Silver Medal
Runner Up
Understudy
2 I C
Other woman
(just in case)
one number off
second place.
Not quite out
Almost not in
Deputy and Vice
11th out of ten.
Pepsi, Burger King
Futurama, Wings
All some of our
second favourite things.
Lazenby's Bond
Troughton's Who
Samsung, google+
Buzz Aldrin too
Just missing out,
'they made me choose'
Always coming second..
the first one to lose.
May 6, 2013
May 6, 2013 at 10:00 PM UTC
There are friends that I see everyday
And ones that will be months away
Friends that live on foreign shores
And friends that I should really call.
In my way I love them all…
But each should bring me ***** more...
Or maybe just sit and let me pour
out the stuff I usually ignore…
(though ***** will help there as well, I'm sure)
Sep 21, 2012
Sep 21, 2012 at 2:41 AM UTC
“Dear Lab,” started the angrily worded poem,
“We’ve put up with shenanigans and outrage and prats
And unfair bannings from you little rats.
We put up with no codes (quote) for our protection
And through it all you maintained our affection.
Now along you slither with your fancy new forum
And ask our opinion - just to maintain decorum -
but of our gentle requests: you deplore ‘em
Then leave all the mess to the red coated quorum.
pfft - Lab notified."
Nov 12, 2010
Nov 12, 2010 at 2:48 PM UTC
Sick of this life
Sick of the trials
Sick of the things that don’t make it worthwhile
Sick of the beatings and words that can hit
Sick of the men
who love other girls ****
Enough of the trying
To fit in at all
Enough of pretending I’m happy you call
You want my attention
But it’s just a farce
You really just want to be noticed by ****
Which, incidentally, is a really **** way
To speak of the women
You *** to each day
In lieu of my island
With beaches and sand
I’ll wander away... by my own hand.
Nov 8, 2010
Nov 8, 2010 at 10:37 PM UTC
The folk they sit around the bar
And listen to my jokes so far.
I entertain the clientele
and pour another beer to sell.
The bills, they fill up my tip jar
as they go blah, blah, blah, blah, blah
I pull some sympathetic faces
And appropriately nod in places.
I listen to their tales of life
Some have three kids; some have a wife
Some have both, which makes it clear
why they spend all their time in here.
They tell me of their life of woe
or how their family’s make it so.
They speak of losing teams and cash
and utes they want to flip and crash.
I tell them that I understand
And place another beer in hand
The better that I feign concern
The more in untaxed tips I earn.
Apr 10, 2010
Apr 10, 2010 at 3:32 PM UTC
I like fishing, but dislike boats.
I'm sick of washing, but still wear clothes.
My brother-in-law hates the way I live my life.
My sister keeps the peace, the good little wife.
Mum, I haven't spoken to for many, many, weeks.
Another life, another town, it's solitude she seeks.
My common-law husband is wheelchair bound,
You can't jump puddles with legs that are round.
We own some land, the bank owns the house,
If we miss a payment, they kick us out.
You can't pitch a tent on the corner of the block,
Reading the small print--they own the lot...
Sailing and laundry, painful relations,
Mid-life crisis and petty celebrations.
Watching a loved one severe his spine,
Angry with friends, 'cause they're walking fine.
Another rejection or funds cancellation,
Penning a poem to vent my frustration.
Seeing the darkness in plain black and white,
A smile on my lips--This is my life...
Apr 7, 2010
Apr 7, 2010 at 12:27 AM UTC
I've been kicked in the head and punched in the face
was cut with a knife and bled around the place
My ankle's been twisted, my eye has been black
my knees have been skinned, my skull has been cracked
My appendix exploded, my kidney got stones
my ribs have been fractured, I've broke a few bones
My back has been burnt, my finger's been ground
Try harder you ******** I'm still around.
Apr 3, 2010
Apr 3, 2010 at 8:45 PM UTC
I’ll run with scissors and pull faces in the wind.
And jump off a bridge, because Bill O’Brian did.
I’ll make you come in here and give me what for
I’ll Jump on the bed and slam up the door.
I’ll do what you do and not as you say
I’m staying inside on a beautiful day.
I’m having dessert without finishing dinner
I think I can cheat and still be a winner.
In front of TV, I sit close as I please
I slurp up my soup and catapult peas.
I’ll wear ***** underwear despite threat of harm
And yes, I was born inside of a barn.
There’s plenty to do, but I’ll remain bored
I have the chest, now where’s my award?
I’m won’t really mean it when I apologise
I’ll read in low light without ruining my eyes.
I’ve listened to every bit of advice
You know I’ll jump in without thinking twice.
I’ll cry over spilt milk and not hang up the phone
And I just can’t wait till my father gets home.
Apr 3, 2010
Apr 3, 2010 at 8:44 PM UTC
I wish that there weren’t always
toys upon my floor
or washing evermore
or someone at the door
I wish that when I turned my
head I didn’t smell
the faintest little tell
of spew on my lapel
I wish that every time I
Sat myself to eat
I had myself a seat
Without the extra feet.
I sometimes wish to flee
Just close my eyes and be
Too far away to see
where there is only me
Then while my daydreams plan
I see her smiling and
I only wish that I could be
exactly where I am.
Apr 3, 2010
Apr 3, 2010 at 4:06 AM UTC
A smoke-filled room, a loud gaffaw, the barmaid pours a beer,
the pub is full of country blokes and Aussie atmosphere.
Some 'Chisel' thru the speakers, the racetrack on the telly,
pool table sending iv'ry ***** to its underbelly.
Walls adorned with history, and heads of native birds,
the Nation'l Anthem in a frame, 'cause no-one knows the words.
An ag'ed man sits in the corner, sipping at his ale,
his teeth are stained, his liver's shot, his ragged skin is pale.
Young buck swaggers in and, as the room lets up a shout,
he tips his head in mock salute and takes his earnings out.
Good mates standing at the bar as jugs are passed around,
the yarns are flowing freely to impress the growing crowd.
The old man in the corner holds his voice above the din,
"You boys want a story, eh? Well, buck up and listen in.
Jus' the other day this feller was sat here at the bar,
he held his glass with steel hook, his cheek, it had a scar.
That scar, it ran from ear to chin, ****** it was shockin',
angry, red and all inflamed, he'd taken quite a coppin'.
With legs the size of tree trunks an' a barrel for a chest,
he looked as though, with just one blow, he'd put a man to rest.
I ventured on the happenings, and nodded to his claws,
he turned to me, quite wearily, and spoke, after a pause."
As if to emulate the mood, the old man waits a bit,
he squints his eyes upon the crowd and makes a show of it.
"This bloke is felling up a tree, 'bout fifty foot or so,
a lightning bolt, he gets a jolt, the chainsaw he lets go.
It backs up from the branch and lops off both his paws,
then, before he thinks to catch 'em, they hit the forest floors.
He’s with them soon enough, as the rest of him descended.
I shakes me head, 'Christ!' I says, tryin' to comprehend it."
The crowd is leaning forward and the air is getting tense,
the old man lights a cigarette, just to build suspense.
He slowly sips at his beer, then lifts his head to speak,
"Me eyes then trail from steel claws to mark upon 'is cheek,
'That how you did your face in, the chainsaw misbehavin'?'
He took a pause, held up his claws, and shrugged, "Cut it shavin'.""
Apr 3, 2010
Apr 3, 2010 at 4:02 AM UTC