My redeeming factor

Is making pain

somehow poetically poetic;

the denigrated dirt,

and the vile, vomit-inducing reality,

covered with a smooth, slick sheen,

the powerful presentation of words.

So the self-involved, self-deluded,

Ignorant imbeciles



Press in and point to

Class and cleverness

intellectualising their ignorance.

Perhaps pitying

the wobbly wiggly whale,

Mistaking it for

The jolly jig of

the piggy pig

Hungry for the humour,

clamouring for the comedy of the company clown

They blibber and blabber

And admire the blubber

And place the putrid on a pedestal.


You’re fucking fat.

But we love you for that.”

The pompous, patronising voice of

patriarchy is poisoning the population.

But thank you for believing I’m worth it

For valuing me with shades of virulence.

To eternally embrace the evanescence

Of historical happiness

Is to be rewarded with invading interviews;

The shouts and screams of ten thousand teenagers,

haunting howls of housewives,

Peppering and piercing passivity with ‘preach!’

But nil, nada, nothing has been accomplished.

Out of the fatty frier, into the fiery furnace.

I am a repulsive mess

A swamp of sickening sights

a massive mountain,

a porker of epic proportions.

My redeeming factor

is turning lavish lashings to laughter.


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