I'll be writing poems all day thinking
that am creating rhymes

I'll be writing nostalgic screams in every stanza
that faded  into dust

I'll be writing poignant poems
that devour me of existence

I'll be writing smoked poems
that left me gasping for more air

I'll be writing lustful poems
that aroused my stitched shells

I'll be writing illusive poems
that I wept as my reality

I'll be writing shelved poems
that collected dust of your frightful memories

I'll be writing a potent poem
that echoes the dreads of this planet

I'll be writing you a poem
that bleeds Born's unquenched thirst for words

Let's see who's got
the
lightest fingers
who can get them in
the tightest places?

Faces?
I've had enough of them,
unqualified kids who
like to think they are men
and men
who are still in puberty
aged forty three!

who sold it though
to the highest bidder?

I've got rid of a life waiting for this,
the 'Glasgow kiss'
the 'Johnny Kwango' headbutt
the one fall, submit or die,
Billy Two Rivers
sending shivers like ripples
that made my ******* *****

Oops, suspect what you want, but
live a lie with one hand tied
behind your back
and you become
a one armed man.

too obvious?
try this,
or
**** orf
if ya don't like it.

Row mania.

someone stole the light at
the end of the tunnel and
pickled it with red cabbage,
the salad option,

I have no opinion
you don't pay me for those
you can't afford me anyway.


we will wait and see
unless time plays
the joker.

I'm in the red corner
( politically stressed)
clinically depressed
messed up
cussed out
and all this for enough
snout to take a break
and have a smoke
but
it's all ******* and
we all know it

the problem is,
when they tell you
it ain't **** you're shovelling
and you believe it.