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The Grand National Makes Us Weep

to be a gambler
is to claim to be
a prophet
a shaman
a predictor of
the future

to be a gambler
is to be insane
because you know
you are right

fortune teller

the feeling is
is perfect
is something greater
than life

until you lose
but even that’s

because you had
that feeling
that gift

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Public Transport


He said to her,
‘I’ve got a
you know.’

She sipped her
drink and
then replied,
‘But have you
got a
big dick?
I can always
the bus!’

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Length & Girth

‘Was your ex’s dick bigger than this?’

I asked

holding up my large battered sausage to her.

‘How big do you think that is?’

she asked.

‘9 inches,’ I approximated.

‘Well yeah, as big, but it was fatter than that.

He said it was

nine and half long and

seven around.’

I nodded and laughed

but inside

I think I was crying.

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One Bum To Another

‘Does my bum look big in this?’

she asked.

‘Your bum looks big in

everything,’ I explained.

‘Are you serious?’ she said.

‘It takes a bum to know a bum,’

I replied, ‘and this is between us;

it don’t concern you.

In fact, me and your

exquisite behind

have been having a

fantastic relationship for

some time now.

We’ve been seeing

each other


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The Agony of the Flame


This night is like

Any night

But a candle knows best

And flickers

Dancing its own volition


I guess I’m lonely

Like the moth

I’m too intrigued

The darkness lingers

But it is not enough


I have come here to burn

You look at me

Your face the

Only thing I see


You smile

I smile back


But in the blackness


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when that daylight hit us again (inspired by Gareth Writer-Davies' Junk poem)

them rattling dirty hours


night melted away


the sun boiled up


and we were





straight off the



them days were


but essential

deadly but

so on fire


them days were

slow and


new and



we were doing something


reaching ou...

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The End of my Soul on Saturday Nights

I hate the way TV personalities

stare at me

from the screen

like they know me

like they wanna talk or

hold my hand

or reach in and

rub my heart


the way they fucking


from their perfect

made-up flesh


they say ‘I am this


you want to be me

to know me

to look like me

come this way and I’ll

show you

a th...

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After All The Fucking Shit Has Already Fucking Hit You

all you can do is

come home

and drink



and wait


for the next day


another slow



rotten day


another day


with suffering


blues and



with banality




much less


that day

and another

on and


it goes


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Buy Me Books, Buy Me Books

Hello everyone,

I've got a new poetry chapbook, 'Room is Brutal' out with erbacce-press, as well as 'These Dirty Nothings'.

Buy one, or both, and gimme some money so I can buy some wine.


Also have my own self-published books available from my email address.




David Ma...

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For You, Babe

The days burn

almost as much

as the nights

ever did

and yes you’re still a

blonde maniac


but your tits are good

and your arse is good

and your pussy is

very good


and I love that

small roll of fat

over your jeans


or the way you

spit out your gum or

smoke half a cigarette

or belch

just like a man


It’s ...

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The Night Mare

She said, ‘Argh! I’m such a nightmare, babe!’

People bore me too much,

bore me to death,

that’s why I drink,

that’s why I do what I do.

When I’ve had a drink I’m having

such a good time.

I think I drink to find people

more interesting,

not so boring.

You know?’


I nodded down the phone.


Then she slurred, ‘Argh! I’m

such a nightmare!...

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Why Do You Want This Job?

The job interview

is the biggest lie.

Two people sit

facing each other

in a room

in the world.


One asks questions.

One answers.

None of these questions matter.

None are human.


One tells how great it is

to work in this company.

One says how much they

really want the job.


You reckon you can do it?


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Our Poems

Our poems make love

Coz we do not


Our poems walk the streets

Looking for a place to go


They meet up secretly

And check into seedy hotels

On the edge of town

And fuck it all away

Till there’s nothing left

No day and no night


Our poems are lovers

We are not


But our poems always

Tell it

Better than we could

Ever ho...

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Someone’s always trying to take over the world

You have to take what you want

You have to take



You have to take what you


Before the other guy does


Take it all

Before it’s too late

Before the sun comes down

On us



Oh well


Take everything there is

It’s yours

If you want it

If you need it

Tell yourself that


Take it



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Life Bores Us All To Death

We all move

with such purpose


We stretch out

in all directions



Shit, we’ve got

such important


to get done


But all the way there’s

a little bit of


in our skulls or

pressing down on our



The sun will shine

or it will not

There will be light

or there will not

We get tangled...

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Apathetic Son of a Bitch

I always wanted an extraordinary life,

and I think that I’ve

never been able to accept its

lack of meaning.


I wanted purpose and reason but

there is none.

It’s all run out, been taken,

been used up by the



It’s a con.


So I want nothing,

I am not interested either way.

I have grown bored.

