The Brext Land

ITV’s Good Morning Britain’s backdrop-countdown to Brexit is a dramatic reminder of what is to come. However, until March 29th we are all of us just speculating, guided by a homunculi Tiresias that lives in ours and others’ ears, themselves just speculating off of the fragments of other speculators spoon fed 24hour news straight out…

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The Royal Wedding— a satirical short story

The Royal Wedding In another dimension where fairness & justice is 5% above our own dimension’s… Harry complains he doesn’t look good in red, it’s his hair. Moreover, why does he have to wear William’s same Irish Guard’s Mounted Officer’s uniform, he looks like a proper twat, why couldn’t he just go to Saville Row,…

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Some things to know about Charlie

While i am here & before i exhaust you with today’s Charlie poem, i want to say that Tim Miller at Underfoot poetry has asked me to be a guest editor, so i am scouting poets. If you’d like 6 poems published, send me 8 to danielpaulmarshall85@gmail.com along with a bio, & a paragraph explaining…

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Body-hairomancy

A grim poem from the Charlie Malurkey cohort of capers & general peculiarities. In short, Charlie reads prophecies in the pubic hair that arranges on his bathroom floor, taking it to be a message from Godly God. Sorry, so sorry. Body-Hairomancy Last night he bothering the audience with messages him got from Godly God, It…

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Flicking through the channels with Pa

i understand people may not understand, perfectly, the language used, it is written using the intonations of my home town of Cannock, back in England, which has a peculiar idiom. It is English, but somewhat truncated, due to a mix of lunacy & bad genes. But there is melody there & i thought it might…

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Austerity of furniture…

Been reading Rolfe Humphries’ translation of Ovid’s Ars Amatoria, which is an excellent translation. He sticks to the hexameters, often employing the anapaest & using internal assonance, which makes for a pleasant music. i have broke with that in places, letting the line run to heptameters or longer, making it a sort of Blakean love…

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Charlie gets Godly God’s memories

The all mighty curator of the universe & tinkerer of Charlie’s Broca’s Area, zaps our hapless hero with memories of his own, from when he took human form during the Influenza of 1918, when a 100 million or so died & Godly God, despite the chaos & tragedy, danced with a dying Spanish woman in…

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The Wipeosaurus Rex

Charlie’s back, well, sort of. All these poems are old. i always have a fuss before i post them, but the bulk is done. Feeling in a Charlie mood so here you go. In this poem, Charlie, strapped for cash, takes a job as a man in a dinosaur suit, to sell paper towels. The…

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