"flatmates" poems
There's a funny sort of emptiness
that passes over me
as I walk past the paperback erotica that tuck themselves away
in the shelves of the local grocery store in places that are
simultaneously completely out in the open yet completely ignored
looking, as I do, with mock casual interest
and unfeigned disdain.
Who are these intended for, really?
Are they for the snuggly-wuggly, ***** cozy-woozy, wishy-washy and warm family of four
comparing chicken nugget prices and
weighing the health benefits of
vegetable medley versus succotash?
Or are they for the uni flatmates
walking huddled together for warmth or protection or both,
seeing as they're wearing only sandals and denim shorts
and this is the first time
they've been grocery shopping without mum,
that giggle loudly together to mask how homesick they really are
while they compare the calories in
Campbell's versus Progresso.
They went with Progresso if you were wondering.
Or are they meant for those who are cooking for one?
For those who have no need to compare prices
or calories
out loud.
For those who are well acquainted
with the old, familiar tiled aisles
as they have no one to take out to dinner.
Is this where they are to find company?
Betwixt the pages of a badly penned,
lighter than marshmallows,
more shallow than the kiddie pool,
more transparent than Casper,
not-good-enough-to-be-bloody-compost
"literary" garbage?
Is this -assumed- female
supposed to curl up with one of these slabs of drivel
and feel **** and aroused
in her baggy sweats and ill-fitting hoodie
after she ate a microwaveable chicken *** pie all by her lonesome?
As a single girl who often cooks for one,
I am offended by this.
Personally,
I think Lestat is ten times sexier than Edward,
Salai is way cuter than Fabio,
and Christian Grey couldn't S Mr. Rochester's D.
What I'm saying is-
Grocery Stores.
YOU are the primary reason for this pathetic f-ckery.
Everything else in the store can be compared for quality.
So why not apply that same knowledge
to the book arena.
Signed,
A Concerned Shopper
p.s. Please extend the validity date on the chicken *** pie coupon. Thank you!
Nov 1, 2013
Nov 1, 2013 at 10:57 PM UTC
There are a lot of misconceptions about Uni
Such as we all live lives like the ones off Hollyoaks
And that in order to survive
You need to be three things:
Beautiful
A party-animal
And an iron liver.
Sorry to disappoint you.
Those things are all nice:
Much like a free side with your sub
Or a red-letter day.
They’re nice –
But they’re not necessarily vital.
It’s not vital you fall in love with the first person you meet
It’s not vital you get with someone within Freshers
Like it’s a race and you’re Lyford Christie.
It’s not vital that you down half a bottle of Jager
To prove to your flatmates you’re a god
It’s not necessary.
Some of my best friends
Are quiet
But they are good
And I wouldn’t want them any other way
When we come together we have nothing but fun.
Without alcohol
Without drugs
Without 2am walkins
I know...
What’s this world coming to?
Nov 11, 2011
Nov 11, 2011 at 3:49 PM UTC
Whatever made me think,
That settling would do,
Did you settle for me,
Like I settled for you.
We live as flatmates you and I.
I'm you cook and I'm your maid,
But this is the bed I've chosen,
And in it I am laid.
Our relationship it has no love,
No passion, no desire,
Was I really so naive,
To expect a sparkless fire.
Is it time for me to walk away,
Before it is too late,
To find the love this woman needs,
To start with a clean slate.
Oh how I wish that I could just,
Get up, walk out the door,
But duty, guilt and vanity,
Keep my here once more.
I pray someone will find me,
And give me what I need,
The strength and love to make the change,
To reclaim, what is me.
Mar 5, 2010
Mar 5, 2010 at 7:08 PM UTC
Today, I stood underneath the bridge.
I looked up at how high I was going to fall in.
My eyes still hurt now from the tears I cried.
“No one cares about you” a voice whispered.
A loud ‘DING’ frightened me, it was followed by an annoying vibration.
They were calling me. They were worried about me.
I didn’t want to be under the bridge today.
The whisper led me here.
They tell me that once I’m gone, everything will be easier for everyone.
Then I think about my brother with no home.
My boyfriend left alone.
My siblings with no middle sister.
My class with no teacher.
My flatmates with no rent.
It would only be easier for me.
So I carry on, hoping that one day I’ll feel less empty.
Dec 9, 2021
Dec 9, 2021 at 6:07 AM UTC
She longs for home.
Stuck in this town
is taking its toll
on her.
