A comment on pescetarial consumption in The Old Town.

The Shellfish are coming.
Slowly from the breaking surf
their glistening bounties did quiver and lurch
Until forth upon the moistened sand
the chieftain of  husks came to land
"I am your harbinger of Doom" he said
Bow before me at last to avoid your death"
For as the sun rises on a hot summer's day
our cockle shacks bustle in a murderous way
whilst the benches outside heave with hungry pawns
a pint of whelks, an oyster or a small pot of prawns?
And when the oral corrosion so requisite is complete
the bloody carcasses of their brethren litter the street
Such careless disregard for actual digestive need
and instead insatiable ordering of fish for our greed.
So, perhaps it is no surprise, this war on mankind?
This genocidal retort, seeding plans in their mind
It isn't too late to change the course of our path
to consider our greed and the ocean's aftermath

Han Solo's Lament.

I used to be a rebel,
But I got tired of all the shit,
of kessel runs, shooting first
and overgrown sandpits…
I got tired of always being
the second in command
of sexual tension between siblings
And that fucking boring band..
Now I am a poet
And I focus just on me
So Luke, can stroke my wookie
And fuck camaraderie.

The Next Station

The next station is… too far from the one I want
If I’m eaten before I get there
I’d like this printed in standard size 12 font.

London via Tilbury

I wish I had an Ipod,
so this journey was less shit,
I got the train that goes via Tilbury

What a total tit.

Upskilling.

‘Upskilling’ they call it, whoever ‘they’ are,
another super idea they developed at the bar.
“Let's put them in a room that smells of tuna melt,
the one decorated by the guy with a boner for felt,
I don’t have time to go over it much,
I'm running too late for my free buffet lunch”
And don’t worry that the 'skills' are nothing that they NEED
And don't let them out, not even if they plead.
How much were ‘they’ paid to come up with this plan?
Seventy Thousand a year? Big Up to ‘the man’.
If you think I'm being over the top, that’s really a shame,
Cause I'm sitting in that room and I'm feeling this pain.
The guy next to me thinks he’s a real comic wit.
But in reality he’s actually an absolute tit.
And now he’s started eating a fucking pork pie,
Oh God somebody shoot me, just take me out to die
I’d like to see 'the management' sat here in my chair,
Preferably doused in petrol and clutching a flare.
But I never will, they are so busy you see,
indulging in a free lunch, that is paid for by me.

Trapped Wind.

I knew the man on the train had eaten KFC
I knew this fact because
his bowels were telling me.
When I say that they were 'telling' me it was more of an aggressive shout..
If his arse had been a man,
He'd have been a ticket tout.
When I say 'ticket tout',
I don't meant the guy with a spare,
I mean the Cretin outside Highbury and Islington,
with the Terry Wogan hair.
When I say Terry Wogan,
this isn't about 'Children in Need'
It's about a man on the train to Tower Hill,
Whose farts made my nasal hair bleed.