Brian Bilston

@brianbilston.bsky.social

26443 Followers 528 Following

I write poems. Shows: https://brianbilston.com/events/ Books: https://brianbilston.com/books/

A poster advertising our gig this Thursday at the Water Rats in London, alongside Jetstream Pony and Railcard.
A pic advertising my list of shows for my autumn 2026 tour: Aberdeen; Aberystwyth; Bakewell; Bellaghy; Bridport; Bristol; Bude; Bury St Edmonds; Cardiff; Cardigan; Chorley; Colchester; Corsham; Coventry; Croydon; Darwen; Deal; Edinburgh; Exeter; Glasgow; Guildford; Harpenden; Helmsley; Kidderminster; Leeds; Liverpool; London; Loughborough; Malton; Manchester; Monmouth; Newark; Norwich; Oxford; Pocklington; Sheffield; Stamford; Stirling; Stroud; Sunderland; Ulverston; Winchester; Worthing.
A poster advertising gig featuring Brian Bilston and the Catenary Wires, Jetstream Pony and Railcard on 9th July at the Water Rats near King’s Cross in London.
A poster advertising my Edinburgh Fringe Show at the Assembly Rooms between 24th and 30tj August.
Refugees They have no need of our help So do not tell me These haggard faces could belong to you or me Should life have dealt a different hand We need to see them for who they really are Chancers and scroungers Layabouts and loungers With bombs up their sleeves Cut-throats and thieves They are not Welcome here We should make them Go back to where they came from They cannot Share our food Share our homes Share our countries Instead let us Build a wall to keep them out It is not okay to say These are people just like us A place should only belong to those who are born there Do not be so stupid to think that The world can be looked at another way (now read from bottom to top) Brian Bilston
A pic advertising my list of shows for my autumn 2026 tour: Aberdeen; Aberystwyth; Bakewell; Bellaghy; Bridport; Bristol; Bude; Bury St Edmonds; Cardiff; Cardigan; Chorley; Colchester; Corsham; Coventry; Croydon; Darwen; Deal; Exeter; Glasgow; Guildford; Harpenden; Helmsley; Kidderminster; Leeds; Liverpool; London; Loughborough; Malton; Manchester; Monmouth; Newark; Norwich; Oxford; Pocklington; Sheffield; Stamford; Stirling; Stroud; Sunderland; Ulverston; Winchester; Worthing.
Unhappy Birthday to Me    It’s important to share, or so I’ve been taught,  to show kindness to others, to be a good sport.  But all of those teachings have taken a bump –  for I share my birthday with Donald Trump.    For years I knew not of this dark, dreadful fate,  and with ignorant bliss I honoured the date –  but then it got hijacked, sullied, gazumped  by a self-serving bigot, a foul gibberlump.     With him, I would share an infectious disease,  a mouldy bread roll, an infestation of fleas,  a romantic weekend at a toxic waste dump – but please, not my birthday, Mr. Tangerine Chump.    Alternative dates he’s welcome to try –   12th Febtember, 33rd July. But 14th June? In a lake, take a jump and find a new date, you deranged sewage pump.  Brian Bilston
Reader/Traveller Upstanding citizen, pillar of the community, champion of all that is right and proper in this world, denizen of the bibliosmia, scrutiniser of shelves, peruser of tables, stroker of spines, cool arbiter of good taste and sparkling judgement, unseen comrade, poet-in-waiting – as you hurtle through these pages, it may interest you to know that no local economies were harmed in your purchasing of this book. Appropriate taxes have been paid. The commander of the Starship Monetise has a few less pence in his pocket for a new space rocket, and meanwhile, in a galaxy not so far, far away – in your own town or village, in fact – the real hero of this story readies for lift-off. Fuel levels, boosters and life support systems checked, the door of the bookshop is opened and in come the travellers in search of new worlds.
