Select & click a poem to view & read:

'An empty house'

'My ex is around the corner'

'Scumbag'

 

An Empty House

She doesn’t want to go to an empty house.

With the only light from the curtains crack

And the tap dripping to the beat of

Silence.

She doesn’t want to go to an empty house

Where unused cups sit beside uneaten bagels

And tea towels remain uncreased,

Where eggs stay unbroken and

The bread is deceased.

You see, she wants the splash of the tap

Filling the cup, bites into the bagel,

Caffeine driven conversation

And she wants to just watch.

She doesn’t care about the chats

Context or facts

She wants to sit back

Be the audience for a while,

Sinking into the synchronisation of sounds

She doesn’t want to go to an empty house

She enjoys the echoes of others

Woes and worries they uncover,

She Leisurely listens to their laughter

Because always, always, after

Her house is empty but her mind’s full.

 

 

My ex is around the corner

The annoying, exasperating existence 

Like living bacteria from a distance,

Or bed bugs under your cover

Of an irritating ex lover,

Like recurring meningitis 

A bad migraine or cystitis, 

Being struck by lightning twice

Seeing the ex is never nice,

 

Peculiar and impetuous

Society is incestuous,

It hinders, grates and vexes

When bumping into your exes,

 

Haunting like a spirit

Or a lingering distasteful lyric,

As you clasp with desperation

At avoidance from conversation,

 

Like an off Sambuca 

Or violent verruca,

They were never here when needed

Now it’s like they’ve been bleedin breaded,

 

In the past they weren’t present 

Like bad breath that’s unpleasant,

like a one stop pop up shop

 appear as you’re about to cop,

 

On every friend list and news feed

Like a new dirty dog breed,

 Reminders on twitter

It really is a shitter,

 

You’d have watched the Men in Black

Back to back,

And then Shaw Shank Redemption

Before getting their attention,

 

Like a fart in a lift

A smell you’d like to shift,

An ex-fabreze invention

Would lift this hypertension,

 

A real life solution

To the online pollution,

Of a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend

Another facebook memory with a hand to lend,

 

Like a wine stain that won’t shift

Weights that won’t lift,

Their presence is present 

but so dam unpleasant,

 

Like antibiotics that won’t work

Or a cough you can’t shirk,

Or conjunctivitis with no fear 

Oh how I wish my ex would fucking disappear.

Scumbag

 

Like a blackhead on my nose

I see you every day

Dressed in stolen clothes

Your existence is my dismay 

 

Your pitch to poverty is perfected

To everyone around

Your verbal shit is infected

And it’s never your round

 

Like chlamydia your hidden

Lurking behind the scenes

You should be forbidden

To mix with human beings

 

Your aura is like Dettol

Killing everything in sight

Your grin is like a nettle

With no dot leaf for respite 

 

Like the royal mail

Your cheques in the post

You’re a fabrication of a tell- tale

A worse than most

 

You wouldn’t know a moral

If it punched you in the face

Over a penny you’d quarrel

You’re a dirty disgrace

 

Your award-winning whine

Even deafens the deceased

You were once doing time

 

Why the fuck were you released?