Editors Christopher and Keri – #PoemADayForAYear: 03/04/15. NaPoWriMo Day Three

It has gotten quite late. I shall do a full post about some things tomorrow, including our Kickstarter and Do The Write Thing. For now, however, please accept two poems from both myself and the beautiful Keri as recompense for no disconnected thoughts tonight.


I don’t understand the obsession with the night club scene,

drinks overpriced, music blaring, revelers wide-eyed, keen

for a great night out. To a shiny little bar they go

to drink Red Bull by the bucketload, dance and maybe show

they’re not who they seem to be, working on the 9 to 5.

When the weekend hits, this town acquires a certain vibe

as the white t-shirt, scruffy jeans and over-smart shoes show

in the place where whitened teeth and bad fake tans tend to glow.

They stand at the bar, in a row, all clones and all called Darren.

Waiting for the girls, with too short dresses, call them Sharon.

On a deep winter’s night, hot pinks and blacks, not forgiving,

but, on this night, a woolly jumper would be misgiving.

How can they show the bad tan lines when they are covered up?

Size eights and tens, so they say, daringly squeezed into cups

way too small, not that they mind, nor the men, they do obey

the call of their cocks when they offer drinks. ‘Yeah, course, we’ll pay’

They queue at the bar, hoping to score, getting drinks a-plenty.

Two vodka cokes, make them double, just covered by twenty.

They stand in their droves, gently swaying to dub-step hardcore,

while others smoke outside, in the whip, huddled by the door.

By the end of this fine night, the floor sticks to under-soles

with spilled drinks, the general chaos of complete arseholes.


I am young, a small child in a world built for right handers.

I am starved in school by a lunch lady who still believes

In the teaching that every left handed person is evil.

When my mother found this out, we made sure she had no job.

Ink smudges stain my skin and leave trails across the cream page.

When, for a short time I attempt to screech the violin,

I was relieved to find that I didn’t have to share mine.

Eventually I progress to writing in biro.

Now I use a laptop and finally, no more smudges.

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