(Billionaire) Trillionaire in a Midlife Crisis   He’s swapped designer jeans and flashy cars For designer spacesuits and trips to Mars Where he watches Earth turn on its axis With its stupid people paying taxes He’s indulging all his whims and vices He’s a (billionaire) trillionaire in a midlife crisis   He’s got plans to end world poverty Once his new hair’s lost its novelty He’s dropping rap tracks and dissing pronouns His kids have names they cannot pronounce He’s choosing who his next young wife is He’s a (billionaire) trillionaire in a midlife crisis   He’s an outspoken champion of free speech With a mute button in easy reach He’s building an army of online abusers More spambots equals more X-users Cause he’s been left too long to his own devices If truth be told, he’s not the nicest I hope he comes down with (gastroenteritis) pneumoencephalitis He’s a (billionaire) trillionaire in a midlife crisis Brian Bilston
Keepie Uppies writing poems about keepie uppies is very difficult I've found because you think it's going really well but then it ends up on the ground
Fifty Ways to Score a Goal tap in, toe poke, thunderbolt, backheel, nutmeg, stinger, glancing header, mis-hit cross, rebound, blaster, zinger goalkeeping blunder, penalty, curler, sidefoot, prod, scissors, volley (full and half) scorcher, Hand of God rocket, drill, fire, lash it in, bundle, drive, stab, chip, screamer, belter, slam, caress, bum, shin, chin, knee, hip diving header, outrageous lob deflection, quick free-kick finesse, stroke, steer, walk it in, dink, punt, slot and flick
A pic of my football poems book.
A poster advertising my show at the Assembly Rooms in Edinburgh between 24 - 30 August.
A photo of me and my cat advertising my appearance at the Nottingham Poetry Festival on Saturday 6th June.
What Don Corleone Did Next    upon retiring  from the mafia,   he wove aquatic mammals  out of raffia    let me tell you  how I learnt this news:    he made me an otter  I couldn’t refuse  Brian Bilston
A pic of all of us in The Verb studio.
The Problem of Writing Poems in Hot Weather The problem of writingpoems inhot weather isthatthe words getsweaty and sticktogether. BrianBilston
A pic advertising my list of shows for my autumn 2026 tour: Aberdeen; Aberystwyth; Bakewell; Bellaghy; Bridport; Bristol; Bude; Bury St Edmonds; Cardiff; Cardigan; Chorley; Colchester; Corsham; Coventry; Croydon; Darwen; Deal; Exeter; Glasgow; Guildford; Harpenden; Helmsley; Kidderminster; Leeds; Liverpool; London; Loughborough; Malton; Manchester; Monmouth; Newark; Norwich; Oxford; Pocklington; Sheffield; Stamford; Stirling; Stroud; Sunderland; Ulverston; Winchester; Worthing.
This is Hardchore Scrub me. Buff me. Get down on all fours. Fill me. Stack me. Rummage through my drawers. Rinse me. Spin me. Tumble dry my mind. Press me. Fold me. Drape me on your line. Grout me. Scour me. Make my fittings gleam. Bleach me. Teach me. Squirt your Mr Sheen. Plump me. Pump me. Fill my tank with fuel. Dust me. Suck me With your crevice tool. Sift me. Sort me. Crush me with your weight. Stuff me. Tie me. Put me out by eight.
The Last Bee    After the last  ee  had  uzzed its last  uzz,  the  irds and the  utterflies  did what they could.     ut soon the fields lay  are,  few flowers were left,  nature was  roken,  and the planet  ereft.  rian ilston
A poster featuring Dr John Cooper Clarke, advertising our 25th July gig at the Cambridge Corn Exchange.
This is Not the Poem I Had Hoped to Write   This is not the poem I had hoped to write when I sat at my desk and the page was white. You see, there were other words I’d had in mind, yet this is what I leave behind.   I thought it was a poem to eradicate war; one of such power, it would heal all the sores of a world torn apart by conflict and schism. But it isn’t.   Lovers, I’d imagined, would quote from it daily, Mothers would sing it to soothe crying babies. And whole generations would be given new hope. Nope.   I had grand aspirations. Believe me, I tried. Humanity examined with lessons applied. But the right words escaped me; so often they do. Have these in lieu. Brian Bilston
A poster for my appearance at the Nottingham Poetry Festival next month on 6th June.
