poems

It’s Bojo the Clown!

~ jim clayton ~ Leave a comment

He runs round the ring with a fireman’s bucket
acting like he’s going to chuck it
stops, goes, stops, goes
pulls out a line of flags and blows his nose
jumps in a fire truck, sneezes
the whole thing falls to pieces
jumps back out, kicks it
fetches a play school toolbox to fix it
a big rubber mallet and a tube of glue
gets his hands stuck fast to his shoe
hops around howling
one minute laughing the next minute scowling
the shoe comes off in his hands; it starts to ring
he scratches his wig and stares at the thing
laughs, gives a shrug
cautiously holds it up to his lug
‘Hello? This is Bojo the clown…’
puts his thumb up, gurns at the crowd
who roar with applause and laugh out loud
but suddenly the lights cut out
and one fierce spotlight picks him out
something’s changed; the act seems different
he’s not so cute and insignificant
he stands there, watching with glittering eyes
‘Yes – they’re ready for their big surprise.’

Captain Brexit

~ jim clayton ~ Leave a comment

Boris Johnson steals a ship

for a crazy ocean-going trip!

Dancing and waving his wooden sword

while coastguards race along the shore

frantically firing off flares and rockets

and anything else they can find in their pockets

to warn him if he leaves the docks

he’ll sink the ship on the harbour rocks

but hey! he’s naughty not nautical

lacking sufficient frontal cortical

to rein in his mutinous fantasies

of piratical battles on the open seas

tongue twisters

~ jim clayton ~ 2 Comments

She sells sea shells on the sea shore
Which is pretty hardcore
given you’re
surrounded by a billion shells or more

How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood
Okay…good!
To begin with, a woodchuck is a North American rodent with a heavy body and short legs
which kinda begs
the question
Why the attraction?
I mean, it’s quite effective in swampy, out of the way spots
but I seriously doubt you’ll recoup your training costs
so…I’m afraid our views on wood management somewhat differ
and if I was you I’d seriously consider
a chipper

Swan swam over the sea! Swim, swan, swim! Swan swam back again! Well swum, swan!
And that’s your full and final statement, is it?
That’s the reason for the late night visit?
You know what? I don’t buy it
Why would a swan swim the sea and not fly it?
So let’s just drop all the bird shit and start from the top.
Tell me who Mr Swan is and who ordered the drop?

The sixth sick sheikh’s sixth sheep’s sick
and from what I’ve heard they’re falling pretty quick
sheikh to sheep, sheep to sheikh
an alarming direction for farming to take
not just the herd but the herders too
in a worryingly novel zoonotic flu
(but according to one veterinarian old-timer
just another case of contagious ecthyma)

Around the rugged rock the ragged rascal ran
(his clothes are only ragged
because the rugged rock’s so jagged
and I don’t know if he’s really a rascal
I mean – you’re welcome to ask all
you like
Mike
but whether he’s on his rock or his bike
he never says a lot
so I’m sorry but that’s the best I’ve got
If you’re really so intrigued by the man in question
come back later’s my best suggestion)

Peter Piper picked up the phone and asked for speech and language therapy

horror movie

~ jim clayton ~ Leave a comment

so…

Jack, Josh and Maurice
are three old friends who get lost in the forest
Jack is a combat fanatic
Josh is a touch asthmatic
Maurice is wistful & charismatic

it starts to rain
again
which is a royal pain
especially over such tangled terrain
although Maurice seems to like it
whistling mournfully while they hike it

next thing you know, they find a cabin
overgrown with brambles & bracken
Josh has started to slacken
so they make the best of it and back in

meanwhile

in a cut that’s carefully scripted
crawling out of a cave no-one knew existed
a monster so terrible it’s positively gifted
sniffs the air with its hooked beak lifted

back at the cabin the boys are panicking
can’t believe this shit is happening
I mean – they like forests and/or travelling
but everything seems to be tragically unravelling

Josh is particularly uneasy
the fire they lit is making him wheezy
so he steps outside for a bit of fresh air
which is why he’s the first to disappear

What the fuck was that? snarls Jack
pulling a knife from his army pack
I’m not entirely sure says Maurice
It looked a little like the old god Horus

