Poetry

Every day

This entry was posted in Desire Poetry and tagged Beauty falling in love poetry slave to desire on by

Every day - low res

Every day

Every room I have ever walked into

My whole life long

I have fallen in love

 

Every bar, every restaurant

Just switching on the TV, watching a movie

Walking to the corner shop, everywhere

 

I did it at the copywriting conference

Last Friday in London

Three times in the same day

There were so many

Good looking women in the room

I could have fallen in love

A dozen times over

 

It happened to me again today

In the McDonald’s across the road

I popped in for lunch

There was a girl in there

Whose beauty was off the scale

An affront to the laws of physics

That not even Einstein could explain

 

The kind of beauty

That sends men insane

And makes Big Macs taste like cardboard

 

I won’t waste time

Trying to describe her

Words would be inadequate

Not even a photo could do her justice

Such beauty can only be experienced

 

It goes without saying

She was out of my league

Out of my age range

Unless I’d been rich and famous

Which I’m not

 

What a hell of a trick

Nature plays on us

Instilling these feelings

These wants and desires

Which can never be fulfilled

 

Five years from now

She’ll probably be in some porn movie

Or wrapped around a lap dancer’s pole

Torturing a whole generation

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Bad day at the office 3

This entry was posted in Bad day at the office Poetry and tagged 9-5 Bully bullying corporate culture work on by

5.30pm

 

Here’s a little poem I wrote about the office where I work, at UK Cash Cowboys. From what I hear, a lot of people feel this way about their jobs. It’s a sad indictment of the things we need to do, just to stay clinging to the surface of this planet for a few decades, in the world capitalism has built for us. What a lousy fist humans have made of life. We think we’re the smartest species but sometimes I think a bug would have a happier existence than most of us. How dumb is that? It’s just a short poem. Nothing really. A doodle. It’s called 5.30pm.

 

5.30pm

 

I do a little fist pump inside

Another day chalked off

On the cell wall

Wishing my life away

Longing for the day I retire

So I don’t have to work

In shitholes like this

Each day feels like a prison sentence

Weekends I get out on parole

Then Mondays banged up again

 

There’s some good people

Mostly the other cons I work with

But the warders

Who run this joint

Arrogant, high-handed bunch

Of corporate tossers

You wouldn’t piss on them

If they were on fire

 

Welcome

To UK Cash Cowboys plc

 

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Forbidden Fruits

This entry was posted in Desire Poetry and tagged Beauty desire mid-life crisis poetry on by

Poem I wrote one lunchtime last week, hopefully self-explanatory.

Forbidden Fruits

Today as I was walking through the city

I was struck by the total hotness

Of the young girls walking up and down

In their late teens, early twenties

The time nature brings it all together

Into a moment of fleeting perfection

Like flowers bursting from buds

So beautiful you almost want to weep

 

I am old enough to be their father

Maybe even grandfather, shock horror

Does that mean I should feel guilty

About finding them beautiful?

They seemed to me as lovely and life-affirming

As Mendelssohn’s Octet

The first time ever I heard it

Though my hearing has since dimmed

My appreciation of Mendelssohn hasn’t

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