Some sadness
Can't be burnt away
You'd get asbestosis
From the smoulder
You've got to wait
For brittleness
It's chips away
As you get older.

Once
Love handles
Now
Just grips
Unhandled.

The dreams of meals past
Visited me last night
And made me
Revisit all my waste
By Christ there was
A lot of it
Hard to take it in
Talk about
Repent in haste

Is it better
To **** little
And often
Or go for the
Bread and butter
Clean out?
I'm getting
Conflicting opinions
Down the pub
Cos you only get
So much mileage
When it comes to
Human silage
You'll get your
Comeuppance
There's the rub.

The trees shake with fear
The beast is drawing near
You can hear
Its roar and rattle from
Afar
The bins will soon be empty
The dragon feeds aplenty
On our packaging
And food wastage
Oh la la!

Stephin Merrit said
Every day in every way
I'm getting worse and worse
That must have been said before
Simple ******* in reverse
A fine counterpoint to Emile Coue's
Daft pronouncements
The late nineteenth century's
Proto Noel Edmonds.