I hold the floor

though few here care

that paupers share

my bilious core,

my bilious core

that paupers share

though few here care

I hold the floor.


I hold the floor

as livewires think

of subjugation

my focused nation

my focused nation of subjugation

as livewires think

I hold the floor.


I hold the floor

can do no more

one knife wield plunge

my job is done.

My job is done

one knife wield plunge

can do no more

I hold the floor.

© Pat Mellow 2018 (published in Havik)





A Mouth Full of ‘Hood


A Colner called Nelson opened that day’s saunter –

a roving tour of Forever; Together, Again, Fallen –



past Farmfoods plastic and San Miguel past it

to Tansey, Shepherd and Deborah Kay,

Clark, Baxter, Diggins and Hartley.



Farran, Afzal, Gildea with Bhakti,

Bracewell, Whalley, a Kelly and Masih.

Omerod, Collis, Heap then Peel,

Clive the Koppite by Red Devil Chris Lees.



Atkinson ‘entered into his saviour’s car’ as did

Kenneth Garlick, Swarbrick, Nazar.

Dorothy May Worn: your stone so small;

the Headlams larger, austere, unadorned…


Phyllis – as Samana – has an ice-cream cone;

Clive his pool balls; Holland ‘the Scholar’, seeming at home.



But ABCB, ‘Elijah 4 Taylor‘ Tony!


That was then, a Leeds deserted

’cept for your pen and those swazzed stones and

my Mum upset at your V’d tear-up

over Yorkie scum and their fascist furore.



Perhaps collected Nelsoners might be a sign of peace.

Of Popoweitz and Aslam and Marian‘s Deidre


goggles grinning strangely ever more.


Moses with Munro, Tempest with Fanny.

All interred at Winewall, ‘God bless cock’ and Dr Malik,


Gus Am Bris La’John Bazley.



Houghton, Nancarrow, Seel, Shutt and Gill,

Brunskill and Hassan, Waheed, Phelan

the thurible of white sense


– must now bed down in na flaithis

with umani chaat Jannah.


© Pat Mellow 2018




Great Weavers

This communique solemnly informs all concerned
that the PCCP will not tolerate
the conspiratorial tone and undoubted
chicanery of the aggressors who
attempt to face us down.

All provocation is met
with scorn, merely fuelling
the fire within
our literate
bellies this time, and every time,
and is ultimately futile.

The Great Leader (praise
be to LM and LKJ) watches over
our nation to ensure the detritus and doggerel
will be swept away thereby
guaranteeing a glorious and bountified
syllabic future for us all.

© Pat Mellow 2016


Third Forty-five



Miles                              chases

p    i ano .                                                                                                                                   Follows

stead bass,
coupled                        with                                                                           that



cym       bal

patter, p-i-n-n-ed. By fatter bangers


                                                                           pow                         derd                            turn
my              now                backdrop
                         to                            these                               broke                bars


of how                                               to take                                          two

tunes, say Hov, trance, down pitched, half-speed, merge get a third,
4 B!

Like   combine…   ……to throw

acrossstraight Murphy

John, Yoko.

[Break for the break]

But are there any more breaks for thee?

No more a writer than Futura arranged flowers, phrr!                            Soak in, in, in.

                       Instead                              a                       Ger- %$main germ



from Miles: his harvest comes                                                                                  then a note

tulip___________________________________________________________________-s gliss-
-endos twixt
black and white, a counter point.

© Pat Mellow 2018



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