Jack stripes his face with a piece of charcoal
does an impressive forward roll
straight out the door but the monster gets him
which Maurice sees and it thoroughly upsets him

‘No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity’
sighs Maurice, who used to be on the Shakespeare committee
of his alma mater fraternity
and so consequently
has a quote for any eventuality

the monster stops mid-crunch
of his extemporary femur-themed lunch
wipes his beak on his feathers
then runs helter-skelter back through the heather
(quite why this is, the script isn’t clear
so I’m guessing the monster just REALLY hates Shakespeare)

the infernal hatcheck guy

~ jim clayton ~ 3 Comments

so I died and went to Hell

(yeah – I know, right?
the second bad thing that happened that night
after pulmonary embolism and cardiac arrest
and a new paramedic who did her best
but was completely exhausted, running late
leading a team that couldn’t wait
to call it
despite her best efforts to stall it
I mean, sure – it was appalling
me up there on the ceiling, calling
but no-one could see or hear me
obviously
a disembodied jimmy
shimmying, flickering
doing a disembodied breaststroke
while a bunch of ghostly folk
beckoned unto me from the nozzle
of a ghastly, ectoplasmic funnel
the feeder of a numinous, neonatal tunnel
that anyone’ll
tell you leads up to the light

shite

well – okay – alright

that’s it

I’ve died and there’s nothing I can do about it
I’ve been fatally out-manoeuvred
I put my hands up and let myself get hoovered

I have to say it was an exhilarating flight
like a vacuumed penny rattling up to the light
I was pretty excited alright
dreaming of all the heavenly crowds
waiting for me up in the clouds
the eternal benefits I’d be allowed
the syncopated trumpet parts
jamming with the other perps and harps
play dates with angels
endless cheese and wine on waitered tables

but uh-oh
whaddya know
Gabriel said no

I said check your list
I insist
I fundamentally do not believe I’ve been missed
You’re an atheist?
he said
nodding his head
in a saintly but faintly patronising kinda way
like he knew exactly what I was gonna say
before I said it

Yeah, I said, but I don’t regret it / I’ve never believed in a vengeful monotheistic deity / but more in a freely loving kinda spontaneity / I mean – how can someone be like ‘I’m all about the love’ / then get the hump and give you the shove / into a lake of eternal fire / just because you say your love’s not for hire? / that sounds more like blackmail / or a dodgy kinda fan mail /
Love like a shadow flies when substance love pursues;
Pursuing that that flies, and flying what pursues.

I’m confused
said Gabriel, stroking his beard
don’t blame me, I just work here
them’s the rules – I don’t make ‘em
I only deal with the ones who break ‘em
So…I’m afraid you’re not down for entry
he said, annoyingly gently
humming, flipping through his list
with a casually ethereal flick of the wrist
(he had a few problems as arbiter of the sky
but one of them obviously wasn’t RSI)

No / I’m sorry – down you go / he said

I flipped on my head
and down I sped

turns out – Hell looks exactly like Heaven
even having
the same kinda pearly gates
but from some cheaper, bargain basement affiliate
hanging off their hinges
skulls and shit on the fringes
a scattering of tarot cards and syringes
and instead of Gabriel standing by
Donald Trump as a hatcheck guy
leaning on his counter like a lectern
watching clips of himself on a projector
his mouth in a pout
his wig in flames that could never go out
‘you like cucumbers?’ he asked as he took my hat
‘O-kay’ I said ‘Let me get back to you on that’

Ghastlybury Festival

~ jim clayton ~ 1 Comment

On the Pyramid Sales Stage:

BJ Johnson & The Old School Kickbacks
Richey Rich Sunak & The Corporate Cashbacks
Mort Handjob & The Splashbacks

In the Little Island Tent:

Ravin’ Williamson & The Witless Paraders
Pitiless Patel & The Choppy Channel Waders
Backstreet Jenrick & The Party Fund Traders

The Robert Peel stage:

Liz Truss & The Chlorinated Chickens
Robbie ‘Rob’ Buckland & The Unlawful Applications
Dominatrix Raab & The Dreadful Vibrations

