Tanka Collection
A tanka is an old form of Japanese poetry. It is a kind of epic haiku: 5 lines instead of 3.
Tankas have 31 syllables instead of the haiku’s 17.
The syllables are arranged strictly in a 5 / 7 / 5 / 7 / 7 pattern.
Five-liner Funnies
A Many Splendoured Thing
“I am looking for
emotionally safe sex,”
was his chat-up line.
So she scalpelled out his heart
And kept it in a condom.
What Do Babies Do With Their Pocket Money?
“In Japan more nappies are
sold to adults than
to babies” (The Sunday Times):
Irresponsible babies!
Buy nappies now! Give a shit!
Make Love Not Bore
She liked his foreplay
and found his after-play fine.
The perfect lover?
Sadly there was a problem:
his during-play was M.I.A.
Put Money on the Yeti
Let’s have a punch-up:
Nature versus Religion,
with sound-alike champs:
Abominable Snowman,
Hebdominal Councilman.
Feed the World
Mutton dressed as spam:
what price a true naked lunch?
What’s on our fork’s end?
Which came first, Chicken Nuggets
or Egg MacMuffins? Eat up.
Belly Button Window
The Buddha met Christ,
and Mohammed was there too.
So he spake unto them thus:
“If you two had a navel
like mine you’d gaze at it too!”
Love Is In the Air
Today’s big question:
masturbator on a plane,
in-flight selfie man.
Is he in the Mile High Club
or is he just a wanker?
I Think I’ll Stick To Haiku
Homer’s Iliad,
and his Odyssey as well,
Virgil’s Aeneid, all hits!
My long Paradise Re-Lost?
Nothing. No sale. Epic fail.
Don’t Go There
Number one no-no
when talking to a lover:
“What are you thinking?”
With a poet, best avoid
“Ooooh! There’s a poem in that!”
Blood Clot
“Never mind down there,
my brain needs Viagra most!”
was his escape joke of choice –
till one day she found her voice:
“Now I know you’re a dickhead!”
What Do You Want To Be When You Grow Up?
“A top footballer!”
“A t.v. celebrity!”
“A cool astronaut!”
“A polymath”, says the one
with the smashed up spectacles.
Cleaning in Progress
He pissed on my rug.
“Now there’s gratitude”, I thought.
But redemption rules -
he quickly placed a yellow
folding sign: Caution! Wet Floor.
Mood Swingers
It rained front door keys.
Same sex and opposite sex,
they all tossed them down.
Then random realignments
threw tantrums at each other.
Love
War On Want
His desire was
for her desire, not for
her. Her desire was for
his desire, not for him.
Possessive pronouns can’t love.
Let’s Just Be Friends
In relationships
his true function has always
been to disappoint.
Good at starting love’s heartbeat,
better at stopping it dead.
Losering Blues
Oh little boy lost!
He was such a good loser
that he had even
swallowed down that final fear,
the victim’s fear of winning.
Out of the Blue
Your leaving hurts me:
it has all the sudden pain,
the unforeseen shock,
and the total innocence
of a baby’s firm head-butt.
Lovers
Just two kinds exist:
the ones who live secret lives
with the same partner;
and those who live one clear life
but with different partners.
A Kind of Loving
They spoke together
with secret embarrassment:
the mutual plight
of those who have been dreaming,
vividly, of each other.
Humans
Drop the ‘N’ Word
Saccharine Alley
is the true and honest name
for Memory Lane:
childhood games, t.v. and sweets.
Tell! Were you born Nostalgic?
Age-Related Concession
Beware of old folk,
that great army of strangers
out to recruit YOU.
But have no fear, their press-gang
will not find YOU, of course not!
Hit Me, Baby, One More Time
Yes you have caused hurt
but such self-flagellation
must have its limits.
No more beating yourself up -
pick on someone your own size.
Common Lies, no. 237
“It’s not the money!
The money’s not important.”
But truth must stand clear:
translate “It’s Not the Money” –
It IS the money! Always.
Coping Strategy
Nice comfort blankets!
Buy your comfort blankets here!
Sir, madam, tell me:
your favoured blanket, is it
Nostalgia or Amnesia?
A Buddy Movie
Lego Man! My friend!
See how I dismantle him,
reassemble him
as a different figure.
His name? Call him memory.
Flash Drive Laureate
“Back up all data”,
sound advice that bookended
Computers For Dolts:
hence each poem on each page,
memory sticks for the heart.
The Big Machine
Rich but still needy,
greedy but so insecure,
we spread our systems:
we sell the Thing to others –
the Thing returns to eat us.
Spooked
Unquiet spirits
no longer attach to place,
ghosts brook no mortar.
No more haunted houses here:
ghosts dwell in haunted people.
