We Met At The D&D Due

I only popped round from the corner on a whim
What other treats could a Sunday afternoon provide?
The toenail clippings of a week schedule on the T.V
The breadcrumbs stocked in all the super markets
The lost puppies parading around the streets
The doctors have only given me 2 hours left
Before my brain cells shut down and my blood runs thin
For boredom itself has taken me to the other side

But If I must drop all traces of a indifferent facade
I couldn’t help but feel I’d of paid 10x my bus fair
Just to see you give me that look from behind your specifically
From behind the room, then for you to stroll on my way
Just to say hi, and to wean me into the rituals
I couldn’t say I’m green on the subject of table top
But I’ll keep those titbits to myself if you don’t mind
Just to make the joke I’ve only heard of Monopoly before

The moon bursts on the scene and foils my fun yet again
But the next week seems like an entire era’s away
So to tide me till then I offer you a brew in town
You say you have to run back for your nanna’s birthday due
But I’ll get you in front of my gaze yet my dear
Separated only by the coffee shop oak, I make a vow now

And when they ask how we first meet
I’ll tell them we met at the D&D due

*Written For National Poetry Month – 24/30*

A Sample Of Gritt

Oh mercy me what have I done?
I didn’t mean to turn this resort into a smouldering carter
I just wanted to have a little bit of fun
With another ‘God-Knows-Who’

Good little boys raised to be Angelic young men
Are always on the look out for taint among the diamonds
Your breath stinks of fags
And your parka reeks of weed
Take them blood stained hands
And cover these white skinnies with your pawprints
I need proof that for a night I had your validation
And I’ll carve my signature into your insides

The second lap of the Rollercoster comes to a close
And they shove me out into the following week
With lipstick still on collar
And a mark on my collarbone
It’s been 3 hours since then
And I still smell your perspiration on my top lip
I lay slumped in the back of my desk chair
You’ve saved me from all thought and emotion
I can’t think like this, and I can’t write like this
This must be how the addicts feel

It doesn’t matter how bad this way of living is for me
The scars and deformities it must leave on my mind
Just for a moment, just for an hour everything in the world
Just feels nice, if just for that moment

*Written For National Poetry Month – 23/30*

Failed Integration

Dear diary, it happened again
Society has shown me the back of it’s hand
And all I tried to do was coexist
Dear diary, it happened again
Society has spat on my brand new shoes
And all I tried to do was understand it

I tried to let my guard down again today
Attempting to slowly peel away
The years of perfecting the perfect persona
But like a moth to flame I never learn
I have no idea what it is I did
Now they’ve illuminated me with their bright red glares
It’s time to slink back away to the drawing board
And stitch together a new persona all over again

Do you see the bloody towels?
And the birthday gifts gathering dust?
That’s what’s left of your last attempt
To integrating with the everyfolk
An animal can only learn to mimic human mannerisms
No matter how convincing the mask and the dance
They can see right through you like jelly
The closer you get the harsher the kickback

Dear diary, it happened again
Society has shown me the back of it’s hand
And all I tried to do was not get in the way
Dear diary, it happened again
Society has spat on my brand new shoes
And all I tried to do was ask why it had to be this way

I’m all out of fight, I submit to your will
Just tell me what it is you want me to do
I’ll sit gag, bound and tied up by the hands
And you can pick me up by the strings
And make me act like everyone else
The type of person people are glad to see
A version of me that wasn’t born in this defective way
Maybe it’ll make them happy
Maybe it’ll make me happy…

*Written For National Poetry Month – 22/30*

It Ain’t Easy Being Sleezey

Oh now don’t be like that my love
You don’t have to let me down with a face like that
I know that you’ve heard my echoes
Bounce off the walls of your social circle
And like a Kitten curious about it’s new home
You wandered what could’ve made your friends
Make such haunting noises into the night
You just wanted to get your hands dirty
You just wanted to feel the same things pass through your body
In the middle of a blank diary limbo
I think anyone would’ve done the same

Come now don’t be like that my dear
You don’t have to leave with your stomach lurched like that
It’s a challenge to get any rush out of life these days
Faced with a plethora of roads
And no single idea what direction to take
Just a couple of nights to feel like a god
Like you have complete control of your life for once
Trust me I understand the appeal
And while I might be on a hunt for a queen
Who’s to say I couldn’t caress an ego or to on the way?

*Written For National Poetry Month – 20/30*

Always a (Nothing) Never a (Something)

I think that’s one litre too far
Of the infamous magical potion
Housed in the caves of the Spar
In exchange for credits I don’t have
Oh magical fluids grant me strength
To ignore anxieties and mistrust
She’ll be hanging around tonight
A beacon to my bug eyes
She was round here yesterday
Pillaging my passions
Placed her vicegrip on my throat
Conducted Electricity
With the iLoins charged
She’s off and out the door
Was I due a message in a bottle?
I don’t think I quite know anymore

Always a Tic Tac
Never the Sunday roast

From cute smiles
To vacant stares
From Admiration
To Deconstruction
From holding my hand
To shoving me away
From laughing at my jokes
To laughing in my face

Always a Little Chef
Never the Harvester

Last night; took me round the bend
Just to avoid association
She treats me like a joint
Smoke it before the teachers come
Now tonight; hides herself at the bend
Just to avoid conversation
She treats me like a mother
Don’t embarrass while she’s with her mates

Always the grab of the shaft in the car park
Never the drunken fuck in a hotel suite

They never cared
They’ll never care
It’s always like this
It’ll never be like that
They never cared
They’ll never care
It’s always like this
It’ll never be like that

