Nursery Rhymes for Geraldine

 

 

fuck a loveity                                do da day

fuckity loveity duckity                day

fuck-a-luck

 

love-a-duck                                  lawks!

fuckity loveity                             doo daa

 

aye.

 

OLDE ENGLISH VERSE

 

 

Scat Heraclitus I

Summ’at of a gentrified jester

this iz-a-biz what

country, what hare-pigeons

What? I am packing

boxes with pale hair

already tied in ribbons, bewildered

Have we seen it yet? The movie

the hell real short-stop pumpkin

popcorn. Are we meant yet? The movie

The real movie is hell to pay for

Ah be slippin’ & crowns follow

my bump, bump down the stairs

a vendor selling enamel for nails
to harden maybe I’ll brush it on

my tears. Stop yourself they tell

you. I see no picture, what picture?

Focus frigger. Do.

 

 

 

In The Nursery

Forfeit it
the rhyme
beats down
like the sun

I hold it
it cries
I goo at it
it wets itself

& me
have to
change it
Mr. Wet-pants again.


 

 

 

Scat Heraclitus II

If Lima be willin’

sweet bean hurry me up


to the flower-tower
I engage drastically

C’mon, show me it is good

for now or

never in the next liberation

of the house of echo

hours fast forward & then
pause. Rope she is flaxen
molten crinoline with braided

trim, cower your arms

are over your head your
hands are holding each other
your uterus is endangered because

it is that much is all

lilly forgets. Rose for hate if
yellow, white if for death
becomes endless nights

for no-one in particular


Echo, wind that clutches
your heart like a coyote.

 

 

 

 

 

A Dittle
Litty

 

When the jade moon

of Tonga calls
for the last escape
we’ll be riding eggs
& entrails tick &
flow round as
mountains ripe
as grapes of rot
when we come

rip ash grave rot
welsh she strums
a cracked pot
when we come

When the dashing man

of the Shaved Head
smiles, his teeth appear
yellow & ungainly rousing
no rabble rouser finger laid
in the steaming depression fits
perfectly

we’ll be gluein’ bodies
strummin’ belly-bumpin’ round
the mountain strumpet
hound jello-grubbin’
when we come

When fossils made of ice

hang rusty & enchanted & ducks
have re-routed Stella falls
from the sky legs taut
lands on concrete & says
her head has not cracked

as these knees have
bruised on frozen piles of dog
manure & bright yellow
urine trinkles, steam rising up
in small but determined wisps

We’ll be shovellin’

shit ruby kraut save
shot round the mountain

Rub doubt crave sod

Wench, she comes.

 

[Sascha A. Akhtar has crafted six metaphysical poetry collections, a short story collection Of Necessity And Wanting embracing social realism and a volume comprising a biography and first time translations of Hijab Imtiazs' little known manuscript Adab-E-Zareen upcoming in 2022 with Oxford University Press. Akhtar is a Poetry School tutor and lecturer at the University of Greenwich. She performs internationally, some highlights include the Emirates Festival of Literature 2022 and Rotterdam Poetry Festival 2012.  Latest writings appear in the Prototype Annual 4, Cut-Purse (Tangerine Press, 2022), Of Myths and Mothers anthology 2022 and Lucy Writers Platform. Akhtar has poetry forthcoming with both Intergraphia and Haverthorn Press.]

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