So yesterday I invented a game. It’s called Whack-An-Arsehole. Any time an arsehole pops up from its dingy little hole to cause me or anyone I love grief, stress, offence, I’m going to smash them with a mallet. Definitely metaphorically, maybe literally, if the logistics are right.
Here is a poem. It is based on something someone once said to me.
Someone once told me the fact I swear
means I have a limited vocabulary.
I think what he meant to say was
that any tutelage I received in my youth,
In hessian days of pulchritudinous bliss,
was demonstrably diminished
if I felt no other option was afforded
to me than to resort to profanities.
In any case, I think if anything,
the fact I swear means much, much more
For example, it means I know how to use
the fullest extent of language to get what I want.
If you walk into the centre of a room,
you clearly want the spotlight on you.
If you are meek and mild-mannered,
you aint gonna get it.
However, you walk to the centre
of that room and shout
people are going to pay attention.
I think swearing makes me more sexy.
While you meek people
I am fucking.
It means I have met far more varied
people than you can imagine.
I have not spent my life trapped in
a little bubble of decorum.
Plus, everyone swears,
just as sure as everyone shits.
I bet even the Queen does it.
‘Oh bollocks Phillip.
The damn corgies have shat on the lawn again.’
And you aint calling the Queen uneducated.
No, you aint.
So shut the fuck up.
Here is a poem. The prompt is ‘wasted life’ by #DSPoetry
The tick of the clock
deafens in time to metronomic words
‘You have wasted your life.’
Here is a poem. The prompt is ‘I am your father’ from #GeekVerses
I deserted you,
rather than raise you.
My head in the stars
but when your heart
is palpitating with shock
I will be there.