It’s just a boy taking off your underwear
To lift hips and watch elastic cascade down
Your thighs. I try to look more at my flattening belly
Then what is about to be done to me.
I don’t moan as much as other acts in
Fact I don’t believe anyone’s happened
To blow my mind since the first time we
Discovered mouth and fingers.
At times I think, I wonder if it
To be polite to throw in a moan,
A noise to ensure not total silence
(Cos that is awkward now isn’t it and sex is awkward enough)
No one would wanna fuck me right now anyway
For reasons I’d rather not explain
So past feats and highlights continue to revolve
Around. Images of on-top pulling, coming
Sideways saying phrases
Eyes and hair and anger and grips
Pulling this way, that way.
I’ll sit in bed and get hotter
Clammy, worry for future
Copulations complicating the idea what if it’s
Not as good as I had it before?
Flesh doubts, worry well you had to force
A cuddle out of so many. Fuck it.
And what other way to trick confidence than to be cocky
To drink my coffee although my bellies
Getting sludgy like it did before gap year but to read
This and look at me won’t evoke any sympathy
From you my reader for they all say I’m tiny
And I am. Just not as flat as I liked riding my bike
Here there and everywhere did! Feel good!
And now I need to think of ways to accumulate monay
Because although the jobs good I hope I keep it
I hope it makes me better but they fuck up the pay
And it’s the end of every month and I already feel like
I’m struggling. I guess this is growing up.
You are not your mind
And the perceptions you create
And the pangs you feel and the
This not need be you
To worry about the Fridays
Coming up will there be no one
But my awesome twosome? everyone
Is gone and they hate me
He hates me but I am sat. Content. To read and still
Create the poems the mind babble still there
To worry perhaps to write more is to
Think more bad thoughts or a way if thought dumping?
To take and place and leave and let it sit stale
On pages rather than stew and stew and stew
And to use old words, half considered, and create something beautiful from them.
to know that the thoughts you can watch
Rather than let them remain
Bundled up and you jumping in head first so that they.
And to honk you knew yourself so well
And the life built up around you
Aged eighteen, nineteen? Grasping everything
To the t and now you’re back from holiday
Back from our Crete
And words and words and words will help and understand
But still when your left alone
Put on the telly and let it drone
Put on something silly. And you’ll be who you want
Oh yes you do like -
And you did and you do and you can’t push it down
And pretend you don’t. Because you do and you can’t pretend
That all the bad and good parts don’t make up you.
You can’t cut up yourself and hope you’ll fit shapes.
Telly telly life
And my coffee and all my cigarettes that
Keep my fingers busy keep
My mind happy.occupied.
I read an article on how technology
Changes your life, biology brain
The phantom vibration syndrome
Endorphins released like drugs
Like the things I place in hands so I’m
Sitting still for hours but not
As I watch the phones screen and wait wait wait
Even if the words I drag from my brain
Are boring and not me and not
Even what I want to talk about.
And I guess I gotta realise I’m not
In our paradise anymore and no
One ever has enough patience as you did.
I wanna break the rules without being rude.
You, who have carried me through puppies adolescence
Fat and ice broken even though you turned me grey.
Learning to roll with the second
Told off by my first for trusting in you
Of I want so,etching I worriedly
Buzz towards its. Around it. Whack whack whack the window
Let me in! Let me in!
No one wants to let he bug in
But the puppy playing I the garden
Uh. What. What
No! A bee! Who leaves the garden
Untamed, wild weeds disorder, obscenities
Spittered under hushed lips
The pricks of my nails in arms flesh
Oh me oh my
I do feel rough
And tired I’ve slept and slept and yet
Still inside I’ve got bamboo sticks
Poking through and sticking to the ground
So I have to pluck each part of me off
On, off, on
Like the shoes of footballers. Golfers. Sports!
Energy! Sports! Watching the kettle boil
When you know by now there’s no point
It’s a little sad but there’s nothing you can do except
Find another happiness
Hot po ta toe
And get so angry
The hand, upon the hand, upon the hand
Slip it out and then
Where is the end?
Where was the pain?
Upon the hand. Upon the hand.
Twenty minutes in the shower.
Walking thru. Burgess,
The advert, film showing at night
This weekend. Sky plums; vinegar fizz spill the red froth and juices
Which sprout. Drip down dappling the apple-dore leaves,
The football kicked it’s way to me. Tanned high heel
“You can join my team!”
Aubergines. Smiley smiley smiley smokey
Smoke. Toke. Toke.
!!’ @&. +
It’s fine to brush your teeth before.
I couldn’t lick a carpet you know, the texture on your tounge,
the little pin pricks that stick in your taste buds
g across. Drawing finger in sand.
Ergh! I can’t stand it! That + rubbing
Yo feet. Bare sweaty feet.
Oh goodness please
Oh mercy me
What can it be?
Another - but to be true is to be crystal clear.
No! Keep it under wraps, clamped shut
Don’t wanna come across like an
Sunshine drys us out
I’ll point my shins to suns eyes so he might
Tan them for once.
Rabbit tattoo green staring at me
We threw water over ourselves
And the patio filled up with our energies
Feet stomping, splashing
Trickling down the gutter
And laughing and screaming
And rolling a joint
The sky is blue. It is so blue
Not a cloud in sight the sun
Is staring me down in the right
One with a briosct bun
Or a pie
Lying in the sun
And timehops just reminding me I never got to do this last year
Not having a decent phone to write on has meant I’ve been very slack with the poetry. Very sorry. I’ve written a few on my iPad which I’ll publish all now and I’m gonna try and upload the collection I did as a free ebook. Stay tuned.
I’m hoping once I get an iPhone again I’ll try and revitalise this project and make it a little less vague. Right now I cba