Only Fans

my dog stepped on a bee

grandma killed a drone

with the most excellent pickles

yet I live within

feeding on

Binley Mega Chippy

watching with tears

the people of Ukraine

punished by the despot

as we have our own

tin pot dictator

of inflationary no comprise

parties more of a preference

champagne eton mess

vulgar shits

believing covid in retrograde

the poor keep dying

on the pyre of debt

chancellor grinning

utility meter spinning

on his cosy yacht

let them eat cake

but even that we cannot afford

food bank serenade

whilst they last

until nobody can supply them

we need tractors

to steal tanks

so I can live

and you all can smile

maybe a grimace

a death masque to society

Wheatfields

Wheatfields

she hitched  her

shorts the cleft

appeared

and in that moment

all tides surged

today had become

brighter.

Ukrainian girl in wheat field Painting

Pavel Laponog

Ukraine

Painting, Oil on Canvas

Size: 25 W x 35 H x 1.4 D cm

Love Ukraine

2022 a pandemic is just loosening its grip and then another disease began , Russia under the looming presence of Putin , invaded Ukraine with brutal aggression a petulant psychopath wanting a reunited Soviet Union , well he can fuck off , I see on the news a beautiful people facing adversity with grace and fortitude and in my heart and prayers I think of them , and as I do I remembered there is a poem Love Ukraine by Volodymyr Sosyura that says so much and can fit for the here and now

Please offer aid to any organisation , the people of Ukraine need our love and support

Juke Date 74

there is a dirt road thunder

away from city limits

dust and grits

and over burnt coffee

crows feet eyes

and indistinct touch

nothing cellphone can resolve

jukebox clicks to vinyl

see her in the kitchen

with a smile

I will eat her pie

An Owlet Calls

hospital sounds occurred as

limp wires stretched to where she lay

quiet

body traumatised by the crash

she would scar , she would heal

away without him

her abuser,possessor , nightmare husband

a moth glimmered in her eye

how did it get in

then seemed to grow

expanding into something larger

she managed a smile

as it settled upon her

she sighed

it’s body pressing on top

a noctuidae

face bearded wise

antenna folded, she wanted to touch

trying to speak intubated

a gargling slur of nothing

I will protect you

it seemed to say

a fair exchange would be

probiscus probing pressing

her vein rich neck

flowing with oxygenated life

it pierced her flesh gently

a soft penetration

unlike others experienced

she would be safe

the owlet moth said so

quiet

she slept

Owlet moth copyright Daniel Kaliko

#PWpoetryprompt

Corona Flare

fables of pandemic unfold

more monsters than gods

take to visual stage

casting blame stones

impaled on their own arrogance

desperate to be seen

as the one

not concerned with people

fleshy pulp of the continent

oozing red into their eyes and hearts

more pledges of gold

in coffers in pockets

skin slaves toil

frontline fodder

without health armistice

broken promises

soiled memories

of what was and still

could of been

when it’s over

people will rise

staves and torches

battering the ivory towers

hoping this time

it will change

Mystery Apex

Concussed by mornings

sharpened light

grasping cotton silence

each breath was tentative

alone

without the other

that shadow fragment

of a once upon a night

recalling synaptic responses

she knew

he had departed

but to who

or where

tears where of no consequence

why shed them

fuck memories

and fuck those

who fucked them

Mercury Drops

paper cuts once

more painful

than the striating

marks on the heart

each ventricle incised

life a blood force

poured as if from

an unblessed chalice

closing eyes

cannot make you hide

slow each breath

coax intuition

to help

it is going

yield and go

fear of life

the greater threat

even with her

whisper kisses

Lean Against The Letting Go

Lean against the letting go by Christopher Lawrence

like pressed garlic
creamy crushed
husk blown away,
i held her
forgetting the argument,
forgiveness and
playing with that
blonde hair
thinking of tomorrow

A poem that got put published in Rusty Truck 25 March 2012 in memory of Richard Brautigans birthday 30th January 1935