So confused, what’s this cage?
Without trees i become enraged
(eyes darting up and down)
So painful, as needle stings
Where’s the comfort of my mother
(banging body left and right)
So in fear, as the knife cuts,
my only friend called Anaesthetic
(life moved in…and then moved out).
Posted in iv. Third Party Leftovers
Tagged anesthetic, animal cruelty, animals, banana, cage, monkeys, needle
NEWSFLASH: Sweaty Dog is Freed!
Do you know where the prisoner is?
(Eyeshot by TV, shouting at the mind)
Do you know where the prison is?
(Done territory, boredom dined)
The old dog took a terror walk
lower than the sweaty Point,
lower than the rocks and whores;
all in all, to an awkward joint
“‘Til death do us part” met its match
when he smiled and lost his heart
to a wettened devil
in an unwagered game of catch
“Never mind” he said “for it was old
(and it’s high time I lost some weight)
My blood may run slower
but slugs don’t mind the cold
All I need is a tree to piss on
(to mark my grave),
a map and a flapping soul
towards rock ‘n roll and hedonism”
Do you know who the prisoner is?
(Judas views and weathered testament)
Do you read reflections well?
(Petrol slickened for eager flint).
Posted in iv. Third Party Leftovers
Tagged boredom, death, devil, hedonism, old, prisoner, rock n roll
Scurrying back and forth,
let me estimate my worth
I don’t have a job
so around bins I skulk and rob
to eat enough to live
and the world my children give
It’s a hard existence
with the petty persistence
of the screaming woman
who gets the bar showman
to jump up and down
without a frown
and try to squash me
when I’m just
as beautiful as can be.
If you enjoyed this, try ‘Hurley Burley Whirlies’, my fun poem on sex and the scariness of love.
Posted in iv. Third Party Leftovers
Tagged bar, children, cockroach, existence, humour, job, screaming woman
I was drinking a beer
when she came along,
minding my own business
when my ding went dong
She said “I want a man like you”
With my brains in my balls,
i forgot to ask why
Instead, found myself by way of comply
Five days, ‘hundred times later,
i didn’t have a clue
when she dropped three bombs,
“I LOVE YOU!”
So i said “Woman, GET REAL”
My head invited my brain back
and i was out the door
A bottle of Jack’s later,
safely passed out on my floor
Love hurley birley mad whirlie words
You give me the hurley birley whirlies
with your love-mad words
Hurley birley whirlies with your mad-love words
One was standing on the corner
when i came her way,
reached for my wallet,
saying “It’s safer to pay”.
After an awful break-up, i had a rare day with humour (not chauvinism) which poked fun at relationships with this poem. If you found this funny, check out my short comedy about Georgie Bumwheel who gets drunk, dies and goes to heaven…and hell.
Posted in iv. Third Party Leftovers, Wicked Lyrics
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