Regent Street

30th June 2011

I want to go more oval in the face
or perhaps triangle
this is a sonata for spoiling eyes
a book left open in the rain
I’m sitting on an egg timer
I don’t know
what a sonata is but is sounds
good with my morning coffee
who can water these belching eyes?
stroll past All Souls
today’s morning lesson is on birds
WHO is the you in this?
“glad I’m not wearing those cream shoes”
suitcase: ROLL ROLL ROLL

1st July 2011

ode to Nero
I suck yr warm frothy milk
oh frothjoy
on fashion street
today two women sit on steps
next to Ponti’s pizza
smoking sipping
hand signals
cozy morning animals
it’s Friday and the beginning of July
for two weeks hazed
into new job
a week of metallic throat
& flem
I need to wake up

the sign on the corner
says 271 Regent Street: flexible

the underground has tweaked out my nose!

I’ve got to remember I’m
a visitor


an alien & a resident
so as to be

this path is full of pre-chewed
leaf shadows & bright reflections

in the garden’s of Nero

in Rose of York

insert yr hairy tale

hairs in the nose grab debris

whose nose? whose debris?

big mamma lick my stick

take yr places please!

6th July 2011

Nero. 271 Regent Street. Shuffles in power suit
gawk ward
in high heels

bags slung over

a sip and a drag

what does it feel like
to be human?

it rained

there are puddles

the world grew very small

how did you get in them

a poke behind the sun

shiny faces nose skin
double dragging
on the way to the office

the London College of Fashion
is behind Ponti’s

a day of light slaps

this poem is called

i have an inkling!

I have a coat I don’t have a coat
and that’s how
this day goes

7th July 2011

Regent Street



new allergy pill
only three hacks
into tissue
and now I’ve got an ilk
no sunny hills
i watch my jaw move
as i write

lookin at passerbys

what’s in THAT BRAIN?


Are you a fan of Ezra Pound?
Richard Parker is
he made a conference
I like his Mtns of California

a skirt with strawberries on a rainy Tuesday

“I’m not feeling particularly bad today”



Robert Elms
John the jazzman
the Hanging Gardner of Babylon
Stoke Newington High Street

11th July 2011

Nero. Regent Street. Got all my stamps. And now a free froth joy! I went to Folkstone and my face redenned it is still. The morning sun shines upon it. There is no rock to sit upon. From miles around and to no purpose flies and insects come hither. on my right a middle aged woman rummages a handbag on my left an older man with cane coughs into his hanky and in front a man plays with his Kindle. Where did I place my drive?

hair tut tut tut!!!

I have too much
in my bag
in my pocket
in my head
oh no ya
to punt
another man’s
I will buy
a new shirt today
I’m no longer
on the mtn

14th July

In twenty years I’ll be dead
or alive
but less likely

made of this feverish culture
charge instant steal plate
called me entirely
with gray matter
with everything
already there
I shall be
someone else
wiggle under
the colours
this is not
the music
of the universe
candy ass
of childhood
I’ll blow you a bone
for the library
of congressional
you better
what you have
human skin

relaxin into a straight jacket
positive charge negative charge

what’s left?

still reading into life
fill in the blanks later

Published by Marcus Slease

Born in Portadown, Northern Ireland, Marcus Slease has made his home in such places as Turkey, Poland, Italy, South Korea, the United States, Spain, and the United Kingdom – experiences that inform his nomadic surrealist writing. His latest book is Never Mind the Beasts (Dostoyevsky Wannabe 2020).

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