On Radio Four the poet's voice
Never giggles and does not wink,
But repeats, in lucid prosy verse
The things we know we ought to think.
Whilst Kev, at Peckham open mic
Is seething to affront.
His spittle sprays the audience,
And each third word is cunt.
Yes, verse can preach and verse can rant,
But the best verse can surprise,
So that we think, That's what I felt,
But didn't realise.
If you've any comment on these poems, George Simmers would be pleased to hear from you.