Poetry Blogs (Internet dating)
I’m hanging around on a dating
In a state
Keyboards covered in tobacco, crisps, sticky with beer
Telling someone I like to climb mountains,
I’m calm and sensitive I’m in control and I’m solvent
But I’m typing.. words …I can’t ….see
And I’m starting to spill truths
I like betting, drinking, smoking ,doing most things to stop me...
Friday 27th July 2018 3:57 pm
I'm going to give this context by starting off reading my old match and pof profile. This is genuinely real.
It's always hard to know what to say on these things so I'm just going to fill my profile with exaggeration and nonsense.
I would describe myself as a cross between Brad Pitts character in fight club and a sensitive fireman who likes kittens. Overall I'm pretty awesome. Kind, in...
Sunday 27th March 2016 4:18 pm
It's a fucking minefield
This being single lark
I don't know what I'm doing
Or how to make a start!
There's all this online dating
Match, Elite or Tinder
And then there's Single Friend
But does it help or hinder?!
I want to meet new people
I don't just want a fuck
Do I want a relationship
Should I just try my luck?
I'd like a real person
Not someone on a phone
That responds to co...
Monday 28th December 2015 12:16 pm
Hey how's it going, guess it's the same,
Another set of pictures, of a girl with no name.
Just another essay, of who she claims to be,
but apparently saying hey, comes off too desperately.
Or maybe they want more, from a man who is shy,
maybe I should be the loud boastful guy,
brag about myself, and how I'm successful,
or maybe that screams needy, finding love is stressful.
I hear what...
Wednesday 28th January 2015 9:12 pm
Only seen a photograph
Will she be fat
Will she be thin.
Will she smell of Garlic
Are her toes crooked.
Are her teeth straight
Does she squint.
I want all of this
Perhaps not the Garlic.
She will be sweet
She will be loving.
Her nature pure
Loving and sure.
Will he be fat
Will he be thin.
Just between th...
Monday 23rd December 2013 4:37 am
This is the end of the Wings series, yes the Gods did play a cruel joke on both of us. We were incompatible. The lady flew back to Sweden and I moped for a week or two.
Wings for me
Feather so light.
For my rough way.
Yours from art
Mine from the mountain.
You escape from
Escape you have
Love will search for another...
Thursday 12th December 2013 11:39 am