Poetry Blogs (flat)
we sit drinking coffee,
much is yet unspoken,
my cup looks cracked,
her biscuits all broken
the flat smells of damp,
split ends and oily hair,
scars bangle her wrists,
focus of my coy stare
by the hearth lies a cat
of a species I deplore,
yellow paint peels off
a lone bedroom door
on her neck a blemish
coated in stale powder,
all in all, a f...
Sunday 11th April 2021 11:15 am
The dead man sits on his sofa and watches TV
in his East German tower block apartment.
Cash in the bank pays his bills, no eviction notice here.
What was once a real person is a mummified corpse, all wrinkled and shrunken.
For three years he's been like this, a TV critic.
Bored fucking shitless, dead.
From soaps to films, he's endured them all.
Monday 9th September 2013 12:20 pm
Once-upon-a-time, a barman worshipped the Sun.
Worked nights so didn’t see much of it
but in his head he’d got stories of
the Fire God supreme,
vanquishing monsters who'd eat out your dreams.
He called the Sun ‘Hero’,
believed it had six pairs of arms,
giant wings of flame
and the handsomest nose in the galaxy.
Made moons blush
Friday 17th December 2010 1:38 pm