Pluto was just like the rest,
Complete a full rotation, wake up and get dressed,
Open his eyes, feel the weak beams of sunlight on his chest,
Looks upon his brothers and can’t help but be subtly impressed.

There was Earth, a real people’s person,
Wore turf like makeup, but not in equal proportion
To his ever rising water level that always seemed to worsen,
And a high population that could sometimes be a burden.

Riots and drama and wars blemish like acne,
His inhabitants each day getting slowly more crafty,
Some think he’s round, others prefer to live flatly,
I guess being the most popular isn’t so classy.

Jupiter was closer, a real gas giant,
Lived all alone with no people to be her clients,
But stuck in constant alliance with a star filled tyrant,
The universes ring around her finger, a constant engagement.

And then there was Pluto, a boy with a strange condition,
A condition made worse by a long stellar distance,
In a world seemingly endless, it’s time that this came fourth,
What was wrong with Pluto you ask?
Well he was a dwarf.

Due to his small size, Pluto just didn’t quite fit,
The little guy in town, but with a slightly bigger orbit
The shortest, the furthest, not reachable by any rocket,
Until one day the universe did something even more horrid.

2006, the year the family would die,
God took his power, and cast Pluto aside,
No longer a brother, cast him out and took his pride,
Now forever a dwarf planet, it was planet genocide.

From that day on, Pluto became distant,
He was the same as them, same digestive solar system,
But he was victim to prejudice between organisms,
A broken existence, due to planetary feudalism.

By Thomas Charlton

So there’s a girl across the street
A girl to whom he’s grown accrete
A girl he’s just to scared to greet
But yet still he sits and hopes

You see she’s in love with Darren
However Darren’s in love with Karen
And Karen sits and stares at Bob, who’s probably gay, probably not,
But still he drools over Linda,
Who’s stare is blank and barren,
Pointed at the anti-nerd, football loving, guru Darren.

Yes it’s really that simple,
Forget love triangle, more love enneadecagon,
Gone,
That reminds him, as it hits his head like a hadron,
Gone,
Are his hopes of him and the girl across the street.

Her features to him, were long developed similes,
They came to his brain, seamlessly, chemically,
Of course he’s never express these feelings formally,
But to him they acted as a soothing love remedy.

Her eyes were golden like caramelised sugar,
Or the enticing qualities of slowly melting butter,
Each eye, a galaxy waiting to be discovered,
And yes he means the chocolate bar.

Her hair is crimson like strawberry laces,
Which reminds him of the disadvantages of having braces,
But he braces himself as though it’s his duty,
Braces himself for an overwhelming amount of beauty.

She talks to him about all the awful things that guys do,
She then says she wishes that more guys were like you,
She says she wants that guy to show up this year,
But what she doesn’t see, is that that he’s standing right here.

So there’s a guy across the street
A guy to whom she’s grown accrete
A guy she’s just to scared to greet
But yet still she sits and hopes

You see he’s in love with her neighbour,
A chore that she knows can be a labour,
Yet she knows she can be the saviour,
Because she is even greater

So one day to no surprise, he’s looking out with eager eyes, they lock eyes, butterflies, quite surprised, more butterflies, they remain like that til sunrise, emotions start to normalise, then fluctuate because of those **** butterflies.

So there’s a girl across the street
A girl to whom he’s grown accrete
A girl he wasn’t scared to meet
And now they live and bond

Because that girls in love with Darren,
However Darren’s in love with Karen,
But who cares,
They have each other for the rest of their days

And beyond.

Come I’, Sit daahn, Shurrup,
Wor t' fust thin 'a' ah 'eard.
So ah grabbed uz buk fra t' back.
‘n prepared for summa’ absurd

An exam ont’ fust day ah exclaimed!
As uz face exploded wi’ rage
Ah dead eyed ‘im fra across t’ room
‘n reluctantly turned t’ page

T’ year continued like ‘dis,
‘n uz nem appeared ont’ board
‘n ta quote wah’ I’d learnt fra’ uz studies,
Ah felt wretched ‘n abhorred

Tahhm passed by,
‘n 'e 'n class began ta connect.
n suddenly 'a' dislikin,
turned inter respect.

Tahhm went furtha,
as 'e yelled 'n laughed 'n cussed,
‘n suddenly ‘a’ respect,
turned inter complete trust.

‘e’d lern wee randa facts,
‘n sha wee gormless vids.
'e’d respect wee li' adults,
'n nivva' treat wee li' kids.

'n even when ah wor glum,
‘n wasn’t feelin missen,
‘e’d finn' eur way ta use 'is words
ta nurse uz back ta 'ealth.

