London Dada’s belated contribution to national poetry day

Chaspering within a tired bong

Partridges flock to old barons of tulip wandering seagulls.
Chase phrase iron trousers embolden a sighing mouse.
Folded moles grace staplers with an iridescent mumbling,
and behind the poster of Die Hard II, Steven Segal is seen to rise.

Over the lion and out, he is gone!

Purring like a vaporised version of Kenny Dalglish,
the errant marble Jupiter of an old toaster sets forth upon a side lapel.
Segal takes his step and burns dictionaries inside a new folded marzipan otter.
Falcons marvel at his reclining image as it corduroys faster, slower, faster.

Time, like an apple, clocks the disguised form of LL Cool J.

Hektor Hamulec

 

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