Hi. Here's some poems. Say things about them if you like, say nothing about them if you like. They have no rhyme, vague pattern, and are just spouts. If it's your thing, please enjoy.
this is my chicken soup, it's for my soul
i'm writing it in notepad
and without capitals
take my metaphor and swallow it whole
this is my little requiem, it's for my audience
who never really listen
but they'll pretend to
take my words and spit them back
this is my life, it's for my mother
one day she'll die
and i will too
take my life and just keep going
this is my breath, it's for the air
returned to where
it should be
take my words, grab my see oh too
this is my heart, it's for the world
to grab at
to look at
take my blood, and drink your wine
this is my cigarette, and it's for my soul
one day it'll kill me
with my mother i'll die
take my lungs and watch me sink
without breath
i'll fall deeper
alone as we are
but then again that could
just be
the point of this whole thing.
South House
yes, well, it's tuesday
what was it cat stevens said?
'tuesdays are dead'
yes, mother****ers, we know you've got no classes tomorrow
STOP SCREAMING
IT IS THREE IN THE MORNING
bunch of wankers
and so the english descend
into the house across my car park
just beyond my window
they steal Lidl trollies like it's going out of fashion
'DRINK MORE CIDER!'
then do their degrees on laurie lee
(they'd miss that joke)
i know this isn't a poem
but i give not a shit
these drunken children
are keeping me awake
DOING A DEGREE IN HUMAN RESOURCES
QUALIFIES YOU FOR NOTHING
LEAST OF ALL INHIBITING MY SLEEP
it's alright though
know why, south housers?
it's because I win
that you lose
most of life
because you're a bunch of ****ing twats
Marta's bringing her airgun back from Poland
oh, children, then you will know...
annoy myself, the seagulls, and a dark Pole
all that will be left of you will be the rest of your soul
and mine'll get rest too
neat, huh?
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