Life of a Naturalist   it’s his birthday and the sloths are up early for once the flamingos line up in pink, long-legged salute the birds of paradise parade in their finest the elephants blow their trumpets the blue whales gush with joy the gorillas act out stories of his visits the lions lay off the wildebeest for one day and stand together on the Serengeti plain the lyre birds sing his voice in tribute the seals cannot stop clapping and the ostriches urge us to listen to him and not bury our heads in the sand   Brian Bilston
A poster advertising my show at the Dorchester-on-Thames Festival today.
Why You Should Never Ever Follow Your Dreams   I followed my dream, only to find it was the one of me, in the playground, with no underwear on. Brian Bilston
Wild Weekend   Sunday – and the squirrels are lazing in their branches, the sheep are congregating for morning service, and the bears are sleeping off their sore heads.   The sloths are taking things slow, the hippos are wallowing, the cats are curling up on the newspaper in front of the television. The alpacas will spend the day in their fluffies.   Not everyone is taking it easy. The deer are up already for a walk around the park. The ducks are planning a trip across the lake. The salmon have gone wild swimming.   The snails are pottering about the garden, while the crows scan its aisles for materials and prepare for an afternoon of DIY. The pigeons have split up: some are hanging around the shopping centre, others will head over to the cricket. The lions are having an old friend over for dinner, the camels are baking, the spiders are browsing their webs, and the humans…   the humans are wondering where the weekend has gone, and questioning the natural order of things.   Brian Bilston
Anniversary      I forgot, I said,    but since when was our love built    on anything so ordinary    as a date?       Let other couples mark time.   I am too caught up    with the here and the now of you   to waste these hours   in commemoration of the past.   Because our love is vast,   like an ocean,    with depths far beyond    others’ comprehension.   Why spend our lives swimming circles    in the muddy puddle    of convention?      Flowers fade.    Chocolates get eaten.   By such ephemera,    we should judge our love not.      And you said,    what do you mean,    you forgot?   Brian Bilston
Billionaire in a Midlife Crisis   He’s swapped designer jeans and flashy cars For designer spacesuits and trips to Mars Where he watches Earth turn on its axis With its stupid people paying taxes He’s indulging all his whims and vices He’s a billionaire in a midlife crisis   He’s got plans to end world poverty Once his new hair’s lost its novelty He’s dropping rap tracks and dissing pronouns His kids have names they cannot pronounce He’s choosing who his next young wife is He’s a billionaire in a midlife crisis   He’s an outspoken champion of free speech With a mute button in easy reach He’s building an army of online abusers More spambots equals more X-users Cause he’s been left too long to his own devices If truth be told, he’s not the nicest I hope he comes down with gastroenteritis He’s a billionaire in a midlife crisis Brian Bilston
Word Crunching I  wrote  a poem  on a page  but then each line grew  to the word sum of the previous two  until I began to worry about all these words coming with such frequency  because as you can see, it can be easy to run out of space when a poem gets all Fibonacci sequency  Brian Bilston
An Invention of Collective Nouns   A reckoning of spreadsheets. A distraction of smartphones. A prattle of podcasts. A mispronunciation of scones.   A clique of photographers. A heard of precedents. An enjambment of poets. A grope of presidents.   A pile of haemorrhoids. A bunion of personal trainers. A bout of estimations. A condescension of mansplainers.   A stroke of geniuses. A spot of adolescents. An embarrassment of Richards. A collection correction of pedants. Brian Bilston