From the Bookself
I fondle my past
like an old fondly kept book;
it flops wide open
at all my favourite bits –
the rest stays stuck together.
The Big Picture
The Latest Model
Hominid species
have come and gone, come and gone:
we are just one more.
Which environment riddle
stumps US? Outer or inner?
The Fate of the Indigenous Population
Finally! They’re here,
the creatures from outer space.
But what’s that you say?
Suddenly you don’t feel well?
Martian Measles! Cosmic Pox!
Triumph of the Will
God has flown his plane
into the Babel Tower:
pious terrorist!
But our cunning pride will win –
we’ll dig a Pit of Babel!
There’s No Profit In It
Capitalism:
corrupt, crisis-prone, callous
system of a down.
Rampant, selfish greed making
Nihilism look humane.
Forewarned Is Forearmed
Our kitchen units
will outlive us by decades -
planned obsolescence!
Only humans know of death:
who to thank for that knowledge?
Myopia Dystopia
Any horizon
is better than a foreground.
But what if, let’s say,
you have been taught that foreground
is your only horizon?
Holier Than Thou
God came up with the
definition of a saint
(He preferred angels):
a human being whose life
has not yet been well researched.
Making an Exhibition of Your Self
We sculpt our bodies
and cultivate our faces:
pimp our homes with art –
judicious selection rules.
We are all curators now.
What Matters
I renounce belief
with both horror and relief:
here is my body –
it is the only thing that
reminds me I am alive.
Childish Things
Shall we pray to God?
Can we be so infantile?
How can we grow up?
life starts when we put away
our imaginary friend.
Multiverse
We are often told
that the sky is the limit.
But in a cosmos
of ever expanding space
that seems too unambitious.
Corporate Merger
I am who I am,
I am who I think I am,
I am who you think
I am. How close can we bring
these three imperfect strangers?
What Rhymes With ‘Nature’?
So you love mountains?
Then why use words like ‘conquer’?
So you love the wilds?
Then why use words like ‘empty’?
Conquer your own empty head!
Root and Branch
Trees smell good, look good,
feel good, sound good, and do good.
If that’s not enough,
they grant us one more great gift:
they point beyond their own selves.
Having It Both Ways
Sitting safe at home
he likes to think of the wild,
and in wilderness
he likes to know in his heart
that a secure nest awaits.
Alone in the Dark
Waking wild land nights
kept the bear away with fire:
sound travels by fear.
Now, though the bear haunts my dreams,
the bear will not dream of me.
Sensory Deprivation
A forest danger,
makes vision a luxury;
sounds and smells are prime.
The opium of the woods:
powerful intimacy.
Interloper
Lone wolf on tundra,
stunty bonsai level trees
reveal no pack hope:
desperate as a magnet
in a world without metal.
Wizzard Lizard
Ah! Chameleons!
They converse through colour change,
silent pillow talk:
their sexual intercourse
fires visual orgasm.
Blowing in the Wind
Winter: here the trees
shake dead brown leaves to the earth -
dark candelabras,
yet perhaps not so barren:
plastic bags are in full bloom.
Wilderness Approaching
Steppe, taiga, tundra:
a land ablaze with itself.
Nothing of beauty,
a landscape rejecting love
but stirring contemplation.
Personal
Paying Your Dues
Commuting to work:
fighting the motorway wars,
enduring packed trains –
it made me feel so beaten,
so unpleasantly grown up.
Put Down
“I really don’t know
anyone who thinks like you,
whose mind works like yours.”
It was not a compliment:
but I might take it as one.
Gran’s Singer Sewing Machine
Elegant-heavy
dog-leg with wheel that will whirr:
shiny black thrummer.
Her home was full of needles:
Gramophone; this; and sharp tongue.
Any Last Request?
The firing squad waits
as he writes his last poem
on a Rizla Red:
he lights up, inhales the words
until bullets pierce their smoke.
Media-Fasting Is Good For the Brain
Alienation:
I cannot march to the tune
“The Whole Nation Mourns” -
when a National Treasure dies
voilà! Alien nation.
Not a Victimless Crime
Kleptomaniacs
flit, room to room, in my home:
from teaspoons to books,
not one thing is safe from me –
self-kleptomania rules.
I Have No Shame
A disappointment
to mother and to father:
always wrong choices -
but wait something is missing,
the comfort of feeling guilt.
Life and Death
My fierce consciousness:
sometimes it feels immortal,
vivid beyond death.
What pathetic fallacies
script-write our vanishing act.
Pacifism Breakfast
Boiled to perfection
this warm brown free-range awaits
egg-soldier attack:
but these buttered fingers are
conscientious objectors.
A Call For Witnesses
Between the 19th
of March 1949
and the date today,
a human being is said
to have taken place right here.