Struggle of the unwanted

only the top-shelfer's get to lead a caviar lifestyle

while the likes of me and kid bro'

only had weeks old lard

to scrape off the fly dance floor

of a battered frying pan

to dress a stale crust or two most days


we had no rationing war to blame 

no home loving parents at hand if ever

to cast our aspersions on


and the last of the worth small money things

we tried to conceal from the debt collectors

didn't stay that way  

for more than next to no time.


Shit childhood years over

but memory dressed I continue doing my utmost

to believe that somewhere among the near sweet fuck-all to live on

love was hiding too frightened to show itself

in case it wouldn't be recognised by us

and that we would kill it


in the same way, others had done

sad lessons we wrongly learned, copycat style.    


◄ booze broken

Again the fall out ►


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Mon 5th Aug 2019 13:29

yikes, Jemima, you are a beaut! and about to pass on that beauty I see from your tubby tum. No, no worries it was fictional but not so with millions of others, unfortunately.

My thank's to you, Devon and Do.Rothy

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Jemima Jones

Fri 2nd Aug 2019 13:56

Leon, this is another one of those times that I sincerely hope for your sake that this poem is fictional, not fact albeit a very well written piece
Thank you. Jemima.

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Thu 1st Aug 2019 20:14

Keith, depending on how the brex deal goes I might be asking you to spare a dime, little money now but in the arse end of life days to us, that would have a fortune. Cheers mate.


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