Word Collage

I verbalise in collage,

cohesive composition 

spat at the page

in no specific form,

I’m presenting 

microwave meals

as Michelin star ‘scran’

you can’t trust 

my judgement

I grew up in a caravan,

I couldn’t give a toss 

what turns up 

on my plate,

cottage pie 

and beans 

taste 

like acetate, 

slop 

like a flip-flop,

there’s nothing in it,

a pizza shaped 

like a moon 

made of cheese,

the international 

space station

built from pees 

and destroyed 

by a gravy landslide,

cauliflower florets

used as turrets 

to defend against

rabid vegans, 

I can see New Zealand  

in the drug paraphernalia

left outside the studio door,

Bavaria 

in my brown bread

and schnitzel,

status, 

statues,

symbols, 

chess moves,

mass produced goods,

wasted purchase decisions, 

a consumer-schism, 

I verbalise in collage

a record-breaking score

on word-shark,

restorative thought,

cars, a flasks, fake art

students analysing 

the scripts of Groucho Marx

...... boring!

disparaged 

middle class

snobbery, 

scoffs at

the condiment selection,

jailbreaks

juggling plates 

designer fakes,

personas to garner

promotions,

high earners with

zero tax deductions, 

wave motion 

pistols shooting

smack with 

a token tourniquet,

hairs splitting at the end,

track-mark trends,

“1980 was the greatest

time to be a punk rocker”

mohawks down the Goldhawk Road,

The Clash,

I stray whichever way 

the wind takes me 

like the protagonist

from Bohemian Rhapsody,

without the 'gay'  

I verbalise in collage

through overexposure,

reportage seeps

from a multitude 

of media applications,

large, dumb

apprehensions,

reinvention 

of non-education, 

no composure

1.1  seconds 

of a 1.2 exposure,

colour polaroids,

voids, digital noise 

absent from 

analogue film,

redemption, 

it’s a war 

on the camera eye,

why? 

it’s an A.I

take-over, 

technocratic divisions,

pertinent visions

of World War 3

grace the windows

of every newsagent 

war crimes?

I favour treason

over tightly spat

contextual language

designed to manage 

large groups of 

imbeciles scurrying 

like silverfish

in an empty 

bathtub,

it’s a rap 

when I turn 

on the tap, 

cut yourself,

prove to me 

you mean it,

fool’s gold?

go retrieve it,

I verbalise in collage

I barge 

through the crowd

queuing for 

the latest iPhone,

pastel tones 

in a colour chart

describes 

every room

in your home,

...... boring!

I’m disorientated 

with this 

word collage

it’s more a word 

montage of nonsense,

all filler no killer,

efficient murderer?

Peter Sutcliffe 

had it nailed,

tales rewritten

in hiding,

the bible,

springs to mind,

an illusionist 

pinned to a crucifix,

palm injuries ain’t

no easy fix,

anaesthetic 

didn’t exist

in the God ages,

someone give Jesus 

the yellow pages,

apparently there’s 

a small family run business 

specialising in 

reverse impaling,

oh shit,

my word collage

is failing,

falling short 

at the last 

three sentences

 

“delete this”