That chariot race had no place being in my dream,
old Romans should not roam about *****-nilly
and I lost.

I don't dream like I used to
I think the colour's running out
the screen they're played on has turned  grey
I don't dream what I dreamed of yesterday.

You look better now that you're older

and that's a fukin lie that people will tell you
knowing that soon you will die
but
I'll outlive the lot of you,
Black Spot and Blind Pew
notwithstanding.

Not planning on giving up the ghost
this is not no snitch here.

Work,
today was hard
much to do
and few hours in which to do it
actually
today was ****,
but I didn't want to say that.

A bright spot to lighten the glum
big boss man, Jamie,
gave me a bottle of Guyana ***
that
I will treasure
measuring out each tot
making sure that it hits the spot,

Now that I'm indoors
twenty-one floors up
I will take a sip
or is that I will sup?

Free day Saturday
unchained
Marley
would approve.

Lacks lustre
needs a polish
speaks only English


My CV suits me.

In my head
I'm already in bed
horror
shock
not even
nine of the clock

I'm on my way out
one of those oldies
you all talk about

See you at the beginning
of the way in
to tomorrow.

Can't decide if the days are getting longer,
am I  getting older, whether work is that much harder
or is Christmas the elephant in the room?

Busy little lickspittles can never tell the time
involved as they are in pouring out His Lordship's wine,  

I know the date and time, the year it is and what
is mine and She?
ah
She says are you writing poetry?

not likely
I lie,
but
She gives me the eye
and we
start rhyming.