Broken up prose

What poems would look like if they were written by a person that didn't know how to write poetry.

Poem of the week

He Brings a Tut

I try not to hate the school kids as I'm sitting on the bus hating the school kids.
Cherry

All This

I’d plucked the biggest carrot either of us had ever seen, was skipping with it in my hand swinging from its leaves like a child swings a favourite doll, by its hair.
Cherry

With no one to impress I'm lost

Add it to the list of things I've ruined through analysis. I will never watch Saddam swing lightheartedly again.
Cherry

If you peeled my skin off I'd be smiling

There are gaps where our bones don't meet and it's cold but we're both grinning and we don't know how to stop.

I Would Gladly Share My Crisps With You.

An old lady gets on Smelling like bums and sherbert. Bringing new meaning to the sherbert dab She fizzes past Fat and terrified Of a new generation That won't give up their seats.
Cherry

Kara-Sue You Deserve Better Things

Kara-Sue sitting at the check out wearing your name badge calmly. I want to rip it off
Cherry

Not again, please

She used to fuck him on the front seat of their Honda. Him pinned beneath the steering wheel Her whispering not to move.
Cherry

Impure Thoughts

He lifted one up high and I thought Oh fuck he's gonna ram that down my throat or force it up my jacksie. Jesus' bearded head will peer out of my arse.
Cherry

See My Failure

You are so beautiful when you talk about being attacked when you were young I sympathise with your attacker.
Cherry

Mother (or Findus Crispy Pancakes)

Those nights in front of the gas fire with the Mitchells, Dingles, Duckworths. You cooked Findus crispy pancakes and I basked in the warm orange glow, your little superman in spiderman pyjamas.