Here is is a selection of my poetry, most of which can already be found on the web. This poetry is more suited to an adult audience for various reasons. Please note that some of my poetry is most definitely not intended for children!
the culinary
puffer fish as metaphor for my cutting words The Japanese word ‘sushi’ means ‘it is sour’ sometimes it’s lethal blowfish or puffer by another name fugu often is fatal prepare for repast take out prandial peril tetrodotoxin deadly delicious clean cuts render edible go gall bladder, guts bile free and spineless sound bites edited; souped up vitriol punctured unsayable truths filleted for consumption in palatable portions raw cyanide, sliced, diced, redesigned, redefined ‘that’s nice’, served with rice Published on Jim Bennet's 'The Poetry Kite' blog http://poetrykite.blogspot.com/2006/11/heln-thomas.html The following poem was created especially to accompany a backing track by the musician Pouff Pouff sent me the basic beat and I wrote the lyrics; Pouff only had a few words in mind 'funk the funk, junk to junk' and suggested something reminiscent of the rap in Blondie's track 'Rapture'. I'm no Debbie Harry, but these are the lyrics I came up with. Funk the junk spark up the motor
guzzling’s a gas on a wild road trip
Junk the hunk, that dead bit of wood
roll with the lows and glide on the highs
Funk the funk, junk to junk
Useless Medusa Medusa Minutiae: alopecia sufferer, No fork tongued sizzling serpent scalp for her, But nano-sized nematodes, slithering unseen. What use this see-thru swim cap without sheen, To a mythical snake-hair who’s meant to be mean? Should she, Medusa shun shampoo or use less, Hairspray and products; should she brush and mousse less? So she summoned a stylist: Perseus so called, Who on reflection claimed he was appalled, By useless Medusa whose scalp was quite bald. Percy was scissorless but he was not dismayed, With his shimmering, talon sharp, shiny new blade, Determined to snip and trim what simply would not grow: Medusa’s worm weave with its wriggling go slow, Received from his salon hands, one final cut and blow. *** 'Useless Medusa' appears on Todd Swift's 'Eyewear' blog. 
http://toddswift.blogspot.com/2006/01/poem-by-heln-thomas.html
Today,
Beware the spores! They are growing bigger, more numerous and better organised,
There's an unseen Disney film locked in a vault. It's about a beautiful forest
full of cute animals who all love each other. They can all sing, dance and talk. They're all vegetarians and their individual foodstuff of choice can be found in abundance, along with clean spring water, which bubbles into sparkling streams. The animals frolic joyously and have lots and lots of fun. Nothing else happens; it's all quite lovely. They all live happily ever after from beginning to end. Not available to buy.
There's a worm made of tar. It has no skin or bones. It feeds off plasma and platelets
and wears the walls of your blood vessels as its exoskeleton. It divides by binary fission, doubling and doubling like time-lapse gothic botulism. You can see it spreading underneath your skin, filling your capillaries until they creak. You'll be compelled to rip out those strangling black threads like faulty electrics or rapacious weeds. There are procedures: we can arrange to have your veins lined with lead. Tick the box if you'd like us to send you a catalogue. Your statutory rights are not affected. Published online at www.nthposition.com The following poem featured in 'Hopelessness and Other Hobbies' a self published chap book, published in 2001.
 It was later spliced up and set to music by Manchester based musician, Digital Smudge. You can listen to the track on the widget below the poem. Killing Time
Seize the day!
Grab it by its skinny, grey, neck and drag it into the bushes. Slit its throat, then drop its limp, tepid body into the river. Later, haul its bloated, stinking corpse out of the silt and throw it back into the trite mouthed face of the one who said, “Seize the day!”
I Hate... A lady delighting in the dispersal of hackneyed clichés trilled, "Life's not a rehearsal!" to me.... I could only reply to this stagnant emission with, "If life is a show, then you failed the audition... love."  ***  | ||||||||