A poster advertising my forthcoming festival appearances: 28 Apr: Guernsey: Literature Festival 30 Apr: Wrexham Carnival of Words 1 May: Tunbridge Wells Literary Festival (sold out) 2 May: Dorchester-on-Thames Festival 9 May: Filey Literature Festival 3 Jun: Leek Arts Festival 4 Jun: Chester Literature Festival 6 Jun: Nottingham Poetry Festival
Index of Poems I Shall Never Write (Don’t Tell Me About) Your Brand New Podcast p. 42 At the Alphabetti Spaghetti World Championship Final p. 32 Bad Hare Day p. 40 Easy Peelers are Not the Only Fruit p. 52 I’m in Love with the Woman in the Green Cardigan in the BBC Question Time Audience p. 58 Kim Kardiganashian p. 45 Life Hacked p. 60 Linked In, Dropped Out p. 27 Mister Krankie Meets the Clambake King p. 14 Nocturnal Blossoms: Petals of the Moon p. 18 On Sleeping in a Dudley Travelodge p. 68 On Waking in a Dudley Travelodge p. 3 Poem for Silt Awareness Day p. 6 She Never Did Care for Hollyhocks p. 23 Shit! It’s Jeremy Clarkson! p. 1 Sixty-Four Failed Attempts to Guess a Wi-Fi Password p. 64 Taking Cocaine with Wendy Cope p. 9 Ten Unexpected Items to Find in a Bagging Area p. 50 The Last But One Will and Testament of Brian Horatio Bilston p. 55 Third Wordle War p. 47 Untitled p. 21 What We Currently Know and Don’t Know about Gnomes p. 31 Whither the linnet? p. 10 Yes, I Know It’s Called ‘Petrichor’ p. 34 Your Spatula p. 37 Brian Bilston
The Cost of Loving I love you more than life itself but I swear I’ll love you better if you let me turn the heating off and you wear another sweater. I cannot get enough of you – I’m completely in your thrall. I love to watch you bending over to unplug the telly at the wall. Yes, you’re the only one for me, my sweet and fragrant flower – now you’ve ditched your daily bath for a cost-efficient shower. Make no mistake, I love you loads, you send my head into a spin. Our cycle’s set to eco-wash: let’s cram as much as we can in. My cup of love’s full to the brim, it overflows, my petal. So make yourself a brew with me, but don’t overfill the kettle.
A pic advertising my list of shows for my autumn 2026 tour: Aberdeen; Aberystwyth; Bakewell; Bellaghy; Bridport; Bristol; Bude; Bury St Edmonds; Cardiff; Cardigan; Chorley; Colchester; Corsham; Coventry; Croydon; Darwen; Deal; Exeter; Glasgow; Guildford; Harpenden; Helmsley; Kidderminster; Leeds; Liverpool; London; Loughborough; Malton; Manchester; Monmouth; Newark; Norwich; Oxford; Pocklington; Sheffield; Stamford; Stirling; Stroud; Sunderland; Ulverston; Winchester; Worthing.
The Question    Erm, well – I begin, shifting nervously in my chair –  if it’s true there is no heaven and no hell,   no eternity or long hereafter,   no divine plan or offstage direction from an invisible hand,  then how do we make sense of it all,  how do we make our way through this life, this glorious, ridiculous, ramshackle world of ours,  with its wars and brutality, conflicts and petty arguments,  the ten thousand tiny acts of kindness   which happen unnoticed before breakfast,  and all that love and pain, happiness and loneliness  that comes to us unannounced, by turns,   as if we ourselves were pitched daily   onto the waves of one of its vast, mysterious oceans,  not knowing whether today is the day we drown  or we find ourselves washed up   on some strange but friendly shore?     Mmm – you say, after a lengthy silence –  what I meant was … do you have any questions   about the job?  Brian Bilston
Utterly Betrayed   The Rt Hon. Ralph St John Cholmondley having moped around glolmondley for three weeks in Belvoir with glandular felvoir, decided to surprise his fiancé in Frome.   Bursting into the rome, he found her cavorting with an awick from Hawick (via Worcester), whose close attentions had left her all of a florcester.   His fiancé, who hailed from Beaulieu, begged him not to get upset undeaulieu, as Ralph stared at them, boggle-eyed. Things aren’t how they look, she cried. Brian Bilston
Some copies of my new book in Imagined Things Bookshop, Harrogate.
