I thought,
Maybe I only wrote when I was in love.
But you see,
I still am.
It's just now he's gone,
And I can't seem to find those beautiful words anymore.

You cant save my life
I am drawn
drawn in my own pain

You cant make me happy
I am covered
Covered with my own grief

You cant read me
I am written in the paper
damped by my own tears

.
Memories are shuttered—
In the out of doors closing,
For five eternal years we were,
Once married beside a church,
Beside a tomb.

And our hearts were simple, freed
Among the moss of grey stones,
Pebble beach and wayfare wishes
And wild doves seemed always
To be hovering.

And our only bed, growing ever
Cold as a cup of leftover wine—
We drank in sacramental prayers
Never uttered, never declared,
After all that was.

As it was after all, only—
A mere, makeshift dream.

I am in the change
the shift
in between winds of soulful words
suspending in their own reasons
I cannot gather to understand them

How I waste to wonder through it
as fleeting Muses cease their inspiration
all the while delicate time passes

what quiet hours fall into me
pouring my soul over
and over

my heart wonders

which cup will my Muse
serve me

my new words

Love goes for his guns,
            *But Apathy's too **** quick.

You know as well as I do
that internet dating can have its ups
and downs
and thus, after so many futile meetings
and tragic misadventures
in a domestic UK situation,
I decided to spread my wings
and so I logged on to an Australian website
for lonely kangaroo lovers
yes it was www.blackstump-legover.com.au
where no holes were barred.

And I soon struck up a promising friendship
with someone who sounded like
a real goer, a total slapper,
with no morals whatsover
judging from the photo she posted
taken with a mobile phone
up her skirt
which showed her muffin *****
as well as what she had eaten
for breakfast yesterday,
poking its head out.

We finally agreed to meet
behind the old dunny
in the park where the abos go
to exchange their social security vouchers
for crack *******
or a bottle of Castlemain XXXX
or a quick one up each others' bots
in spite of the pong
on a sunny arvo.

You can imagine how effing disappointed
I was when she arrived
on a trailer attached to her grandson's ute
strapped to a battered gurney
(and almost insensate)
but still ready for a bit of backdoor action
but not from me, no sirree,
thank you very much mate:
I might be desperate, but
I would have had to have
clipped my nose shut with a clothes peg
to get anywhere near her
and my gag reflex simply couldn't cope.

So I bravely dragged the gurney
over to the convenient gap
in the fence overlooking the mighty ravine
and with a gentle shove
I sent her to that sweet place
where peace can be found
and I can still hear her scream
as she bounced off the rocks
accusing me of being illegitimate
before silence reigned
and I smiled in joy.

It only goes to show, O my friends,
that there are female dogs
of the most hideous kind
on every sodding continent
on this dear planet of ours;
and I may as well stick to
a handful of Nivea cream
and a Kleenex, at least the odour
is wholesome.