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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

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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

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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

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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’

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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

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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

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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

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Random #30

‘…And if all that there is

Is this fear of being used

I should go back to being lonely

And confused…’

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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