Poem

'Untitled', written on 15 May 2013

I get it now

when I was a kid
my Mum used to spoil me
- still does!
I’m “her baby”
the youngest of four

but it wasn’t
extravagance
with which
she would spoil me

There was a man, he had a hat,
The hat was white, well fancy that!

If we stand in her way

It wasn’t the sugar sweet
Words of love
From your mouth

Please don't hate me
although I'm secretly a man who loves to be hated.
please don't call me a yellow nigger
unless you really mean it.

I can't hate you either,

I'm thinking of employing Damn, Blast and Sodit because I need to swear!

attraction

An unconventional and often silly poem about death and dying.

Road construction ahead. Another pending relationship. Potentially harmless. A fly stuck to the windshield. Its smashed body meaning as much as the life it once had.

A display of warmth and blush would once make its way down the tree.
Gracefully it left, like a final bow at the end of a play; so frail, yet, quite tender to the eyes of the admiring audience.

If I could, I would sleep all day and wake in the brilliant night
Day expects too much
Day expects grass to be green; the sky to be blue

Did the moon kiss your shaking phalanges?

Seeking darkness
To end the light,
To end the day and start the night.

Our BS

unzip

A defective
brain.

When I almost physically can't breathe any more
When the wretched emotion of hate fills me just waiting to pour
I think of a cat with a furball and want to retch it all up

Mice or Mouses?

Teaching my mice English is not so bad,
When the lesson is finished my mice are glad.
I put my heavy book away on the shelf.
Sometimes I have been known to talk to myself.

We are traditionalists
In our village