Agent
Ooks is way beyond the best
mass
disruptor Gee has ever met
shook
his hand with just a brush of skin
dry
as a gin
cocktail
speaks in British English like
Dr
Watson’s chappie whatsis name
did
for half the crooks on London Fields
geek
with the cap
Ooks
meanwhile puts crime where it belongs
knows
a thing or two about the mind
criminals
or terrorists from mad
women
to men
name
your favourite type of villain he'll
goad
them on to greater evil deeds
dips
inside the masonry of hood to raise
one
to the top
when
he has a deviant in place
plays
the devil till it screws them up
then
he’ll pounce you see his role's a cat
rustler
at heart
*
Agent
Ooks has walked out on the job
fifty
times too many slings his hook
just
when things are hotting up he slinks
off
on a drunk
cold
as an owl curried pizza box
Ooks
will dig in deep a second fault
totally
forgets his cover third
spoiler
of plots
why
they never fire him on the spot
heaven
knows the holy ghost gives up
half
its days off signing chits to get
him
out of holes
still
without this Ooks we'd never have
won
the war on rock'n'roll or gout
writes
a mean old postcard too a gent's
toilet
of doubt
shags
in fourteen different languages
did
the Kama Sutra till divorce
bagged
him seven hip hop dancing girls
drills
on the twerk
*
well
remunerated though he works
on
& off the bank cannot keep track
lives
from rags to riches by the hour
sleeps
in a sack
barrow
down the Old Kent Rd his shirts
Saville
Row with underpants from Jock
Strap
prefers to crawl than take a bus
barked
at by dogs
never
clocks himself in mirrors chucks
rotten
eggs at Lord Mayor’s carriages
ladybirds
undo their marriages
Ooks
gets around
Gee
is jealous if the truth were told
sold
him down the river countless times
still
he never ducks which makes things worse
Ooks
is his curse
episodes
for sale or rent enquire
face-to-face
or here on-line my rates
astronomical
no wasters please
Ooks
is the best
Dirty
Hole
past
the scenic route this beauty spot
nestles
under Todger's Vale & sores
needles'
eyes all along down along
Crawley-on-Fawes
lads
& lasses bent on trekking there
do
beware its reputation shun
heaven's
bells don't come a cropper turn
over
in fun
hope
abandoned mars the entrance but
plugging
in & pressing on no doubt
drives
the folks who choose to sod the map
till
they pull out
all
the stops commit themselves veer
headlong
through on satan's parachute
I
Tiresias who pioneered
gender
dispute
stumbled
on it many years ago
tie
yr helmet down before you try
buckle
up & bend that trusty bow
needless
to die
flight
2019
crawling
cross this map of Europe by
plane
who knows what folks have made of it
Roman
roads still visible & towns
ancient
or new
forests
lakes & mountains dominate
our
ascent though clouds obscure some parts
making
patterns of their own till fields
broaden
the ground
one
enormous river snaking south
joined
by tributaries from the east
waters
thousand-acre grain box plots
broken
by strip
agriculture
far as I can tell
then
a bank of nimbus blocks my view
cotton
budding far below the wings
glimpses
of hills
false
horizons white & grey on blue
wisps
of vapour pass the portholes fast
while
above us roars the sparkling great
darkness
of space
*
having
woken up the clouds are gone
now
the river flowing north with towns
nestling
on its banks at bends decants
seawards
I guess
greens
& browns replace the cornfield sands
woods
obscured by narrow strands of cloud
tiny
windmills stitch the chequered ground
railways
abound
still
the coast is some way off as yet
see-through
gases hang above the ends
pocket
airports bricks & mortar towns
parcel
the plain
cross
The Channel in another doze
London
snags the Thames on stilts a vast
reservoir
of dirty puddles bask
flat
in the glare
rushing
downwards left & right we pass
neat
estates or scarfaced quarries new
industries
& farmsteads roads canals
England
at last
*
no
it’s not a holiday I try
claiming
things to sort out folks to see
course
I'd rather drive & take my stuff
back
on the roof
navigating
half a dozen states
paying
tolls explaining here & there
how
I have compunctions not to leave
heirlooms
behind
but
there’s precious chance of such a step
plan
it though I do from time to time
stead
of which I fry the planet fly
budget
airlines
count
the cost a benefit of sorts
time
to ponder where I stand between
continents
& faiths as well as lands
baggage
on hold
weighting
in the wings suspended thoughts
take
the wider view of time & place
better
not to burn my boats but sail
head
in the past
more
cack in the attic
Shakespeare’s
watch & phablet auctioned well
fifty
universities outbid
one
another till the offers climbed
over
10 bill
then
some oligarchs stepped in & priced
Willy's
privates into outer space
after
which his priceless works of art
quit
planet Earth
having
left it up to Them to save
humankind
from losing precious face
books
prevailed a compromise was made
Portia
& Lear
liked
Elton Husk's idea of sending his
hidden
files to server clouds on Mars
where
in future scholars could repair
studying
there
on
a scholarship endowment scheme
meanwhile
back in Stratford plans were laid
Shakespeare’s
bones would one day be returned
from
their new grave
the
upside of down
eider
ducked the question if it was
better
in a former life to be
human
& come back as something else
than
disappear
altogether
daft of me to ask
birds
have never sat about & had
existential
thoughts considered not
plucking
their breasts
reincarnation's
a question no
one
can answer least of all a quack
quack
perhaps a frog from spending years
under
a stone
having
time to think might put you wise
if
the secrets of the universe
come
to those who sit & hold their whist
or
getting pissed
sleeping
off the deepest darkest hang
over
with an eiderdown to dream
under
when it's cold outside a bird
brain
ain’t so thick
 |
Not
for sale!
|
