I Am a Woodlouse

I am a woodlouse.

Sometimes people ask me:

‘Got wood?’

or if I am feeling lousy.

I find neither question

particularly amusing,

but then we woodlouse

are not known

for our wonderful sense of humour.

We are actually known

for our ability to roll into a ball

but only the genus armadillidium

of our species can in fact do that…

so there.

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I am a Parrot

I am a parrot.

(I am a parrot! I am a parrot!)

This is apparent.

(This is apparent! This is apparent!)

I like repetition in poems.

(Repetition in poems! Repetition in poems!)

Did you know sick as a parrot,

(Sick as a parrot! Sick as a parrot!)

is an irrelevant saying,

(An irrelevant saying! Irrelevant saying!)

because I am fit as a fiddle.

(Fit as a fiddle! Fit as a fiddle!)

Now get lost

(Get lost! Get lost!)

And get parrot a cracker.

(Parrot want a cracker! Parrot want a cracker!)

Cracker.

Jack.

(Get me a cracker, Jack! Get me a cracker Jack!)

and I’ll get you the gold.

(Get you the gold! Get you the gold!)

We parrots can read maps,

(We can read maps! We can read maps!)

didn’t you know?

(Didn’t you know? Didn’t you know?)

No.

You didn’t know

(You didn’t know! Didn’t know!)

but it is fact.

(It is fact! It is fact!)

Parrot want a cracker.

Parrot want a cracker, Jack.

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I am Lulu.

I am Lulu;

face like a sunflower out of Alice in Wonderland

and a body subjected to the wants of an electric razor.

I am Lulu.

I’m a demander of love,

constant and consistent,

every minute of every hour of every day

in your life belongs to me.

I have commandments.

I am your commander.

Thou shalt not talk to one another

while I am in the room

not getting the attention I crave and deserve.

Thou shalt not shout at me

for barking orders at you to stop.

Stop your talking and start your stroking of stomachs,

as well as the kissing of my face.

Thou shalt not stroke other pets –

particularly that bit of haggis Scottie that shares

my most prized domain which is the washing basket –

or compliment those pets that pass in the street

and brush against those feet

that are mine. That I own.

Thou shalt take me for walks daily

and feed me biscuits every time I come in

and out of the back garden,

for this is my Kingdom,

I’m the power and your owner

forever ’til I die

(in ten to twelve years time).

Amen.

I am a Baby Pigeon.

I am a baby pigeon.

My proud parents made our nested home known

with a black and white Pollock painting

beneath.

I am a baby pigeon.

Born into a destiny of destinations,

the orange letters lit our faces

as though we were a family sitting by a camp fire.

The words illuminated

and removed us;

a spotlight and a rock

and I was gone.

I am a baby pigeon.

Train tracks led both ways

and both ways led to death.

The R.S.P.C.A have no R.E.S.P.E.C.T

for me, my family or what we have been through.

This refugee is nothing new.

If my feathers were orange,

green,

or even blue

I would be loved by you.

I am a baby pigeon.

London grey is my colour,

and London indifference is my right.

It matters not that Cher Ami

was a war hero, or that I am a biblical creature

who can recognise my reflection

and could send messages in the time before texts.

I am a baby pigeon.

I wonder if when R.E.M sang “Everybody hurts”

if Michael Stipe was  including little birds.

I am a baby pigeon.

Now fuck off

because I’m only vermin to you anyway.

I Am A Tortoise.

I am a tortoise,

my poem will take

a while to write,

due to my slow pace

of writing, walking, talking

and any other action

you can think of.

I am a tortoise.

Maybe you should

come back later

when my tortoise poem

will be complete.

All I can say of it now is this:

it will be much more impressive

than that fucking hares.

He will just rush through it

without thought for

word play,

alliteration,

punctuation

or any other things

that go into poems

that I can’t write right now

because my feet are getting cramp

from the exertion of writing.

I am a tortoise.

Come back later.

My poem will be bloody brilliant.

I am a T.Rex

I am a T. Rex.

The most feared creature

and tyrant of all time.

I am also extinct,

which makes the probabilty

of me writing this poem

slim to none.

I am a T. Rex.

I can not do push ups,

but I can rip anything and

everything apart

with my tremendous teeth;

in particular I like vegetarians

because the irony amuses me.

I am the thalidomide child

from a prehistoric era;

but my era is historical

because I am of course

in history

as the greatest and most fearsome

creature of all time.

I am a T. Rex.

Leader of all Lands,

and killed only by something

that came from out of space.

My machismo mass massacre ways

are seen on such films as

Jurassic Park,

Jurassic Park II

and if they bothered to do a third

I was in that too.

I am also the inspiration

behind popular characters

in this modern culture

such as Godzilla and Rex

out of Toy Story.

I am a T. Rex.

My piss-pant inducing prowess

is cartoonized in children’s

t – shirts which depict me

as small, green and cute.

Sometimes a speech bubble

will say “Rawr” in tiny letters

which is wholly unrealistic.

It is indeed fact, that I would deafen

those little toddlers,

and give them the bollocking

of their life, as they listened

in their offensive

and emasculating shirts,

then I would rip them to shreds

to teach them the importance

of respecting your prehistoric elders.

I am a T – Rex.

Now fuck off

before I make you as extinct as me.