I cannot heal or roll over,


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Sadness Structure

The sadness can

build up around you

if you let it


It can tower over


surround you

so that when you look  it’s

all you can see


It stacks up like

piles of stone

jagged rocks

and the daylight can’t get through


But for a while you

like it this way and

it’s good the daylight can’t get through


You’re left alone


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All The Days Scream

Some days

you’re the genius


Others days

you’re the fool


There is not much

in between

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Write or Die

Once it starts

it just don’t stop

Once it comes

it will not leave

It has you


you’re done for


The habit forms

the discipline

and there’s

nothing you can do


An invisible gun

pointed at the skull

pressed up

to the temple

and the voice

a whisper

a haunting chant:





You dare


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All Luck Runs Out, Some Does Not

We all learn to push our luck

We push and push

until it

runs out

until it

breaks and says

‘Get outta here

I’m done with you!’


Of course you have to

have the luck

to begin with

Only then can you

abuse it


You are lucky

then you are unlucky

You are unlucky

then you are lucky

That is just the way of things



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Time and Happiness

Time and happiness

Time for happiness


Time is the meaning


Don’t ask me

I didn’t

make it this way


Just like Adam and Eve

alone in the garden

with just space

and time

and nothing else

no one else


Time is the answer


To just be

in love

with the one

you love


(as God suggested




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That is all

Pointless days


pointless days

but no one will

admit this

they don’t like

to see it


But you see it

I know you



They get up for

no reason at all


They strain

and fuss

and stress

and worry

about nothing

at all


It is not



There is only


and then there’s


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Take it or leave it

You continue with your shitty life

And I’ll continue with mine

We’ll forget each other

One day, I’m sure

Just not yet


And I’m only infatuated with

Your look

Your face

Your smile

Your sexy body


But not you

Not yourself


You come in here and

Chase away the word

Make me question everything

Just who do you think you are?


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To my Girl

The women want to kill you

The men want to fuck you

And I think to myself

What a wonderful world

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And a Voice

I am not designed for life

not fit for it

I’m merely not strong enough

a weak, hopeless

pathetic template


And this dark mood

this deathly visitor

is inside me now

all the way deep

gripping my skull

cutting my thoughts

making it hard enough

just trying to breathe


So I lay here

as lost as stone

a thing neither dead nor alive


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The night comes

A madman tucked up

sweet in a lullaby

A whore in the dark


These shadows cleanse

pulling everything

below the surface


Don’t you see

we’re made of tears?


I don’t know where

you are

which means

you’re gone once more


So I drink myself away


We are both lost

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Job Interview Tip

All the way through the job interview I

desperately wanted to shout out the word

‘cunt’ very loudly. I don’t know why

but I did. I wanted to

spit it, hiss it,

scream it out in my interviewers’ faces.

I wanted to howl and growl and

bark it. I wanted them all

to know. But

I never. I just

sat there thinking:

‘cunt, cunt, cunt!’

And it’s the fact that


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Look at you

with your


perfect hair

perfect skin

perfect teeth

perfect cheekbones


perfect lips

perfect smile

perfect blowjobs


perfect tan

perfect tits

perfect pecs

perfect abs


perfect bellybutton ring


perfect tattoo

perfect sex change

perfect facelift

perfect body


perfect meat & bone


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Somewhere during the car journey

I lost my love for you.

I’m sure I had it with me

when I left.

M1, M25, M4,

it’s on one of them, I’m sure,


but I lost it on the way.

And when I turn into your street

and I spot you waving,

I drive my car fast,

straight, headlong,

into your smile.

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Another Row

You corrupt

You infiltrate

You come in from the cold


Constructed from stone

You cross the room

You claim everything you want


And I can only watch

Dumb frozen

As you destroy the room with your mood


Daggers from your eyes

Knives from your lips

I clutch my chest. I fall through the floor

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I thought of you today

You, missing

Like a tooth from a skull

And it tongues the bloody gap where it was


You, missing

Like a fingernail torn off

And the weeping surface is left sore and confused


You, missing

Like an arm ripped away in a car crash

Then the strange life without it not understood


You, missing

Like the cigarette on the back of a hand

You alway...

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Do Another Day

Night. Strange blue coming in,

my wild head eating up thoughts,

the clock’s noose around my neck.


And there’s a large number of sheep in this tomb,

about 2 per second,

for hours now.


There’s a thick panic when I discover birdsong:

it’s early it’s late,

it’s morning it’s night.


Perhaps a drink will soften the blow

as the quick hours fall


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Morning Horny

You wake up so horny

You want to hump



And you want the hump to go on forever

To never stop

To blow fast

To last

This great effort, this

Sexy hump


But your bed’s empty

And you’re all alone

And your hand looks at you

You swear it’s giving you the eye


So you smile back

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Bad Dreams

The bed is full of bad dreams

Scattered under sheets

That crunch into my flesh

Like broken glass.

