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Craig Maskell

Updated: Thu, 31 Mar 2016 10:30 pm

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I'm a poet from Portsmouth. I have performed poetry around Hampshire and London. My poems are mainly humorous pieces about surreal subjects featuring: plastic babies, organic bicycles, supermarket ninjas, a Flamingo drummer, a suborn clock, and a zebra crossing with a dark secret.......


Plastic Baby: If I had to have a baby I would chose a plastic baby It would never wake me up in the early hours of the morning with the sound of it’s scream! it wouldn’t soil itself and demand me to clean it’s bottom and apply nappy rash cream! it wouldn’t crave for food and drink for which I would have to conjure up to keep hunger away! it wouldn’t need me to play with it and entertain it by speaking to it in a ridiculous way! it wouldn’t throw up all over my shoulder, feel poorly or catch any kind of flu! and if it’s head fell off I stick it straight back on with super glue! a baby of skin and bone I’m already starting to groan and moan! no, a baby of plastic now that sounds fantastic! SUICIDE SID Suicide Sid Was a suicidal kid Where as most kids dreamt of being able to fly Suicide Sid dreamt of different ways to die He decided to end is life one Monday morning Well watching daytime telly was just plain boring He climbed his chair put a noose around his head and leaped up into the air But do not despair Sid was terrible at tying knots and fell to the ground in his underwear But this didn’t stop our suicide Sid Have you all forgotten he’s a suicidal kid Where as most kids wanted to grow up to be rich Suicide Sid preferred to rot under a ditch He felt it was time to give death another go Well his only true friend was made from snow Sid climbed up onto his roof and plummeted to his doom But feel no gloom Silly Sid lived in a bungalow as he landed on his mother’s old broom Suicide Sid last ditch affect Was quite simply perfect He made up a poison rich in taste With a special added ingredient fish paste He was just about to indulge into his last meal When the sound of a door bell pause his kill Sid was surprised to see behind the door stood his long lost sweetheart Jill His life started to smell rosy as Sid’s heart started to heal Jill smiled as she said “I love the taste of fish paste” A horrid taste As Sid held her tiny body “what a waste”

All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.


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Helen Elliott

Thu 31st Mar 2016 23:02

Hey Craig, you're in Portsmouth? Me too. Do you go to Tongues and Grooves?

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