*Written For National Poetry Month – 19/30*

And The Morning Will Come

Oh please sweet lord won’t you have mercy
Not the daylight, not the morning shine, not yet
The moisture hasn’t returned to my body yet
My love she can’t bare the weight of her eyelids
But alas our pleas fall on deaf ears
The defence of the curtains starts to break down
I think we must submit to the planets will
And start the new day

You’ll attempt to break into the world
Yawning in a frequency only designed for canine ears
I try and match it with a frequency of my own
While I mime out being stretched on a rack
As if to stretch my limbs just that 1cm longer
Now tomorrow’s a concept I can tackle

Oh how weak must us humans be?
That I must succumb to the nutritional needs
I’m choking on an overabundance of vitamin D
As I re-trace the walk of shame form the night before
Excited families decked out to tackle the coast
Little kids reeling for the drama of the playground
“You’ll overheat with that mop on your head”
Prophesizes the homeless sprawled on the floor

After I return with supermarket rations galore
I’ll sneak back into your burrow of quilts
My spirit animal’s the needy household cat
You could tell by the way I assault your arms with kisses
Getting more excited the longer your cute face is my sight
Now tomorrow’s a concept I can embrace

One more day with you~

*Written For National Poetry Month – 18/30*

Chloe

No many people could get away such a selfish ‘tude
To stride about carrying the scent of deceased fish
But when your still falling of the edge of boxes
After falling into a deep sleep, how could I stay mad?

When I return to the pits to refuel
After a hard day of doing a Oliver Twist
For a bowl of that employment gool
You always welcome me with a expecting look
Just a friendly reminder no matter how useless I feel
You would die of starvation if I wasn’t around

It’s always appreciated when you tolerate my rituals
The way I grit my teeth and scream into your ears
When you hide your feet in the fold of your belly
When your taking a nap on the armchair

When I return back to my studio
And I’m reeling behind the shower curtains
To apply antiseptic to my personal Picasso
You always demands a reservation on my lap
Treat me like your own personal Swiss-army throne
But no one else would fit the buck for you

Bitches gonna come and bitches gonna go
But you’ll always be the girl welcome in my home

*Written For National Poetry Month – 17/30*

It’s Hard To Watch People Squirm

Slumped with your pelvis pointing to the heavens
On a forgotten park bench underneath an oaks slouch
Caressed by the fog on a humid spring afternoon
I spot a familiar wince to trigger the mist in your eyes

There isn’t a grimoire in the land that could scratch the surface
Of the inner workings of the roulette wheel in your head
The one that decides how your going to see the world today
The one that despite all the drugs, steals control from your hands

Oh but I know that dice roll all to well
I was born with the same game of chance in my cortex
All I ever wanted was to let you know someone understands
I just wanted you walk the streets with a smile again

It was never an intention to be a pylon in your path
I just hoped maybe It’d steer you away from any more aches
But you just plough through me at top gear, as if I wasn’t there
Just to make your way to the next pothole to fall down

Oh how it ties my gut into a Shroud knot
When I see you shriek in pain from your pedestal
It’s an impulse to feel a twinge of guilt
Maybe I could’ve taken the bullet you aimed at your head?

What do I have to do to get your attention?
What do I have to do to not receive the palm of your hand?
I can’t be your distributor of impulses on the side
Is that all I could be for you to listen to me?

I never ment to make you cry
To make you lose your mind under the street lights
I just wanted to see these things though
I didn’t want leave you alone without knowing I tried

*Written For National Poetry Month – 16/30*

A Matter Of Time

It always conducts a glissando up my spine
When I spot your clan tracking at my sanctuaries
I don’t claim to have the deeds to these locals, but surely you know?
I wouldn’t leave these premises just for your consideration?
Are they scouts? Sniffing for my co-ordinates?
Are you hiding in smokers planning your tactics
Using the finished cocktail glasses
As chess pieces like a military tactician

Are you under the impression I’m still enamoured with you?
I’m not saying the hypothesis isn’t true
It’s just when you find yourself stuck to me like glue
I wonder, what exactly are you planning to do?

Each heckle the dogs give me on the street,
Each Chinese whisper forcefully relayed to me
Each WooWoo beaker thrown at my head
Feels like the tick of the clock
I don’t think I could call in sick for this appointment
Not even if I wanted to
I can imagine you coming up to me at the bar now
With a familiar smile, and a view to kill

Are you under the impression I still think of you all day?
If you don’t mind I’ll keep the answer to that one at bay
But when you do decide for us to meet in your little play
I wonder, what exactly were you gonna say?

This Poem Has a squeal:
http://thetartanprelude.tumblr.com/post/83517596383/a-matter-of-time-pt-2

*Written For National Poetry Month – 13/30*

Own

I mean… I don’t mean to complain
But I guess lately It feels like I’ve dropped in your priorities
Like an old wooden beaded bracelet
Brought from an old gypsy stall
And handed down to you by a summertime lover
Once you found a way to fit me in
No matter the outfit or the weather
But I’ve fallen down the side of the bed
And to the back of your mind
You never really paid me heed since then

That was until you caught a glimpse
Of the girls who received my bracelets in summers past
Your eyes light up, I imagine like a housewife’s
Who’s discovered their fine china has a 4 figure worth
And suddenly you act like my new necktie
As you caress the base of my shoulders
Not unlike a fox skin you shoot the offenders a dead eye stare
They can’t second guess; is she wild or tamed?
Would she ward them off in heroic defence?
Or would the murderous intent of pride overtake her senses?

If I ever questioned your devotion before
I had no doubt that I was your man now

*Written For National Poetry Month 12/30*