I don’t sweep them away

Coz I can’t.

I love you but

You’re a nightmare.

I take you to bed all the same.

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In the busy cafe I finish my giant hangover fry-up

Wipe my mouth and slurp my tea

Then lean thoughtfully to the left

In order to let rip great apocalyptic trumpet blast

Just to show all these brain-dead bastards

That I mean business

But just before the release

My girl hisses: ‘Don’t you fucking dare!’

So I put my sad cheek back down and

Prepare to sulk


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We done it up the side of that pub,

in December,

outside with no johnny.


And I didn’t know you

and you didn’t know me;

we didn’t know where the other had been.


You kept looking down at your gut

and saying: ‘God, I’m so fat!’

I wondered if he was listening.


I just belched and fucked you faster,

as it was cold and

I needed another drin...

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Airplanes have been flying too close to our sun today.

Heart shapes have been spotted floating in the sky,

not UFOs as reported in the press, and your aura is

fluffy hot pink as usual, a supplication for red roses.

And speaking of those heart shapes of ours, you

open my chest like a box of chocolates

only to find nothing there but the words

‘Back Soon’.

We both k...

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Ambulance Meditations

Cleaning the inside of ambulances,

£5.90 an hour,

four till midnight.

White vehicle lit up in the darkness.

Blood, puke,

shit, piss,


tissue, gunk, juice,

some other fluids,

not yet known to me,

but human matter,

splattered and sprayed wildly,

sticky under foot,


What a mess.

So we scrub and mop and wipe,

clean an...

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Untitled Smile

Your dark eyes peep from your

limbo. Hidden and obscured by your

sadness. You little fool.

There’s no easy way to explain to you

how all the others smile. And

what do they smile at that you cannot?

Their obscene faces stretch out in the sun,

well, don’t worry about it baby coz

I don’t get it either.

If they knew the truth they’d

never dare smile again.


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He’s leant over the urinal, drunk, his head against the wall,

dick hanging out between his hands,

wet stain on his trousers. And he moans when

you enter, eyes rolling back, zombified!

‘You alright boy eh? You okay now son?’ he slurs.

You nod and smile, look away, choose the furthest cubicle.

You hear his dirty old wheeze, his movements slow and shuffling.

You come ou...

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An Awful View

What an awful view

each morning.

This is it:



  A S D F G H J K L

    Z X C V B N M


What’s it mean?

Ah, it means nothing.


It is awful.

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Last Meal

The restaurant was busy, but during their meal

the woman suddenly screamed and just

stabbed her guy in the eye with her fork.

The crowd went mad all hooting and babbling.

We pissed ourselves laughing at it all,

all this new madness, and my girl asked me,

‘So, what do you think he said to her?’

‘Well,’ I replied, ‘if I had to guess, I would say

that he just told h...

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Rub the Smiling Stars

We’re all just loners

Trying to smile,

Most of the time,

Or curling up

On the carpet.


Just a little more

In the sun,

A moment, is that

A glimmer in your eye

Reflecting me?


I stay out of your world

And you stay out of mine,

It’s how the stars get by.

We glow individually.


One day, baby, we’ll

Rub our fat worlds


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You Turn Up Unannounced

You creep into my dreams the same way you creep into my poems.

In my dream last night I was driving my car. But I heard your voice.

You were far off, talking to my mum.

Then you walked into my old bedroom.

And I got up off the bed and went over to you, and

kissed you on the cheek,

not the lips.


Even in my dreams I know we’re over.

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Something Fishy About Today

Dead fish floating on the surface of the sky,

your smile is like a red bag of nails,

your heart is black mud,

your skin – cool as glass.

Bubbles fizz in my bottle, they

measure time,

the time in which we

don’t say a word.

This silence can kill but

there’s no such thing as silence anyhow.

Deep down I want my ideas to eat you.

Deep down I want to say so...

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She lives by the dawn

and the birds’ talk

when she comes

forces me to wake

to remember

her face


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How They Arrive

The poem turns up when it wants to

When it’s ready

And everyone is happy


I do as I’m told

I follow orders



The blues, the bottle

The words in between

And whatever’s left

Crumbles and

Falls away


Sometimes it’s so simple

Not hard

It’s just like that


The poems scratch to be

Let in, they

Crawl across th...

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Ejaculation Is King

Shooting your load at least

three times a day

in the same way you

shoot your poems.

Hot and mad, burning

behind the eyes,

the maniac’s grin,

the words no one’ll know

but you. These

dirty nothings are

all your own,

you speak them to yourself

over and over as

you rub it out, as

you work it.

A gush, a spill, a flow

everywhere. Just


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