This collection of poems is stitched from the frayed edges of reason and the loose, fluttering threads of decorum. In these pages, satire becomes both scalpel and needle—sometimes gentle, sometimes barbed—as it unpicks the absurd rituals that pass for normality in modern life. Here, the bureaucracies of emotion are exposed in all their labyrinthine silliness, and the quiet rebellions of everyday objects—socks, spoons, keys that refuse to be found—are elevated to acts of miniature defiance.

These are not verses that chase resolution or moral clarity. Instead, they revel in ambiguity, celebrate nonsense, and treat imperfection as something sacred rather than something to be corrected. The result is a playful but pointed exploration of the strange choreography we all perform without noticing: the rituals we inherit, the habits we repeat, and the tiny rebellions that keep us human.

In this volume, I've shifted my poetic compass once more—this time toward lighter, more compact forms laced with satire and wit. The poems may be brief, but they carry a quiet charge, offering a sideways glance at the absurdities we share. A raised eyebrow in verse. A smirk disguised as metaphor. A moment of recognition wrapped in nonsense.

These pieces are designed to be dipped into rather than consumed in a single sitting. Each one stands alone as a small, self-contained world, yet together they form a tapestry of the peculiar, the overlooked, and the delightfully illogical. Whether it's a spoon staging a philosophical revolt, a sock contemplating its existential purpose, or a human being navigating the unwritten rules of polite society, every poem offers a fresh angle on the everyday.

This is poetry for readers who enjoy humour with bite, whimsy with structure, and satire that never forgets its humanity. It is for those who recognise that the world is often ridiculous—and that sometimes the only honest response is to laugh, tilt your head, and look again.

If you're ready to wander through a landscape where logic frays, objects misbehave, and the ordinary becomes quietly extraordinary, then step inside. The nonsense is waiting.

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