I’ll Let You Keep That False Sense Of Superiority

It’s coming up to 5 minutes past 3
And before us all the best holligan repelling bars
Are coming under lock down in front of our very eyes
My platoon has no choice but patrol the slums
The kind of bar filled with seedy salary man
The ones who turn a blind eye to personal boundaries
The kind of gross specimen I find side by side with my rendezvous
With a sigh I walk on over to be introduced

You then turn in my general direction
Tilt your head like you would a toddler
Carrying the burden of a hastily cast, plaster cast
And put on the pout on your lips
At the news of my autistic blood
You tell me how your so sorry
How that’s such a shame for me to be this way
How I’ve roll the dice and got snake eyes

I find that funny you would talk to me that way
Like a old fisherman’s pup, missing a hind leg
Because your not to know this, but me and your ex lady
The one you’ve been awkwardly gyrating on the dancefloor
Receiving the same reactions as an electric bill in the mail
Yeah we’ve been at it for the last month
You make comments about I can’t do things like the normies
Oh she doesn’t seem to think so not at all
Reading back the reviews it’s clear I’ve surpassed you
No I might not be the talkative lad at bars
Sometimes the washing up can be confusing
But is that really a price to pay for what I gain?
You won’t admit it but you’d kill to be me right now

*Written For National Poetry Month – 28/30*

An Attempt With The Dating Scene In Colchester

I’m really interested in hearing about your favourite TOWIE moment
I’m really interested in hearing about how much you hate your manager
I’m really interested in hearing about your unique reasons
Of why the latest American Hollywood series is ‘tops’

I didn’t think you’ve heard off any activities to get your heart burning
I didn’t think you’ve heard off any song to evoke a feeling inside
I didn’t think you’ve heard off anything to catch your interests
Outside of reality show tidbits to fill the silence at the water cooler

Of course you look lovely tonight
Of course you look pretty tonight
Of course you look gorgeous tonight
Cos’ you all look so similar

What do I think of your personality?
What do I think of your personality?
What do I think of your personality?
I can’t say I spotted one

Sulking all on your own
Leaning by your skull
On the promotional material
For NVQ 1 graduates in Albeton live

Seeing all the chickens in this coop
Clucking the same old meme’s
Bragging about taking the same old drugs
But look at them leaning on each others chests
Yeah, must be nice…

There’s no point in fighting fate
In fighting the inevitable
There’s no migrating with the herd
No integrating with the school

And if you could take back
A pretty young thing back to your pad
Would it be worth the taxi fare
If conversation dies after you offer a cup of tea
The next morning

*For National Poetry Month – 3/30*

And If She Doesn’t Come Back Around… (W.I.P)

It feels like i’ve been playing tiddly winks with my time
Throwing away days and days into a discarded lunchbox
Like a schoolchild killing time, bobbing at the edge of their seat
As the clock flirts with the idea of striking quarter past 3
Just waiting for that rumoured telegram from your end
To signify your return to our beloved rock
Ideas of dipping our feet in the riverbed
While gorging on pre-planned ham sandwiches
Parade my mind like everyday’s a new Mardi Gras
Made to heighten the anticipation of tasting your mouth

Oh gem stoned eyed lady, I understand the confusion
But don’t let my solitude deceive you now
I’m less a wolf on patrol at the park gates, waiting to be fed
I’m more akin to an aktia, waiting for its master on the porch
I can see you position your hands on the bar
With the precision of an open heart surgeon
Like rooks on a chessboard, ready to claim the king
But I feel I must remind, I’m loyal to my queen
Ready to get down on my knees the very moment
That she decides to grace the streets again

But this time next week, if you see me alley bound
Like a lost pup left out in the pouring rain
Lacking the usual collar, now with no one to call my own
You’re welcome to give me shelter
Take me in your arms and take me home
And while you’re at it, take away all the grief
That comes with being abandoned on the doorstep
It takes a heart of pure gold to take in a mutt like me

Oh emerald gazed woman, I’d of tried to make you smile earlier
But I could never betray her, who showed me silver lined mornings
In a sea of gray tainted days, I could never break the heart
Of a saint who never asked for it, but in light of these events
An empty inbox, and a reservoir of unspent affection
Maybe I’ll take you up on that drink

I Can Show You, What He Could Never Give You (W.I.P)

My fists clench with a force to crush diamonds themselves
When I hear that testimony utter from your lips
Could it really be so, during the age of information?
That inexperienced young minds could confuse that for love?
When he picks apart petrol station oaks to commemorate a landmark
When he leaves you frowning on the mattress on valentine nights
When he keeps positive vocabulary for ransom to keep you on his level
It’s gonna be a while till I pick my jaw from the floor

Oh my sherbet clad confectionery delight
Just itching to be taken home from the seaside stand
I’m not here to lug my bottom on cider stained leather
Advertising my self, by reading you my credentials
Point out every young pretty thing standing at the bar
Whom I’ve seen the very joints in their cheeks come apart
As they attempt to articulate the serge of electrons
I’ve conducted through their very forms
That would be rather crass of me to say here and now

I want you to take a shot into the unknown
I want you to open the ribs in your chest
To take a chance on the unfamiliar
To open your eyes to a world past a single body
Did he ever run his fingers through your hair?
Did he ever scrape his jaw against your neck?
To get the engines to warm up?
To get you in the mindset to make the offer yourself?

I doubt he had neither the time nor the care honey
Scrubbed the plaque of his choppers in math class
And left you for dead underneath his desk
That’s not love dear, that’s being picked apart by the wolves
I can bow down at your feet, the second I see your shadow cast
I wouldn’t just get the feeling back in your feet
I can make sure the feeling pours from your very sockets
You just don’t know it yet my princess

True Femininity

A familiar drone infests the bar like tinnitus
It’s that of a innocent young thing of feminine decent
As tonight’s sideshows swarm to the last safe-heaven
Their clammy mitts play the role of the intruder
To locations only devotes and nannies should dare to probe
As she just stays stationary to the whole affair
Waiting for the horns of the masculine resistance
To come from the hill tops

Oh how refreshing it was to see you: stanced like a barbarian
As you watch his fingers slowly hover to the fringe of your jeans
Micro-molecules from collision, like a samurai wielding her katana
Your nails tear through his insufferable clans reptilian emblem
At a drop of a brow, he’s out the door

Oh sweet dear Bodacia
I’m unapologeticly devoted to you
Just bind me up do what you want to too
To feel the rush of a gash wound
From the heel of your regal studded boots

I’m yours to command, tell me what to do
I’m inspired by the mere comprehension of you
When I see the school dinner line of boys
Extending from where you stand at the bar
With their tails between their legs, Faces dropped like a Bulldog
There’s no misunderstandings, no unconsenting advances
A regular Kathleen Hanna for the Topshop age

Oh sweet dear Joan of Arc
I’m blind-sighted by the concept of you
Pin me up by the trachea till I turn blue
Drop me to the cobblestones under the moons hue
The boys might migrate to the smokers
When you showcase the canine choppers
But their isn’t anything I wouldn’t do
To get that look from you