and i swear i'll be your best time of your life
until somebody eclipses me in every capacity
the sunrise hasn't happened yet and there's still bridges
to burn, the oversized teddybear you got me from
the fair of those overpriced games lined up under the bright
farris wheel lights that shine with nostalgia everytime
i think about them again, crashing on your couch
and waking up in the morning to the smell of breakfast
but you have disappeared and it will be tragic, bones
hurt when you break them but you haven't broke mine yet

Slithering is the sound I hate to hear
On the ground, perhaps everywhere
At the lake, I barely walk near
Hearing the snouts, I wouldn't dare
I love the sea but too scared to be a meal
Of the razor teeth gliders, ready to ****
I've stopped picking coconuts recently
As the buzzing hard-shelled falls on me willingly
Right when I thought to pick some flowers
There came charging angry little towers
Noon is when I sit outside with my hot tea
The silent blood suckers happen to be
Out from their dark little camps
I am really fed up of these stinging vamps!


©sim

Trapped on my pedestal lofted up high, shrouded by darkness, dreaming of sky, let me dance for you're enjoyment, let me pirouette and spin, release me from my prison it's you're jewelry box I'm in.

At the surgery

Here we are at the clinic's
waiting room,
a fat lady with bandaged big toe,
and an old man leans on his walking stick
he lives alone.

An ancient couple from the upland,
dressed in their Sunday best,
hold hands and look endearing,
a youngish woman who keeps rummaging
through her bag, and me.


Six pairs of feet in a slow shuffle,
Electrocardiography doesn’t
mend tired heart, only tells
us we are mortal

Grateful


The club was called the checkers, painted black
and elephant tusk, two middle aged Spaniards stood at the bar
talking to a hard faced barmaid.
The talk was amicable enough, but had an underlying tension,
something about lust and the price of love's pretence.
Two birds dressed, in yellow feathers came down from the loft
told the Spaniards how much they loved them.
The barmaid asked if I was lonely too.
No thanks, I came here for the beer.
My answer impressed she shut the club for the night.
In the morning I said: I'm sixty today.
she cried a little and gave me a milky coffee.

The hotel room in St. Asaph (Wales), was damp
and smelt of spent body passion, I didn’t have a coin
for the gas metre; in the decomposing bed a woman
Snored, and from the depth of my soul
the beginning of an anguished scream.
the morning was ashen as my face and find drizzle fell.

The hotel bar was closed, I walked for bone aching
for miles while the heaven descended.
Apocalypse Now!
No such luck, when the clouds parted the hills
where green with grazing sheep on.
Dear God, where were you yesterday when I married
a scullery maid, have you no mercy.

Out of the frying pan and into the..
..why doesn't the fire have a guard?
why doesn't the pan have a lid?
see what happens when you get rid
of health and safety?
them lot
get rid of safeguards meant to
safeguard  you.

One can do no more
than eat everything raw.