Assorted Haiku Haiku #2511   Tourists wait in line to enter Machu Picchu. Oh, look! A high queue. Haiku #564127   how dare you suggest I have a short attention spanish omelette   Limeraiku   There once was a young limerick from Kew who turned into a haiku. The Constraints of Haiku   Tied up all night with a haiku dominatrix and her three-line whip.   Shakespearean Haiku   Shall I compare thee To a summer’s day? Alright – Thou art pretty hot.   How to Write a Haiku   The last line should flow seamlessly from the first two – hippopotamus.    Brian Bilston  
It’s a picture of my book.
Requiem for Whoever   It’s time now to sleep for the long day is through, and bright shine the stars in memory of you, as you slip from this realm into another but still in our hearts, dear precious a) lover b) family member c) friend or d) business associate (please delete as appropriate).   We will carry you with us, your sun will not set – after all, is there anyone here who could ever forget your a) thirst for adventure b) generous spirit c) good sense of humour or d) love of test cricket.   You were unique; a one-off. But now sadly missed. You were cherished by all – for who could resist your a) infectious laughter b) pale blue eyes c) pencil moustache or d) powerful thighs.  
On Tender Hooks   Let me cut to the cheese: every time you open your mouth, I’m on tender hooks.   You charge at the English language like a bowl in a china shop. I wish you’d nip it in the butt.   On the spurt of the moment, another eggcorn tumbles out. It’s time you gave up the goat.   Curve your enthusiasm and don’t give them free range – the chickens will come home to roast.   Sorry to be the flaw in your ointment. You must think me a damp squid, I suppose –   but they spread like wildflowers in a doggy-dog world, and your spear of influence grows.   Brian Bilston
Job Interview with a Cat    Tell me, what is it about this position that interests you?  The warmth, perhaps? The security?  Or the power you must feel by rendering me useless?  Feel free to expand if you wish.    I see you have had experience of similar positions.  Can you talk about a time when you got somebody’s tongue?  Or were set amongst the pigeons?  Tell me about a time you’ve had to deal with a difficult situation – for instance, have you ever found yourself in a bag? If so, how were you let out of it?     How would you feel if you had to walk on hot bricks?   What about a tin roof of similar temperature?   With reference to any of your past lives,   has curiosity ever killed you?    Finally, where do you see yourself in five years’ time?  In the same position? Or higher up to catch the sunlight?  What’s that? You would like to be where I am now?  Oh, it appears you already are.  Brian Bilston
Monday is a state of mind   Monday – You are a fixed penalty notice on the windscreen of my week You are three weasels in a trench coat shoplifting happiness           from my tiny thrift store of joy You are a pinata stuffed with wasps Or a tombola where the first prize is a tube of Canestan You are the audio book of Morrissey’s novel, read by Joe Pasquale A game of Russian roulette with a bullet in every chamber Edvard Munch’s The Scream painted by Rolf Harris. Can you guess what it is yet? Yes, it’s Monday and it’s bloody horrible.   You give me the same feeling as when I hear somebody who I had previously considered to be a good friend           unironically utter the word ‘holibobs’  
The Power of a Homophone   “Sometimes the power of a homophone
will just come out of nowhere and hit you – like being struck by a ten ton truck,”
articulated Laurie. Brian Bilston
I Did Not Tell Death Where I Lived   I did not tell Death where I lived – But he has found me all the same. I hear his knock upon my door And the calling of my name.   My Snapchat settings kept him out. On Instagram I blocked him. Facebook friend requests were spurned – Yet still he keeps on knocking.   A court injunction freshly filed, But still I sit in fear. Oh, my mistake. It is not Death – I think my pizza’s here. Brian Bilston    
Acrostic Poetry: The Benefits Available in a range of words Children love them! Requires less effort to write than a sonnet O is the fourth letter in ‘acrostic’ Something about S T I don’t want to do this any more C Already done that one
A poster advertising a gig at The Water Rats in Kings Cross, London on 9th July, featuring Brian Bilston & the Catenary Wires, Jetstream Pony and Railcard.
