(written 9 April 2010)
Do you also see the "1 Trick Fight Cravings" advert on the right on fb? Does it also look to you, as you catch it out of the corner of your eye, like porn? I wonder if they did it on purpose?
Anyhow, it is time once again for a poem - today is not the day for prattle or news, although Sam & Gareth did see Hiro Nakamura at uShaka last weekend, and wow there's the whole bit about the Hindu wedding which I have in - my - um... pocket - somewhere...
But for today it's back to basics: Yup, you guessed it: Poems about hangovers written in 10 minutes as I drove my coffee-craving of a body down to work.
--------------------------------------------------
What will save me from this hell?
This llama-mouth, this minotaur
wandering my brain with wounded knee?
This long-dead cat of consequence
this punching bag, hung up to die
badly stuffed and beaten by a
thick-eyed man without a wife who
still lives with his mother.
This unsocked foot of bedouin
whose camel died 2 days ago
- this nutsack of a dog.
"It weren't the aliens this time", he muttered to his cup.
"It weren't aliens this time, ah no, it was the booze."
----------------------------------------------------
Tongue-twister: My 7 sequined squirrels lay into your lame-ass llama,
Tom
No comments:
Post a Comment