Some of my words

Sometimes at of my

poetry performance gigs,

some of my words may

stutter like a Gatlin Gun or,

like a runaway train or,

sound mumbled into a dodgy mic or,

muffled by a pillow or,

trail away into the corner or,

into cigarettes mist.

Then there are times when I only stutter when I talk.

It doesn’t which way my voice pops out, I deliver my poetic words,

but not necessarily in the right order.

 

© Phil Golding 02/09

 

 

MT 06 LSE

 

May the curses from a thousand witch’s descend upon your soul,

torture you to the end of time, since my mobility you stole.

Zero tolerance to the thief who stole my ‘Motability Car’.

Six bags of feathers visited upon you, preceded by tar.

Leper colonies would be too good for you, you git.

Segregation for you from human nation, down a cess pit,

evil little shit.

 

My car, a Black 1.5SE Mercedes Motability car was stolen from my drive two days ago.

 

© Phil Golding 02/09