Poetry has come to late to me, but I am a writer. A novel gathering dust and several published short stories. My verses are simple and angry.
The Summer of Hate: Bugger you, summer of '76 Thanks for such a long july 3 weeks of 90 degrees The misery of youth and sunburn on my young shoulders Raw with punk and a summer job in a chip shop. Yearning for love while my overalls stunk of fish! Cheers for that! And thank YOU, summer of '95 wincing from your brutal heat thighs sticky, face like beetroot heavy with child, akin to a sweaty sodden lump. Buggered if I was eating THAT placenta! Charmless all the way down to my swollen ankles Cheers for that, 1995 What did I ever do to YOU?! Screw you, hot summer of '03 whinging kids and an empty purse sun steaming into my face like a torrent, the minute I put on the chips. Children clinging like a second skin, studying open doors, desperate for a twig to move My sodden shirt sewn into my skin insect bites in the darkest of places Why couldn't you have been like a PROPER summer?! Like 1976 they were good days then
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Friday 20 October 2017
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