Countdown to Poem-A-Thon

Poem-A-Thon Poster

With less than 2 weeks until the awesome Poem-A-Thon for MSF and refugees, I can excitedly share that the event has already rasied over £7,500 (that’s lots of $$’s, especially given that poets and friends of poets are the ones raising the cash!)

I’ve already begged for your contributions in this earlier post, and now I’m repeating myself. The stories of what refugees are going through is horrific. The cause for most of the pain is generally due to the anger and ineptitude of our own governments (UK, US, European), so here they come – the non-extreme, bits of families, doctors, chefs, designers, writers, gardeners – here they come seeking refuge and opportunity. If you can help the excellent work of Medicines Sans Frontier, by donating £10 or more to this poemathon, it will make a real difference to some random, foreign, unknown somewhere (someone who will never know that you even bothered).

My just giving page

My attempt at A Haiku about the event:

Low red Bedouin moon
Dawn shoreline, the crisp blue Med.
Words chill London air

Thank you for reading and supporting the plight of other human beans.

60 poets will be reading from 12pm-10pm and if you can get to Vout-O-Reenee’s surrealist club on Saturday 5th December, entry is free and you are bound to hear some magic and meet some fabulous people.

Poem-a-thon 5 Dec for MSF UK

Utterly forgot to promote this in the one space where readers appear to appreciate the work that goes on here…!


Saturday 5 December, starting at 12PM, 60 people will read poetry throughout the day, in total 10 hours of words will be spilled onto floors of the Vout-O-Reenee’s Club, a few hundred yards from the Tower.

The money raised goes to Medicine Sans Frontiers refugees work and we (the Poem-A-Thon team) already added £6,000 to the coffers. We each get 8 minutes and hit list so far is:

The Cool Web, Robert GravesInjustice, Pablo NerudaMCMXIV, Philip Larkin

Still not decided final but these three should sound a suitably solemn note… Any suggestions welcome, there is still the possibility that i’ll read one of mine, but as yet these greats have me filling the 8 mins well enough.

As you can see to date I’ve found the support of a few good donors. Having realised we’ve only 2 weeks to go, it’s time to shake that internet tree and see what fruits land in aide of MSF and their impeccable record on refugee support. So if you’ve ever found yourself contemplating the plight of refugees – please give generously! For direct donations to my efforts, please click the screenshot above… For donations to the Team, click the team link above.

Kind thanks from South London!

Chewing it over

Bite chew swallow big bite long chew

A thousand made up half made thoughts
Invade my concave mind
I find
A hundred maybe less I grasp
And try to keep them to a side
Yet every day
More thoughts invade
I lose so much in time

Then somedays
Caught on curves
An idea comes to mind

Here in this brief fleet
I play
Tugging sharp and forced
Until that one kept idea lays
Ripped through
And worse

Alas the balance seldom wins
So few these great thoughts rain
Into another day
A thousand thoughts
Swirl in and out my brain
As watching them I bite and chew
Bite chew slow
And swallow


Ramble, ramble, rumble
In her thighs in succulent thighs
ramble, humble, mumble
Thick in lies
Luscious lies.

As all we wait for something
we can never realise
and burn this twinkling life you hate
and start so many fires…
The answers we may never grasp
while reasons turn to lies
Even as the moths of death
circle nightly skies

A self-wrapped life is meaningless
and pocketed with lies
Just as sorrow for our selfishness
shows up your mortal eyes.

To Each Their Own

Everybody’s different baby
And they’re not ALL after you
You can appreciate others pathways
Don’t waste thought
on what they think of you.

Chill out, like a cucumber,
Live like it’s all about you
Kerb the melancholy that pokes your days,
don’t let your sad juice bleach all blue

Where does all this ire rise from
Who made your life so dire
Perhaps you need awakening
Something to re-fire those hearts desire

Morning Tongue

Morning tongue my furry pink pal
It’s time now to wriggle
and rise up, yes now
Are you ready to lick on at life
and click time
In my warm cosy head
Are you fine with this mind?

So my morning tongue, bit swollen:
Furred with our parties of night
last night
In today’s clean morning promise
Get ready to translate –
To curl and roll over
To cut and rebut
And be nice

Poor Stoney’s Plans Scuppered Again

He happened upon a bath
in which he figured ‘t would be a laugh,
that – sunk in that bath he’d sit
and lick smoke from a lazy spliff!

Huddled down and soaking clean
A joyous feeling crept inside
and with the tide, thoughts lapped at dreams –
clambered grimly bridges wide –
and, lightly grasped a brighter side…

From such elation…
Surely a humbling height from which to tumble!
The ensuing reversal of fortunes
reads adverse and, at worse, prompts distortions:

…You astute will have spotted a cloud (rich and green –
with poor Stoneys name scrawled in big curls
whisps and whirls)
well this cloud sought escape;
as befits such big green!

As would happen that day there were sniffers about
Sniffing a smell that they’d all then sniff out!!
So this brought them flocking (think the wind changed, twice!)
with their noses all up, and – all twitching like mice…

Thus they sniffed him out –
Dragged him out –
Threw him out and
Locked him out!
…erroneous twerps, I hear you mutter – utterly fair…
And here you have entered
so late in my day
I’ve been washed, mashed, bashed, hassled:
I feel half blown away!

Tonight indeed the green is mean,
lovingly sweet and judiciously keen!
Now is time, to brightly fly –
Paint your own pictures on this blue sky!

Bath smoke sketch