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Tag Archives: Words

He Dreamt Of Chickens

He dreamt of chickens

Every night

Woke every morning

Filled with fright

KFC brought him

Much delight

Batter them all

Batter them all

chicken grit copyswm

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Taught – A Very Short Story

He didn’t appreciate my writing. My speeches were too long. Too dramatic. Too time consuming.

Peck pecked at strangers words while rubbing his own pen. That’s what makes a great teacher, right?

I listened to his play on Radio 4. The characters said nothing. I’d rather listen to a gobby pissed blonde tart on a street corner than that mumbling monotone.

And as he showed me the door I may have articulated that point far too well.

 
 

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Bad Advice

Don’t be taking other people’s words. You’ll get hives.

‘I give you these tips because it worked for me’. Yeah.

They read it in a magazine. Written by someone on a deadline.

Teacher teach their own bad advice

Strike out on your own

And if you want to put a bow on it then stick it on with whatever you want to

Long story short

Fuck ‘em

 
 

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Wasps – A Nightmare

I’ve cracked the bridge of my nose in my sleep. It’s red and swollen. I remember dreaming of wasps flying up to my face, crawling into my mouth and up my nose, pulling out my nose hair nip by nip . I am continuously terrorised in my waking life by the thought of insects crawling in my ear canal and dying, so I am shocked my psyche just didn’t take the easy route by getting the wasps to fly straight in, making a bee (HA) line to my cortex, snipping at my wires and fashioning them into a wicker man style structure before setting fire to it all and suffocating on the fumes. Guess my psyche was too tired. Fucking wasps. 

 
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Posted by on May 22, 2016 in Uncategorized

 

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My Lady – A Poem

Fart my lady fart

Let wind force your gusset high

Fart my lady fart

Let the turret breeze warm your thighs

 
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Posted by on March 18, 2016 in poem, poetry, Uncategorized

 

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If You Could – A Morbid Poem

If you were handed your own skull

Would you look inside?

Eyes open wide

And Bloodied

 

If you could feel your brain

Would you put your finger in

And throw in the bin

Your mistakes?

 

If you could squeeze out your heart

Would you stop that pain

That made you insane

For her sneer?

 

If you could reach your toes

Would you pull your sock

And cut them off

To stop running

 

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The Vegan and The Egg

It was then she suddenly realised that the retching smell of rotting egg was coming from under her train seat. Not to be the sort of person to draw attention to herself she pretended to drop her hand knitted glove and bent down to take a look. Every centimeter her head travelled downwards the stench got more and more potent. As she pulled her mousey hair from her eyes she saw it. A mouldy half eaten egg, possibly pickled, that had been expertly wedged between the metal struts of the train seat. It was green, yellow and grey, almost the same colours as the train company logo. She remembered that there was a new fish and chip shop that had just opened next to Wokingham train station, and how she was going to get a big bag of chips smothered in vinegar there after her forced overtime this evening and eat them on the train. The thought made her quickly lurch up while grabbing her glove in the process and looking wide eyed for an exit. As always the 7.42am train was rammed and the fat bearded man wedged in next to her huffed as she tried to levitate off the chair and away from the offending egg. Being vegan she almost shed a tear for the chick that was never born, and felt bad about leaving it, but knew if she used a tissue to remove the egg the smell would probably leak through and stain her fingers all day. She was always mocked at work for her bad breath and she was sure that it was that bitch Lyndsy that left a bloodied steak in her top draw a few months ago. She never reported it though, just took the steak outside and buried it in the flower bed. She could hear their laughs through the office windows and the blood stains never did come out of the desk drawer properly. ‘Murderers’ she mumbled. She didn’t want to make a scene on the train though, so she sat there, taking small sharp breaths and nervously looking round to make sure no one else could smell the egg. She closed her eyes and meditated about being a mother hen and the warmth from her ass through the seat made the egg reincarnate into a Godzilla sized cockerel that destroyed all the meat eating bastards at her office. She may be vegan but she saw human race as slime that should be wiped out by the things they had imprisoned and tortured. Apart from her mum, she may eat meat, but she’s just misguided and will understand one day when the chicken lord would pay her a visit. The conductor broke her trance with the announcement that the train would be delayed for 20 minutes and someone shouted ‘will someone open the fucking window then, someone must have done a shit on the floor!’ from behind her. She shrank further into her seat and tightly closed her eyes and wished she just got the later train with all her other office colleagues instead of actively avoiding them.

 
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Posted by on February 15, 2016 in Uncategorized

 

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