turned out wary and shy.


Did any escape the torture of those days?

Well, each was married, their own kids raised,

Three were divorced… only the eldest was not –

Seemingly she had drawn the better lot

(Being the one who the father adored).

The younger two went away to live abroad,

Had a few boyfriends to settle the score,

One had two kids; the other had four.


The second daughter went for divergence

Embracing the theories then in emergence:

Seeing as she and her sisters could not coexist,

She became a lesbian feminist!

Women’s lib didn‘t help too much in the end.

Indeed, it drove her son around the bend.


Really someone should have stopped her;

Now he’s a misogynist good and proper,

Stuck at home with two girls and a wife

And suffering, poor chap, no end of strife.

But if you think that’s the end, well it’s not:

The next generation will thicken the plot.






Pleni sunt caeli et terra gloria tua, pt.2

Except for

Gob, piss, plaque, snot, BO, puss,

Halitosis, cerumen, dandruff,

Vomit, smegma, blackheads, crust,

Sores, scum, slime, bum-fluff;

Mold, skip-juice, globs of congealed fat;

Smack, fags, amphetamine, crack;

Plastic, asbestos, rabies, anthrax,

TB, the plague, cancer, poison-gas;

Curse words, the middle-finger, spit;

Torture chambers, guns, psychosis,

Thermonuclear bombs… farts, zits

Rancid butter, eye-gunge, shit.




Moany verse

Life goes on and on –

And I’m only forty, just gone:

Hardly getting on.

Did you know I’ve even got

My second row

Of eye-bags to show?


I’m getting old in my mind too.

Examples? There’s a few:

The news is no longer news;

I’ve hardly any CDs

That aren’t from the 1990s;

The atlas once inspired plans

To visit promised lands.

But I’m going nowhere.


And I’ve not got any wiser.

I’d like to have become more taciturn.

But no. I’ve learnt

You’re never too old not to learn.


Everything is getting worse.

Everything is getting worse, it is.

Except for moany verse, that is.




Birthday poem 020202

Would you let an eight-year-old hold

A porcelain vase a thousand years’ old?

But there you were. “There” –

The midwives laughed as they did it

Carefree now, talking to an idiot.

And there you were,

My daughter in my arms.

I dared to look down – then up –

And a thousand thousand-year-old vases burst like stars

Right across the night sky, (ie in the pupils of my eye),

For there you were.