‘n when 'e sez 'e wor leavin, everybody’s 'eart cried,
We didn’t want ta seh tarreur,
teur t' bloke who’d bin ah guide

Sa t' best we can doa is come togetha,
‘n gatha orl wee folks.
'n wish t' best o' luck ta ah ‘un 'n onny,
Yorksha bloke.

What colour are your eyes?

The questioned, breathes in, shakes his head and sighs

Sir, they’re not disguised,

after all they are my eyes,

and I make no attempt to keep them closed but open like the skies.

The things I say to you, well, they aren’t ******* lies,

and your own stupidity is what will be your demise.

the questioner looks puzzled, sudoku plastered across his face

Oh sir! You look confused!

Well In that case,

To figure out the colour, just look at one place,

A place full of grace,

So sit back and brace,

Just look into my eyes you ******* idiot.

The questioner looks offended, face throbbing bright pink

Sir, I think you might need a drink.

No water? Then your eyeballs might shrink!

Here’s your drink! Clink!

If you can’t tell a persons eye colour, by using your own eyes, then sir that must really stink,

That’s actually kind of ironic don’t you think?

The questioner looks baffled, his confusion slowly on the rise

You look so confused, I think your retina could be fried!

Has he died?

I mean he’s just sitting there,

the questioner sits back and cries

Like a group of the alphabet tried to tell him the Beatles were back,

The questioned couldn’t believe his i’s

the questioned looked puzzled, embarrassed and baffled

Puzzled like scrabble

Embarrassed like he’d been tackled

Baffled like Seattle (so baffled, even his rhyming didn’t make any sense)

Green

The questioner looks up with a smile

I’m sorry, it’s been a while,

I’m not used to dating old style,

So far, it’s not been worthwhile, and I didn’t mean to be hostile but my lifestyle has been freestyle and like a pile of bile it’s been vile.

Now I know I can be a task, but sir why did you ask?

the questioner looks into the eyes of the questioned, at that moment all thoughts and feelings have been beckoned

They hold a persons secrets,

Wether or not we’re destined,

More powerful than a thousand questions,

And yours are perfection.

the questioned blushes, leans forward with intrigue, glowing like sunrise

So tell me sir, what colour are your eyes?

I dream of a world where passions are free to thrive,
Where we’re not controlled by rules that tell us how to live our lives,
But we’re stuck inside a world where people don’t try to diversify,
This place I call the place where people’s passions go to die.

I don’t think people understand it but we’re all basically the same,
Listening to the same repetitive music over again and again,
I don’t like what I’m hearing it sounds illogical and vain,
I listen to what I listen to so how people view me is maintained.

It’s the same with fashion, technology, media and trends,
And no matter how much I want to leave it, the cycle never ends,
My personality is biased and based on what society recommends,
And makes me contemplate if those I call friends are really friends.

Because I like poetry and writing and to most that’s quite obscene,
I’m not like them buying expensive clothes from expensive magazines,
So when I look into the mirror I know exactly what I see!
I see a guy who’s way too scared to be who he wants to be!

Step back, Breathe in, breathe out, repeat, relax,

There’s a point about all of this that I’m wanting to inspire,
If there’s something that you love, wish to be or admire,
Don’t sit by idly, letting the passion you have expire,
Do something with your dreams and make it something you require.

So rise up! Don’t let anyone tell you what you can and can’t be,
Who cares wether or not the people surrounding you agree,
The passion inspires action and the action is the key,
For you to say to yourself how great it is to be me.

So you finally made it, a world where passions are free to thrive,
Where you’re not controlled by rules that tell you how to live your life,
A world that you created to be slightly more diversified.
You’re no longer in the place where people’s passions go to die.

Bacon
I would awaken to the scent of bacon,
The kind of bacon you’d be making always left me shaking and aching,
Quaking, for some more of that bacon.

I’m not mistaken, that bacon was for my taking,
when I woke up on kings row like Ronald Reagan,
And the misshapen stains of bacon dripped down your apron,
Like water down the side of a water basin.

You see that bacon left me complacent,
To know I’d tasted god made bacon,
It gave me infinite dreams like iron maiden,
A feeling I could not be faking.

But one day I woke a little shaken,
The absence of the scent of bacon. left me broken and forsaken with the ever relenting aching of a lack of bacon as though Satan would be complacent and end the lack of bacon fuelled motivation

Cause you left me for him, and now I’m breaking,
There’s no longer the scent of you, or your bacon
And he’s lucky, cause what he’s got is amazing
He’s not taking the cake
Nah he’s taking the bacon.

By Thomas Charlton