In the Magical Avalon Marketplace:

Oliver Dowden’s Seaside Clown School
Old Mother Coffey’s Border Gang Patrol

The Michael Glove Puppets

Jacob Rees Mogg

your haunting questions answered

~ jim clayton ~ Leave a comment

Q: Spirits keep restlessly coming & going
fading & flickering, drifting & glowing
we’ve exorcised thoroughly but no luck yet
A: Try rebooting your Ethernet

Q: Demons are nesting up in the attic
and the noise is increasingly problematic
I’d be grateful for any information
A: Follow the link re. insulation

Q: A ghoul is forever moving pictures
shifting tables, loosening fixtures
tossing our plants – it’s driving us screwy
A: A simple case of bad Feng Shui

Q: There’s an entity over the garden lawn
like a numinous ectoplasmic swarm
I threw a net but the damned thing missed ‘im
A: Try holy water on a sprinkler system

this ol’ hound

~ jim clayton ~ Leave a comment

this ol’ hound is proper glitchy
incredibly itchy, unfeasibly twitchy
he harrumphs and garrumphs when he rolls on his back
his big wiry paws paddling then slack
like he’s having a canine heart attack
then he sneezes
freezes
carries on as he pleases

this ol’ hound is proper chaotic
sometimes floppy, sometimes robotic
he runs up the stairs like a rugby team in boots
but he’s sneaky when it suits
creeping round the kitchen to sniff with his snoots
so beware
in there
or you’ll trip and break a hip I swear

this ol’ hound is proper crazy
fifty percent hyperactive, fifty percent lazy
he sleeps so deep you can watch him dream
gamboling through landscapes of rabbits and streams
giant foil trays of doggy supremes
till he wakes with a start
a sad little bark
back to reality with a broken heart

this ol’ hound is proper distracting
it’s impossible to work with the way he’s acting
staring at you long and hard
then marching around the room with a placard
‘Wark!’ (which – you’ll admit – for a dog isn’t bad)
till you crack
fill your pockets with snacks
take him round the park and back

festival of whatever

~ jim clayton ~ Leave a comment

Roll up! Roll up to the Festival of Brexit / a hundred shiny entrances and one shitty exit / it’s too late to reject it / so just shut the fuck up, suck it up & accept it / if you’ve got a bicep flex it / take a selfie and text it / what’s the use in worrying and feeling blue? / (and St George red, and white striped, too) / you can’t deny it / you might as well try it! / we’ve got a Farage barrage balloon and we’re not afraid to fly it

C’mon! Rock n’Roll up! / Put your placards down and stroll up! / to The Great British Jumping Off Zone / with the neon Britannia & megaphone

Try if you dare the Victorian experience / where mutton-chopped Bishops & Presbyterians / whip you with canes and sundry variants / Play Fuck the Scots and Flense the Whales! / See clowns running round with ladders and pails! / Have a go at High Class Hoopla / tossing cock-rings on the marble boners / of as many venerable Land and Slave Owners / as you can muster / play Spotted Dick with Custard! / Play Col Mustard / in the House of Lords / with the nipple clamps and the ceremonial sword / Play Best Foot Forward / Play Old School Tie Reward / Play Light the Lamp / with Boris Nightingale in a transit camp / Dress yourself up like Jacob Rees Mogg / and tap your way through a pea-souper fog / with a silver-topped cane / down Jack the Ripper lane / whistling We’ll Meet Again / Practice your lunges / Throw Poundland sponges / at Liam Fox / squirming and gurning out in the stocks / whilst a crappy fifties jukebox / plays ‘the easiest deal in history’ non-stop

And when you’re hungry – why not try The Bullingdon Club? / for some proper princely posh boy grub / where our team of servile robot staff / are guaranteed to make you laugh / as hard as your betters in the upper classes / who lob buttered rolls at their Teflon arses / (and you may be weak but your eyes are still champion / they DO all look like David Cameron)

Go Ooh! Aah and then some / at the Laser Show Stylings of Davis & Leadsom

Give yourself the shivers / in our Parliamentary Hall of Mirrors / Howl at the blatant economic distortions / legal contortions / catastrophic loss of moral proportions / but my personal fave? / when Dancing Queen plays? / you finally get to move like Theresa May

