Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
When you drink your Veuve Clicqout and eat your honey roasted ham.remember for a moment, Barry Trent. who sets his table in a tent on Hackney marsh, he bends over,under harsh light,most nights eating bread and jam. Ham would be a luxury he don't see too much of those, wearing clothes a size too small or sometimes just to big to fit, but you don't really give a monkey's for the flunkies who live hand to mouth and living South as rich folk do I bet you think your **** don't stink, think on one day we'll all be gone and equalised. In someone else's eyes you'll be the Barry Trent,bent and ghostly, mostly. Swings and snakes it only takes one rung to fall,did someone ring the bell for hell,is it supper time? A half filled bottle of Geneva gin say, Buddy can you spare a lime.
0
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 2:50 AM UTC
Charlies.
When you drink your Veuve Clicqout and eat your honey roasted ham.remember for a moment, Barry Trent. who sets his table in a tent on Hackney marsh, he bends over,under harsh light,most nights eating bread and jam. Ham would be a luxury he don't see too much of those, wearing clothes a size too small or sometimes just to big to fit, but you don't really give a monkey's for the flunkies who live hand to mouth and living South as rich folk do I bet you think your **** don't stink, think on one day we'll all be gone and equalised. In someone else's eyes you'll be the Barry Trent,bent and ghostly, mostly. Swings and snakes it only takes one rung to fall,did someone ring the bell for hell,is it supper time? A half filled bottle of Geneva gin say, Buddy can you spare a lime.
john-edward-smallshaw
Written by
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 2:50 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem