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 Jul 2018 Dryden
Poetic T
Tug Of War
 Jul 2018 Dryden
Poetic T
Spank it, **** it,pull it hard, call it a Name,
Make it hard, just us those palm muscles
That have been working over time on this
Single person and their knackered hand.

****** it, shout at it, **** this doesn't usually
Happen, dam why are you not going hard.

Put **** on it make it wet, like in a *****
Just imagine two wet lips legs nicely spread
Apart, just  pam and her five sisters and a
Lonely curved palm.

Use your imagination so it,ll stay hopefully
Hard, my god my hands going dead this is
To much like hard work.

Tug in silence or moan out loud, over a magazine
Or over **** on TV, sound turned down don't
Want other to know, what ever floats the boat just
To get to that point that you need to ooze it all out.

But for the love of god make sure your door is locked,
To have your mother or wife walk in saying,

"WHAT THE ****,

You'll be limp in a second, and lost for a good excuse.
Of why you got ****, toilet roll and hand spanking
While shouting filthy ***** words out.
 Apr 2018 Dryden
Lost for words
Call a                          doctor/ plumber/ priest
My heart is               broken/ leaking/ deceased

My life is                   worthless/ so much better/ over
I'm going to              **** myself/ tell your wife/ Dover

How could you         leave me/ not know/ lie?
I hope you                return my stuff/ come back/ die

I'll never                   forget you/ forgive you/ go away
I need                        closure/ a DNA test/ to tell you I'm gay

Your                           face/ crotch/ top of your back
Is                                so beautiful/ lumpy/ unusually slack

Your                           ex/ mother/ best friend from school
Always made me      great coffee/ feel inadequate/ drool

I will                           miss you/ **** you/ stalk you forever
That way we can      be friends/ get away with it/ be together

I'm sorry                   you did this/ I did this /we failed
I promise to               pay you/ dye it back/ get you bailed
Please don't               leave me/ show the Polaroids/ write or call


(*delete as appropriate, just delete it all.....)
 Apr 2018 Dryden
WickedHope
Why is it we cure pain with pain?

A burn with utter incineration?

A cut with mortal stabs and fatal slices?

A tear with larger rips and further shredding?

A break with complete shatter and growing fractures?

A love with a deeper, truer, more honest and raw  love?
I think I'm getting worse at this poem thing.
I've basically stopped rhyming altogether it seems,
at least to me.
 Apr 2018 Dryden
A Thomas Hawkins
Never fall in love with a poet
for their words are sometimes lies
on occasions they're a shield
on occasions a disguise

They will take you on a journey
upon which they bare their soul
in a bid to ease your burdens
in a bid to make you whole

But in every word they choose
for the stories that they tell
lies a little piece of heaven
and a little piece of hell

Tormented souls we poets are
sometimes quite broken and despaired
in search of lost expressions
missed by others who once cared

Never fall in love with a poet
unless you're prepared to share their pain
to hold them close on the darkest nights
over and again
Follow me on Twitter @athomashawkins
http://twitter.com/athomashawkins
 Apr 2018 Dryden
Joel M Frye
The boxes
which keep my blood clean
are stacked as tall as I,
a monument
in the spare room
to past battles.
Too many words,
too many thoughts
******* in the
hand-to-hand combat
with mortality.

No more.

What life I have
will not be defined
by an indeterminate end.

I live to write poems;
I will no longer die in them.
Camus knows.

— The End —