Jump on the Johnson helter skelter / it’s a patriotic, Blighty belter! / a city suit melter! / from the flag at the top to the homeless shelter

Finally – treat yourself to a Punch & Judy show / because often it’s the simple pleasures, you know / like booing as Mr Punch goes to Barnard Castle / the sneaky, beeny, beaky little rascal! / then groan as Judy stands by / because she’s too much of a puppet to say bye-bye / but cheer as Punch takes back control / treating dissenters like whack-a-mole / That’s the way to do it! That’s the way to do it! / You had the vote folks but you blew it! / roar as he leaves with a box of sausages

…as your smartphone beeps with some urgent messages

the grump

~ jim clayton ~ Leave a comment

who’s house is that?
said the rat
to the crow
I’d love to know!
who lives in a house as white as snow?
it’s whiter than white
so white and so bright
the whole place shines like a star at night
I’d like to see who lives there all right
shall we go tonight?
shall make our visit?
shall we go?
shall we go?
and see who’s in it?

oh no said the crow
oh no no no
I will NOT go
I do NOT want to know
It’s a bad idea to make this visit
to see the white house and the person in it

tell me oh tell me my old friend crow
tell me exactly what it is that you know
about the house on the hill
with the security grille
why do you stop, sir?
why do you hop, sir?
why do you flap and slap and drop, sir?
why do you cry and your black feathers scatter?
why does your cute little crow beak chatter?
tell me oh tell me whatever’s the matter!

it’s the grump!
THE GRUMP!
THAT is why I slump!
That is the reason I stomp and stump!
I will NOT go with you up to the gate
it is much too far and much too late
my wings are tired and my feet aren’t great
I will NOT take you to it!
I will NOT go through it!
I do NOT choose it!
I absolutely REFUSE it!
you can nag
you can beg
but I simply WILL NOT DO IT!

okay
okay
I’m sorry you feel that way
maybe we’ll save it for another day

another day I will not
another day I shall not
another day I have not got

C’mon – the grump? said the rat
fixing his tie and straightening his hat
I’m sorry to hear you feel like that
but just tell me flat
this terrible grump – who on earth is THAT?

the crow came close
closer than most
till they were eye to eye and nose to nose
(or nose to beak
to speak
more accurately
the crow being the one with the beak, quite naturally)

the grump!
the GRUMP!
said the crow with a thump
of one fine feathery fist on the other
(which hardly made any noise whatsoever)
the GRUMP is the creature
who lives in that feature
that the history teachers teach ya
the GRUMP is the guy
who lives inside
and whose visit I have so emphatically denied

yes – but – who EXACTLY is this character?
you’re not the world’s most reliable narrator
if you don’t tell me soon I’ll see ya later

then I’ll tell you said the crow
as the rat turned to go
Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!
I’ll tell you what you want to know
about the Grump who lives in the house made of snow
and I’ll tell it in song with my old banjo…

oh no
on no
not the old banjo
said the rat
nixing him flat
I do NOT want to know
if it means another shitey old crow show
just tell me simply, nice n’slow
tell me the one thing I want to know
who IS this grump and why does he matter?
and please be quick because I’ve got a full bladder

the crow sighed
threw his banjo aside
sadly shook his head
and this is what he said

the grump is the president or was till they voted
when they called the count and he was supposed to be demoted
but he lost his mind and clings on to power
snapping towels at his aides from the shower
oh don’t make me do it!
I won’t take you to it!

okay fine – FINE – said the rat
I can understand that
he sounds a bit of a sulky brat

he is said the crow
but it’s worse than you know
he will not leave the house of snow
he stamps and he shouts
and they cannot get him out
they can not make him, he will not go
no no
he will not
and his face is red and his wig is shot
and when they say he is done he says he is NOT
and something else I’ve momentarily forgot

but c’mon! said the rat – there are legal channels
for the extrication of recalcitrant mammals
yeah? said the crow
he’s got nuclear codes
so tell me – what ELSE would you like to know?

(with a nod, apology & much love to Dr Seuss)