Booze Blues

I
know
the
time is
coming

Although
I’m not
quite
there
yet

When
all
I’ll
feel is
hungover

And
full
of
fucking
regret

Self Portrait #1

Both a rhymer and a charmer

She only sticks around for drama

Writing with a screw loose or two

She isn’t scared of an expletive or few

Mourning the loss of her true love

She knows there’s no-one up above

Kind, caring and empathetic

She isn’t very sympathetic

Often scathing but often witty

She has a penchant for the nitty gritty

Sometimes joking sometimes smart

She weeps with her broken heart

Enamoured with music, wine and song

She knows with those she can’t go wrong

Shotgun

At
this
point
I’ll
try
anything

She
said

It
can’t
do any
harm

Then
you
should
take
this
one

He
said

It’ll
work
like a
charm

Shaking Spears

‘When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions ‘

‘Tell me about it, my friend, that’s why we deserve fucking medallions’

Love Bites

You
wore
your
roll
neck
jumper

So
you
thought
I wouldn’t
see

But
believe
me I
know
full
well

Those
marks
weren’t
left
by me

Masterplan

The
candle
grows
dimmer

As my
patience
wears
thinner

Whilst
I wait
for the
steel
to bolt

My
temper
a simmer

As
you
think
you’re
the
winner

Yet I
plan my
peasants’
revolt

Hermitry

What if
I’m
enjoying
the new
normal

That
now I
finally
feel on
track

What
if I’d
like
to stay
this way

With
no
desire
to go
back

Random #30

‘…And if all that there is

Is this fear of being used

I should go back to being lonely

And confused…’

Old Hat

You’ve
been
on my
mind
today

More
than
any
other
time

If only
it had
inspired
something
epic

And
not this
fucking
awful
rhyme

Dear Stevie

If we
could
meet

We’d
drink
a brew

And
maybe
share

A
laugh
or two

Yet we
would
know

At the
end of
the day

What
connects
us both

Is
life’s
decay

Precipice

Grab
onto
this

He
said

It’ll
be
fine

It’s
one
I made
myself

I’m
not
sure

She
said

It
might
not be
safe

I’ve
seen
you
put
up a
shelf

The Disengagement Party

I saw you looking

Over dinner

Your smile discreet

Hers a winner

I realised there

Was something more

When she sashayed

To the dance floor

I knew it then

In revelatory style

It’s obvious we

Won’t walk up the ailse

Quieten Down(er)

I’ll
take
anything
you’ve
got to
give

A drink;
a smoke,
a sedative

As the
voices
in my
head
these
days

Are
proving
far too
competitive

Sylvia’s Sister

Maybe I’ll drink until I’m sick

Maybe I’ll dance like a prick

Maybe I’ll smoke ten to the dozen

Maybe I’ll put my head in the oven

Either way one thing is true

It’s got fuck all to do with you