I do enjoy your poems
but his I cannot stand
and now I find, to my surprise
you might be the same man

Although the names are different,
the scathing natures strong
and now I read that others here
have thought it all along!

Though yours have some intelligence
and his are total *****
There's something so familiar
In the way both of you write

So I'll sit back and ponder this a while
a mystery its true
then maybe get the nerve to ask
is Loghain Carvo you?

The walk to school this morning
was an interesting affair
we talked of life and jellybeans
as laughter filled the air.
Your cape it started flapping
In the sea shore breeze
You shouted you were flying
higher than the tallest trees.
You kicked a hundred pebbles up
to orbit round the moon
and on your head you placed a wig
of finest seaweed green.
Then as we approached the gates
you ran inside to play
your cape gone south
your wig askew
that's how you start your day.
The children all dressed neatly
hair parted, brushed and combed
but you my boy, in cape and wig
the finest of them all.

How loud is too loud for Slipknot?
Ask my neighbour.

I love the way your smile just sits there
Comfortably
Beneath the mischief in your eyes.
You have that look
like you know what you've got going on
but without the arrogance to match.

We talk about life
Yours, mine
It makes me wish we had an "ours"

I wish I could shake this feeling of betrayal
this hatred of my feelings as they bloom
I promised to never love another...

though I find myself wondering how your hair smells
how your sighs sound
how your silhouette would fill the dark with light..

how foolish to fall in love through words
but the more the words fall
the more I find myself falling with them
helpless against the flow
my rudder trashed
my course set
by your compass
pulling me to my true North
as I fight to hold on to my ghosts.

What is it with society
it can't leave girls alone
to be the way they want to be
they have to **** and moan...

"Now this one she's too skinny
with a blatant lack of ***
legs stolen from flamingos
and arms like two matchsticks.."

"Now this one's far too chubby
observe her thunder thighs
see her wobble as she's walking
it's clear who ate all the pies.."

"Now see the tattooed freakshow
flesh tunnels, garb of black
in burly boots and trenchcoat
she must be taking crack.."

"and what of lil Miss sunkissed
with her streaky perma-tan
who dresses like a two bit *****
but never keeps her man.."

A war on flaws is raging
as media fuels the flame
mixed with the tongues of gossips
it gets stronger everyday
we're taught to judge a person
by looks and shape alone
regardless of their inner selves
their talents, dreams and goals
It really is a worry,
to watch our young girls grow
bowed under weight and pressure
with self esteem so low.

So tell them that they're beautiful
it's not too much to ask
and please be sure to tell them
that the media's an ***!

Adrift on her very first voyage
With the sea coursing in through her bow
Lay the cruise ship, the S.S. Lumbago
There was scarcely a chance for her now
But Ahoy! On the western horizon
In a flurry of yellow and green
That ender of blight and a damsel’s delight
And he’s always on cue for his scene

It’s Sir Patrick Stewart!
And his Luxury Budgerigar!
It’s got seating for seventy people
And the service is well above par
There’s an adequate medical unit
And a modest but elegant bar
What more could a man ever dream of
In a Luxury Budgerigar?
Well…

The forests of England were burning
So the foxes escaped to the city
The badgers had taken to looting
And the squirrels had formed a committee
But who should arise from a manhole
With a confident gleam in his eye?
That destroyer of woes with a spring in his toes
And he’s quick with a witty reply…

Sir Patrick Stewart!
And his Luxury Budgerigar!
With adjustable hose pipe attachment
It’s got wheels like a feathery car
The forests were dowsed and the fauna re-housed
With a three day retreat at a spa
It’s a thing to admire and surely acquire
The Luxury Budgerigar!
But…

Susan was stricken with sorrow
Twas her darkest, most fearful hour
A spider had wrestled her out of her bath
And set up his home in the shower
But who should jump out of the wardrobe
With an innocent look on his face?
That singer of shanties, remover of *******
And first in an obstacle race

Sir Patrick Stewart!
And his Luxury Budgerigar
With a sucker for spiders and beetles
That deposits them into a jar
There’s a tiny wee restaurant to feed them
It was given a Michelin star
A remarkable thing with retractable wings
Is a Luxury Budgerigar

So if you should be in a pet shop
And you see just the critter for you
Please heed this advice: make a note of the price
Then proceed to the back of the queue
When you ask for your preference of creature
Should it whistle, slither or waddle
Do as Sir Patrick Stewart did
And opt for the Luxury model

There are no more tomorrows
Our love lies in the past
A hazy recollection
of nothing built to last
You shaped my youth with beauty
Your heart became my home
You picked up all my pieces
and repaired me with your own
So sure I was unloveable
I fought with all my might
but soon you were my every thought
my hopes, my dreams, my light
But time moved on as time it will
and now I wait in vain
for you, the boy who loved me once
and never will again.