"wooz" poems
i like that phrase, what a handsome
ransom to pay a man into
transcending being a pen-pal
and instead a constant atmosphere of attention,
like: ooh honey pooh bear,
you take that earl grey tea of yours with
honey or light-brown shoo gar?
no wait, i said camomile, i didn't say two kids!
and when they think they know you,
they anonymously "think" / purposively insinuate
you'd actually say that sort of **** in your
day-to-day exercises of: ah wait, sun's been here
before, right?
exactly, there's no pooh bear here for you -
there's me, my shadow, a football dribbled for
2 miles to state... well... eh;
of the cursed alignment - (she) oh look at me
peacock look at me peacock all with l'oréal
slogans and cosmopolitan magazine quizzes -
(he) i say, when you tried being a womaniser
after discarding all long-lived potential mates,
your only salvation comes in a chocolate-box
of celibacy and jokes, where you're forever
the no. 1 joke - well, someone had to dangle on
the crucifix, but as Patti Smith and Shaggy said:
it wooz'ent n00b me.
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 6:19 PM UTC
you spoke so highly of the
unique
charm
of your city. i went out tonight
to find it.
i didn’t find it.
your city is
the same
as all the others.
streetlamps,
licking
their yellow tongues
into every infected puddle
and street gutter
- the same.
the stench of homelessness,
pouncing
from blankets
huddled together in
bank doorways
- the same.
bus stop prostitutes,
scavenging
for a warm
place to
sleep
- the same.
vacuous chatter,
swarming
through the cracks of
another
bar
- the same.
hometown heroes,
snorting and grunting
over possession of a woman
in their own trojan war
alley brawl
- the same.
intoxicated lovers,
wooing each oth
er with there wooz
y may
ting dnace
- the same.
two a.m. loneliness,
limping
back
to
my
hotel
alone
- the same.
your city is
the same
as all the others.
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 5:17 PM UTC