This is One of Those Poems without any Rhymes   This is one of those poems without any rhymes, the sort of thing you might read in the Telegraph or Times Guardian.   For, as proper poets know, rhyme’s deleterious and only gets in the way when you’re trying to be serious profound.   It’s childish and cloying, simplistic and singsong to bat rhymes back and forth like some dull game of ping pong table tennis.   To the literary critic it will cause great affront, which will make you resent them and think them a snob.   This is also one of those poems which looks like it might go on to say something insightful about the human condition but then just kind of ends. Brian Bilston
No Body’s Perfect   his tennis elbow was his Achilles heel   and his Achilles heel was on his athlete’s foot   and his athlete’s foot made him down in the mouth   and though the down in his mouth he took on the chin,   it became less a shot in the arm than a chip on his shoulder –   so that when the doctor finished examining him   and told him what was wrong, he was all ears Brian Bilston
Status Update: A Lonely Cloud   Status update: a lonely cloud, As wretched as a songless thrush. When all at once my back unbowed To see her playing Candy Crush; Lemonade Lake and Treacle Trees Did dance before me in the breeze.   So vividly her sweets did shine, A bright twinkle displaced my frown. How gay they stretched in endless lines To reach as far as Candy Town: And now at last her face was seen Reflected in her iPhone screen.   Her eyes to me were liquorice whirls, And her skin was peppermint cream, Her thick, thick hair did flow and swirl Like a golden syrup’d stream. The sweetest girl I’ve gazed upon! But I could not get past level one. Brian Bilston
The Day My Dog Spontaneously Combusted there he was – chasing sticks, doing tricks, and all that stuff next minute, woof Brian Bilston
Slow Puncture   I’d use every one of them – each tiny symbol / sign – to ‘light up’ my words … and write eye-catching lines: the comma; the colon; the ellipsis; the slash; the question mark; the hyphen; the en and em dash.   In stanzas 1-2, it was all there on show (Was there nothing not used? The short answer: No!) But then I came to an unfortunate juncture: my punctuation, you see, got a slow puncture   and those small, helpful marks which let my words breathe and made me understood, all started to leave. Hyphens unhappened semi colons got missed apostrophes went awol in commaless lists.   “And what of the question marks Oh yes even those (while my brackets and speech marks forgot how to close When the last comma left there was nowhere to pause my words floated by in one endless clause   and no one could tell once the full stops departed where one sentence ended and another one started capitals absconded and meaning left too as the breaks between stanzas bowed then withdrew just like the line breaks then all sense gotblurred thelastthingtogowasthegapsbetweenwordsbrianbilston
Add to Basket   Browse eggs. Click on egg. Add to basket. Buy One Egg Get One Free. Add to basket. Buy Five More Eggs to Qualify for FREE delivery. Add to basket. Other Recommended Eggs based on your Browsing History … Add to basket. Customers who bought this Egg also bought these Eggs … Add to basket. Here are some other Eggs you might like to consider ... Add to basket. What other Eggs do Customers buy after viewing this Egg? Add to basket. Avoid Putting all your Eggs in One Basket with Our New Range of Baskets … Browse baskets. Click on basket. Add to basket. Buy One Basket Get One Free. Add to basket …   Brian Bilston
Crow’s Day Off     Crow woke early. He had a surfeit of worms; the nest was in good repair. The whole day stretched in front of him, like a sweep of clear blue sky.   Today, he would take his time. Maybe he wouldn’t head straight to Bob’s to watch the game, but go and hang out in the meadow for a while or have a little flap over to the brook.   Yeah, maybe today he’d take the scenic route.  Brian Bilston
Late Twentieth-Century Techno-Funk Wake-Up Call   Get up. Get on up. Beep.   Get up. Get on up. Beep. Threep.   Get up. Get on up. Beeeeep. Threeeeep.   Stay on the scene like a fax machine. Brian Bilston