don’t put in an open wound what you wouldn’t put in your eye but it
turns out u can
super-glue cuts shut

turns out peo-ple swear by it but
mostly swear by glues wot will not
irritate the lungs and eyes
and skin and stall the process
of healing humble cuts
glue wot gladly heals your humble
noble lowly cuts like
flesh wound/ shallow, breezy cuts like
mad enough cuts like if ur in america

u gotta pay bills if ur in america
stitches cost lots probs if ur in america

so pay bills or super-glue america    so like
america/ no i’m not american


[NONPOST DO NOT READ. DON’T SAY I DIDN’T WANT YOU] playin on nintender ((T B C)/(#0001))

the nintendo ground-pound

press “A!” to jump
and press “A!” again at the apex of your jump and there you,
as they say, have it

press “B!” to punch it
press “A!” then “B!” to punch mid-air

walk around with “←↑↓→” try that

press “B!” to punch with him

press “START.”

please navigate “START.” menu with “←↑↓→”

select “SETTINGS.”
select “BRIGHTNESS.”

press “B!” to return to settings menu
select “CONTRAST.”

select “CONTRAST: 90.”
please press “B!” to return to settings menu

select “BRIGHTNESS.”


you can save your game at believe it or not any point by pressing
“B!” to return to menu and using
“←↑↓→” to navigate menu selecting
“SAVE GAME.” then selecting
“ACCEPT.” then selecting

select “BRIGHTNESS: 70.” >WARNING>

boss encounter. you may wish to save
see: “>TIP#0001>”
if you do not wish to save,

Ser Eustus / “the Dog Virtues”

the old dog mel mccuddinit’s my birthday today
thanks it feels OK

i spent most of this morning dreaming bout befriending
dogs with names like ‘Ser Eustus’
lurchers n dobermen /not daschunds but mastiffs but
great dane, that was it
Ser Eustus was a great dane

and over breakfast i wondered what a dog can do to a person
or for a person rather
(saying this i watched a horror film the other night
where funnily enough i saw some of the things dogs can do
TO people, FOR other people
unfortunately this poem/meandering blog post will not be about that kind of thing)

maybe a dog gives a person an excuse to love
when they didn’t know they needed an excuse in the first place
and soon enough loving at least this one thing becomes habit
and love trickles down and through and a person is happy
(or more inclined to be)
not to mention the responsibility of looking after a dog
responsibility is good for a person also, i think

i realise these perhaps
are examples of what a person might do for themselves, through a dog
as opposed to what a dog does for a person

i suppose in my totally and forever
unjustified and undeserved opinion
what a dog does for a person is offer them a bond of companionship
like no other – that’s probably it isn’t it?
and briefly looking through descriptions of
dog breeds on the internet
i see words like “dignified”
“courageous” and “patient”
“devoted to family” (shoutout to this dog in particular
for like augustus and many others
they see the breakdown of the family unit
as detrimental to the well-being of the state)
“quietly intelligent” and i didn’t see ‘graceful’ but i often catch myself
describing dogs as graceful
and i’m sure you have too and if you haven’t i suggest you
set about doing so with immediate effect
or at least looking for the grace in some dogs
needless to say i’m sure most of us find aforementioned virtues
in dogs with little to no effort
as silly as they sound

in disgrace charles burton barberi like the idea of someone organising your birthday for you
you wake up on the day
potentially next to them but y’know
not necessarily

and they have a plan and they
take you along and you take it for granted in most cases
and i don’t want a dog for my birthday
but when it’s a dogs birthday i like to think they get similar treatment
and they remain enthusiastic and loyal throughout
just like they are all the time
so i suppose what i’m saying is that
in a somewhat human undoglike way
i would have appreciated being walked today


i saw one g7y on youtube use a bunch of double cream but i don’t fuck with/like that

pic totally unrelated
the first time i saw this i knew i wanted to use it for a poem
and who knows when i’ll write my next poem, right?/1/1/1!!?!?!?!?

last few hey-ho
ups n downs n wasted time
let jealousy get the better of me it
sits me down and keeps me sat
indefinitely indubitably i should review
what i currently consider priorities

italian food en masse
excuse my french but this pot bellies worth it
for the pasta pon pasta yeah
some kids’ take on
flavours and recipes passed down through generations
globalised commodified commercialised n
fetishised but i like to think i treat italian food with
some degree of respect
except when i do the funny accent /that’s not cool

maybe i should turn this into some kind of food blog
gods know; the rich ingredients
that once constituted the vast seemingly
endless simmering sauce that was my poetry
have run dry /their
excitable saucier in the sky jaded

so without further ado i’d like to like to talk you through
~my recipe instructions~
~for a slimy carbonara~
that’ll mentally take you to the italian riviera
and didnt’cha know that mediterranean people live-a for long’a (sorry)
serves:1 (because if you are anything like me
you are alone and largely miserable)

you need
spaghett of some kind
bacon or panchetta
few eggs n some parmasan
butter or olive oil but ideally both my friends
black pepper and garlic please
optional parsley /mushrooms n
cherry-boy tomatoes
maybe some rocket i guess

prep first if you don’t chop good
otherwise boil spaghett right the heck now (this evening i will
be using linguine)

chop bacon
panchetta if you’re feelin bougie
the egg sauce (SEE: the egg sauce)

