November 2012 (5)
IT’S ME, YOUR BUTCHER
we made eye contact
a quick pull
like when the wind beats an umbrella
till its insides hang out
my promise to be contrary
ended fixing up on a new victim
shit faced at the wheel
noticing you in that moment
sound of your voice
on a tape recorder
wounds faces and nights to come
what a child you have been
wriggling
whereas I went on tearing rags to shreds
shaking in a ripped blouse
cute sassy thing passed out
a half – credible story
hurried stripping you down
one less one
a sip of bad milk between the legs
then started to fumble
it didn’t last long
inches of skin
made crime bruise – ingly visible
still knew what to say at newsagents
phoned helpline only in order to hear my voice
could give you one chance to shoot me
miss, and watch how dig flick knife
into your piece of mind
fury spitting out of eyes
stop me not
melee of media
impossible to blunt a carving set (17th November 2012)
November 2012 (4)
FICTION SLEEVE
in this room stale
with after love
he promised crashing to knees
twisting sheets in tortured zeal
a voice came to her
lips frozen in exclamation
wrestled syllables
when he zipped back into his pants
mindless cad
broke whatever spell was cast
turned it to face a wall
thighs white marzipan
exposed girlish lack of curve
re – read written last chapter
she accepted it noir
by truth unfed and unknown (15th November 2012)
November 2012 (2)
CONVICTED WISEGUYS
they found her abandoned
knew straight away
that head ceased retching
in public lavatories forever
without a qualm
leather car seats will look for
another sweat skin they could cling to
watch arms overhead inviting to rape lines
that laced their way up
to condensed windows
she was naked and swollen
stung with lingering of anguish
piercing resonance
revealed words tattooed on her shoulder
merely toes curling under hem of jeans
held them back from escape (08th November 2012)
November 2012 (1)
EXCEPTION FORBIDDEN
many are called
but few are chosen
behind them door say ‘closed’
it’s been suddenly quiet
in a guilt zone
afraid of losing something
don’t have any more
sugar lump jumps out of cup
into empty shoes
bottoms up
for not getting worse
might as well bugger off out again
to some soirée
but stopped from saying that
in reality sugar lump reached the bottom
right in the middle
below dregs
preaching hell knows how long for
refusing to be most frightfully sorry (07th November 2012)
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