Feek Stink

Mostly a sock is much the same as the next.
Designers agonise over shades and logos
for a tube to keep stench off your boots.

Posh shops know this and wrap them well.
Each sock cosseted in tissue and branded silk,
inside a solid shiny box tied with a bright ribbon.

The quality of these socks is only perceived.
They won’t last as long or stop your new shoes
blistering your ankle; you’ve paid for packaging.

A person is a bag of bodily functions, attitudes
and ape imprinting with feet that stink up shoes.
A pretty ribbon is rarely worth the higher price.

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Rules of the Bag Lady

Oil and water don’t
need separate bags
not like a dead badger.

And a prawn sandwich.

Those don’t mix well.

They don’t tell.

How to bag up
your things right.

You have to learn
who’s good company.

To live on my street.

Outside your home,
a hungry fool is
just another stiff.

Dead body wearing
my new dry shoes.

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Repulsing Around

I tire of this game.
Understanding the rules
most poorly puts me
out of bounds
each and every round.
So I’ve turned
it against them.

Continue reading »

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