Poem #8

Things to observe when you next go clubbing:


Pre-cooked boy with the python eyes.

Reptilian man tastes pressure.

Gay friend plays the boyfriend disguise.

Ascents like an M.C. Escher.


Pretty girl shirking with a cheek,

Too meek to stamp or claw an eye,

He cradles into her tired week;

Three hydra heads are standing by.


All this you’ll see and waive, because

Mate, honestly, I was so waved.

Poem #6

Hmm? Oh yes, he does love Clara. Don’t you remember he bought that Zara jacket with the taut hood? Made her look like Kenneth McCormick, no zip. And his passcode- on his phone. 2527. Her name, if you allow for the alphanumeric kowtow.

But her name has five parts, and his passcode just four, spelling Clar. But if it had one more, it would spell Clara.

Besides, 2527 is quite unambiguous. Nothing else is tailing Clar. Except maybe Clark. Or Clarence.

Poem #5

The A in DNA stands for apology.

White people will give a pass to astrology

But not to that.

That confuses me because I love a good sorry;

I’m a contrition addict, and sometimes my sorries

Contradict their surroundings.

I apologise for emails

Both pragmatic and necessary.

And I apologise to 4×4 drivers

When I semi-run on zebra skins.


Oh, sorry: the DN stands for Deoxyribonucleic.