It's when you love the wrong woman
Valentines is a traitor's heart
broken in two
Pieces of a queen's tart
Lay it on thick
Holding all the cards
She's ready to take their heads
Queen of broken hearts
How I wish you were dead
I thought I loved a woman
But in fact I loved the wine
That's where thinking gets you
Thinking, such a waste of time
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Returning to old blighty
It feels oh so mighty
With it's castles and mists
And memories of being kissed
In the dams and caravans
In the Springs and the Wells
Where I sprung a Welsh leek
And held a Scottish thistle
And the teacher blew their whistle
And I ran to pick up the sandbag
And I can't run anymore
I've been run down
Until I'm sore
Primary school against the wall
Counting down
Turning around
Looking for the wolf
He's always at your back
Ready to attack
Coming back to good old blighty
What a mighty time we had
But who are the good
And who the bad
How can we forget?
How can we ever be sad
Except what else do you do here
Kiss the salty sand
Wait for one gland after another to pack up
Take up the slack and bear the share
The burden
It's no curtain to draw
No blanket of sack cloth to wear
Nothing is for certain
It's all fair
Love and war
You've been trained for
Ever since you grew up
In good old blighty
They train you to be mighty
Have a mighty heart
And to save the ones you love
For you to play your part
They told you how to live
How to run the game
How to take and how to give
And how to feel love and shame
And that's why blighty's in your bones
That's why you are always called home
But that's why you must escape the chrome
Nelson, the brass buckles
The shining buttons and waistcoats
The statues in museums
You saw history through
Like a peach black wind through hair
But love was a cummerbund
Of your joy and despair
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
She's a good boat, she's a good boat
She's a very good boat to me
I like her lines
I like her curves
I'd walk her planks
But I'd always swerve
She's a good boat for me
I want to row right onto her ocean
It's like she's the vessel of my emotion
She carries me oft, hard or soft
Let the waves lash or the winds us blow off
Course, of course
I'll hold her straight, because I'm tied to her fate
She's a good boat, she's a good boat for me
I think we could float on the raging sea
She's a good boat, she's a good boat
She's a good boat for me
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Like butterflies' eyes
Falling eyelashes from the skies
Like bombshells falling on windmills
Like sky thrills filling
The windowsills
With sly shys, with nice guys
And dolls
And ice cold
souls
Like bombshells
falling on windmills
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Gravity lane
Fallin down
Down on my luck again
In gravity lane
Wishing well quarter
I threw a dime in the water
Gravity pulled me in
I forgot how to swim
Won't you pull me out
I don't wanna drown
In the town
where it rains
forever and a day
Down gravity's lanes
Gotta walk on the moon
I'm gonna leap pretty soon
It's gonna be like a swoon
But it might take me til June
Cos here gravity's thick
Just like your lipstick
And I could float on your lips
Only your rip tide rips
And gravity pulled me down
Don't wanna wear this crown
It's heavy as horns
My little crown of thorns
So won't you tear it off
I love you hard not soft
But I can't wear your cloth
It drags me down to earth
And I need to be free
Cos I'm made of gravity
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
She I can't follow
Up and down like a yoyo
There's the new moon
Better let her know now
She, I can't follow
Silver thread to her bed
The Waning Crescent
She's the lady in red
She, I can't follow
I'm like a rainbow on the blink
The Third quarter
She gives me a wink, I think
She, I can't follow
Her summer swallow
The Waning gibbous
Her wax wings I kiss
In her wax work museum
And the full moon
Was I a loon crying at noon?
Was it a neap tide
Was she a true bride?
Had she lied? We all lie
It's just the phases of the moon
It's only true at that time
The waxing gibbous
She was melting like a candle
Too hot to handle
I never tried
The first quarter hid us
Occluded from the light
I saw a polaroid flash
I saw a polar bear dash
Across a wire and I didn't care
The Waning crescent slid
Down our throats
Like a lemon slice
Like a glass of wine it disappeared
Brought into focus
The sharp taste
Bitter as leaving your lover
And that's how I follow her
like the phases of the moon
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
After the glitter had fallen
The ball had stopped spinning
The music turned off
The costumes were hanging on their hangers
The models had danced their socks off
After the manikins of bodkins
Had scaled the omphalos of night
After the slim ones, the trim ones
Had returned their souls to the light
After their bodies and shoddies
Had shouldered their blames and their shames
After the love of their eyes had smouldered
In their ear's last refrain
After their mouths had powdered and chowdered
and lisped their clasps undone
Then I knew that I was older, but not
colder for the sun had still shone
As the hall let down its decorations
Like a dog shaking off
As a christmas tree moults its needles
So spring crept into our midst
And winter was a burnt out candle
That really no one could handle or miss
Still I knew I was a vandal for the words
I'd used when instead I should've kissed
Yet Jesus still lay on the cross
And Mary Magdalene cried at his feet
And all the holy wine had cost
The word forgiveness spread on the street
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.