OK now chuck a wad o butter in a pan n watch it melt
huff it and be rallied/hurry crush a couple cloves
(of garlic) chuck em in n take a moment
to savour the fragrance
no time/ throw in the bacon
let it brown stir it round & for the ‘optional’ few
add mushrooms around now
cherry-boys whenever you want depending on your preference

timing timing timing timing
i’m not a youtube video or a cookbook
i’m a poem that is potentially
primarily written to inform
(make the egg sauce around now (SEE: the egg sauce))

go ahead and scoop out them cloves asshole
your pasta should be ready around now
so drain it and throw it in the bacon pan
toss it maybe put in a little pasta water
turn the hob off

extremely high level stuff.
the egg sauce:::
couple egg yolks n grated parmasan
or pecorino according to elitist fatboy jamie oliver
and his padrone puppetmasters
yeah beat and whisk that cheese on sight n
pour the sauce on over your pasta
and let me tell you
the warmth of the pasta alone will
get the eggs to where they need to be (AN AMAZING SCIENTIFIC FACT)
mark my words

i swear to you
on my youth and my admittedly
shredded tattered dignity
that sauce and your bacon grease will be complicit in creating
what is commonly regarded as a carbonara sauce, my friends

pepper parsley pepper more
i love a peppery carbonara me and
i’m sure you will too
with mushies and cherry-boys optional /toss it all
linguin-e ideall-y
serve it up/ grate more cheese whatever

and there you, as they say, have it
by far the tastiest poem i’ve ever written
and relatively, by a far smaller margin the healthiest********
potentially the most informative
potentially the least poetic

************except for that one about nuts and dried fruits


pic again somewhat related
i believe it necessary to mention that i know virtually nothing about birds
please enjoy this deranged and clumsily crudely told poem. thank you

picked apart by birds of prey
or scavenger birds or
bird mentality

not penguins but like
*fuckin birds* yeah
talons descending
squawking pecking they
go for the eye they
tear through your cheeks and
have at your innards *fuck* *swoop*
known to take babies /vom in their babies
laying eggs n i’m sorry but

i’m not birdist but birds i don’t get you
or at least like

i wouldn’t fit in with the fleet or the flock
in formation or otherwise – yeah i’d be
the furthest from the birdest yeah birds like..
you’re raptors
n i’m that kid hiding in the kitchen in j-park

except i’m ready to stab you in the foot with a kitchen knife
yeah carnivore style with opposable thumbs, birds!
n on land n inside there’s no room to fly, birds!
on ground n under where humans gut birds, *fuck*, birds!
we roast you
yeah *you’re good* with all sorts yeah we take the eggs you lay n
fry n roast n cage en masse *well fuck* we grow and drug you birds
vom /it’s fucked /it’s lean protein
it’s omnivore style with opposable thumbs
n free will n greed /again mouths to feed
*all sorts* there’s *all sorts* what am i doing
birds and humans tonnes of difference /whats the difference

food chain hungry /in our case
*greedy* (ask birds if they’re greedy)

food chain hungry birds’ll birds’ll
take and fly they’ll fuckin /birds’ll
dive n snatch n soar away the *fuckin birds* they
claw at me and scream at me with eyes bea-dy
n beaks n i deserve it /”wet my
beak” yeah i deserve it
ambition /yeah that *payout* yeah that
hot meal
for me n mine yeah when i die
(if i remember)
maybe i’ll die near some scavenger birds y’know
give back a bit
redemption and forgiveness
altruism with opposable thumbs, yeah n
ask birds if they have altruistic tendencies

and regardless of their answer (if you get one(?))
scatter my remains along the plains they hunt
*squawk* n i get to get vommed /food chain


ate loads of em

vis-à-vis in relation to these /bless
u bless me with
regards to and concerning
and in terms of and in
the same vein in the
same school of thinking /sinking
shrinking ships i’m flickin chips
/disinterested, distinguished guests once
masticating now digest that
all you can eat chicken wing buffet/AKA
~wing(s?/ed?) wednesdays~

and guess what, i got honorary man o’ the match
yeah 26 wings knocked me for 6 n here i sit

keepin hydrated/stomach gyrates from
inflation n even these sea
faring legs can’t hack it in the kitchen

i stand upright, fightin /chicken on the mind
sea sick /forget chicken/ fingers crossed
digestion quickens n i’m stricken by the
chicken shivers /the shakes and a swig
to steady those hands /one must
cultivate ones own garden so

i get my 2 litres in n i wake up dryer
n on some flyer some drunk man passed me
‘disco from 9, n 5 before 12’ n infinite
chickens do the maths for infinity n
you end up with the entire works of shakespeare (potentially before “the maths” is even done)

n it’s like the last days of rome in here

an eat all you can buffet it’s a
you can eat all if you can it’s an
all of you, eat if you can if you
eat all you can /bill please
bill please/more water
chicken slaughter n i’m ashamed to say
they didn’t taste free-range to a well trained palette/ yeah chickens – i’ve had it /yeah sorry
i’m full / i feel guilty
but i guess i felt less guilty
when i finished you /finished food chain’s fucked mate yeah you fucked it
n yeah you fund it

so repent, repent n will your guilt
to transcend proximity n
apathy n chicken-borne lethargy!

an ode to these/their legacy
from me at least
n this is something of a grace belated, said while bloated
chickens croaked bukaw’d they cawed
we’re wingless we surround you in your
dreams we came and found you
we wing-clipped you / we devoured you

and you were all that could be ate in the name
of some wednesday