I Saw Myself!
I saw myself, just now!
As old as possible,
My tena sagging,
Sweating, heaving mid-june,
Stinking of patchouli and piss,
Marlboro breath allowing a hiss,
But no more,
My tired limbs are painfully sore!
Not one for floral but I am draped,
A cardigan stained with HP was
always my fate.
The crevices I bear, you may reach
your arm through and tickle,
Tickle the soul that has become so fickle,
Feet are back to practice stance,
And twenty years since I’ve taken a dance.
Hunched, I curse the posture of my adolescence,
My foul mouth attempts a presence yet
it croaks, and croaks.
Pockets swing piled with fruit gums,
Picked out green always were my favourite ones,
I don’t pity the lady,
Well possibly, maybe.
It’s all still in a case!
My desire, lust, fire, pace.
It’s just locked behind a pruned face.
Even with a tenna sagging soggy,
Even if catalogues have become a hobby,
I’ll always be young, wild, free.
21 an infinite repeat - Charlie.
J. Otis Powell!
Sat 24th May 2014 16:57
Yes Charlie I've seen you too. And by the way you made me smell something in every poem of yours I read.
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