Her flatmates
just don't give a ****
and students shout
outside her window
after a few.
She can't tell
if that boy likes her
or that guy
isn't interested.
All this hearsay
burns her ears.
Needs to get away,
relax in a more familiar
place with more familiar
people, pretend
that things aren't different.
She can remember
the good times,
outside the English room
on a warm June day
even though
she was revising for Science.
It'll be OK again soon.
Soon it will be back to normal.
Mar 12, 2012
Mar 12, 2012 at 4:00 PM UTC
I've fallen empty again as its Monday night and I'm forced into another word battle with my over bearing and under protective ****** flatmates
I don't know if I believed drugs ruined souls until I saw your hearts turn to vicodin art projects and your eyes to steel blades
I thought love was a four letter word with nothing but warmth radiating from its vowels but now I know it to be a cold noun which is to be thrown at me when I'm not wanted in your presence
Straws are for drinking hot coffee but yours are cut in two's and fueling nostrils with more than caffeine could ever hope to achieve
Mary Lambert claims she's touched trees with charred limbs but I'm watching two burn out of control and I know the thing about forest fires is that they don't tend to stop
Stop lying that youre trying your hardest to stop competing with caffiene and that your heart will soon again pump clean blood
We both know that lies and pills go hand in hand and soon each hand will be blue and cold and I sincerely hope you love each other because pretending you'll achieve what you can't possibly desire is a lonely way to go
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 10:40 PM UTC
Getting pizza,
Carbs to soothe the anger and indignity.
Getting a takeaway box,
cuz you don't scoff it in time,
to get to class.
Walking towards class,
then turning around.
Thinking you look crazy.
You can’t go today.
You were crying in the pizza shop alone.
You were building up to hyperventilation,
as you crossed the road
You get to your car.
You can’t drive right now.
So you cry and you hyperventilate,
you hyperventilate and you cry.
You think about how people
saw you doing that on the way over
It’s embarrassing.
You ring EPS and you hang up.
You ring the crisis line but hang up.
You’re embarrassed that you’re
making a phone call but you can’t talk.
A man called Peter answers.
He mishears your name 3 times,
cuz you’re gasping.
You’re embarrassed.
You spell out your name
as you always have to.
You’ve got a weird name.
Your chest is getting tight.
Your head is getting light.
He tells you, you need to breathe.
Hyperventilating can make you pass out.
You know.
You barely comprehend what this guy Peter is saying.
But you’re following his instructions;
you’re breathing.
It’s such an achievement.
But, **** This should be simple.
He asks you if you feel better.
You tell him you’re still worried about
What you’re worried about.
You lie down and cover your face with hair
when people you know walk past.
You hope they don’t recognise your car.
You’re driving to EPS,
You’re embarrassed.
You’re exhausted.
You take yourself and your pizza box inside.
You talk about what you’ve talked about before.
They have similar responses.
Tissues.
Breathing.
No-one knows you’re here.
You go home.
You’ve stopped crying.
You start crying again in the car.
You’re exhausted.
You cook dinner for your flatmates
They ask you how your day was.
You cringe thinking about the emails you sent
to classmates asking for their notes,
for the lectures you missed.
Jul 27, 2016
Jul 27, 2016 at 5:58 AM UTC
There are clouds to my right,
massive and grey,
they inch forward across the sky.
Beneath them a stationary sea of stone and cement.
Unmoving waves that’d swallow me if I dared leave my perch.
Around me are noises.
Epic echoes that lend themselves to imaginings of war zones.
In the distance I see flashes
Brief man made stars of red, white, and blue.
The clouds move in.
A silent rolling mass.
The temporary stars try to touch them.
Their lives are too short.
Shining down on me,
The moon smiles,
She knows what it’s like to be temporary.
To need the strength of others to shine.
To be born on path you can’t escape.
I don’t.
The star makers don’t.
The builders and sailors don’t.
We might think we do.
We think we do.
I glance behind me.
To beat up a room that is only ever filled with lonely nights.
To an apartment part of a tradition of temporary dwellers,
With a floor more ocean than the roofs around me will ever be.
New stars reach higher.
I see one peek out from behind a cloud.
My flatmates join me.
We watch the fireworks together.
Jul 13, 2017
Jul 13, 2017 at 9:33 AM UTC
I had popcorn with my
Flatmates and we
Kept singing to the
Old songs we all
Knew.
We drank the wine I
Got at the festival and -
Hell, did it feel good to be
At home.
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 7:45 PM UTC