Murderer

I killed them all.
Every last one.
Dead.
A short, twitching affair.
Ghostly pale
I watched them die,
Too numerous to count.

Am I a monster?

A whole colony
Wiped out.

A nippon death
Delivered by
A woman in a mask with
A shaking hand.

But they shouldn't
Have swarmed.
Not in my kitchen.
Not on my walls.

Am I a monster?

No.

I just really, really don't like ants
IN MY HOUSE!!!!

I'll take my guilt
And bury it.

Like the ants......

Dennis

Really Dennis

Don't play tennis,

You're a menace

With a racquet;

When the umpire

Says 'it's out'

It doesn't matter

If you whack it.

Don't loose your 

Temper, 

And stop swearing,

They don't like

It on the green;

Keep your

Pants on Dennis

Really,

You're becoming 

Quite obscene.

So perhaps

You need to find 

A game

That's easier to play,

Dennis really,

Don't play tennis

Put

That baseball bat

Away!!

A Quiet Life

A lifetime of quiet resentments

Paved the way

To red mist driven,

Steely sharp

Slashing, slashing madness.

If only she had told someone.

If only she had let it out.

If only he had let her breathe,

Let her believe; believed in her

Just a tiny, tiny bit.

But his overbearing arrogance

Made him a wife full of tiny holes,

Filled full of ire, 

A raging soul 

Behind her perfect, placid smile.

She waits for them

To come and take her away, 

Quiet and red.

The woman that never fought back,

Never murmered, 

All in persuit of a quiet life.

AMOP updated

A  Matter of Perspective has been updated

Fruity

She had the skin of a raisin,
And the body
Of a peardrop.

She should have given them back.

Business Show

There's got to be a better way 

Of earning cash than this!

A three hour drive, at half past five

Is just taking the piss.

Now here we are, we've manned our stand,

Well womaned actually,

And nailed our perfect smiles on

'Cause we're here 'til half past three.

Oh there's got to be a better way 

Of getting through the day,

Outside the sun is shining

And my life's slipping away.

If another bleedin' sales man

Stops and asks us what we do

They'll be picking up their teeth

And I'll be swearing in the loo!'

There's got to be a better way 

Of bringing in the bread,

Another year of doing this....

I wish that I was dead!

When will that winning ticket

Find it's way into my grasp?

A million quid would do it,

My escape, at last, AT LAST!!

Sometimes

Just sometimes,
I wish I were something other than I am.
I wish,
That just sometimes,
I were, a great big, hulking man.
I wish,
That just sometimes,
I could show the world my strength.
Instead of keeping quiet,
Like a good girl.

Like a good girl.

I wish
That just sometimes
I could.....

Our Best Friend

Too hot to move he lies upon the once cool stone.
Hot indeed,
But preferable to baking slabs around him.

'Poor dog,' he thought, 'poor dog,
I can't remove my coat like you
To stop the scorching of my skin.
Instead I lie, baking in this brilliant furnace.'

'I see you laughing in the shade,
Cool drinks clutched in your careless hands.
You will not feel the heat of burning ears lying in the sun.'

'Poor dog,' he thought, 'poor dog;
Why do you never think of me,
whilst pandering to your own needs?'

And then the flies began to buzz
And landed on his heated back,
And dog, poor dog, he couldn't see
The things that made this cruel attack.

'Enough,' he thought, this poor dumb thing
Whilst staring out through betrayed eyes,
And pulling on the iron chain
He strained and tugged and yelped and cried.

'Go see the dog' the woman said,
To children playing on the grass.
So eagerly he greeted them,
That set the poor thing free at last.

And none thought of the hurt they'd caused
Or saw the sorrow in his eyes,
In loving them he gave his life
For all their cruelty and their lies.

So why poor dog were you this way,
Left chained up on a summers day?

Egbert Wipe

This poem was written for Martin. It's happy, and it's about pies, as requested.

Hope you like it!

Egbert Wipe he stole a bike

Whilst dressed up like a nun,

This all night party monster

Was stuffed full of stealing fun.

He'd had a drink, or two or three,

In fact; that's just a lie,

He'd had much nearer twenty

And now rode in search of pies.

Oh! Pies with shortcrust pastry

And with tasty fillings too,

A pie and then another pie,

And then a massive brew.

He wobbled to the market

Where he found the bakers stand,

But was hampered by his wimple

As he ran off, pies in hand.

Then his balance just deserted him,

And on his face he fell,

Pies abandoned on the tarmac.

But there's one thing more to tell.

Poor old Egbert was arrested

For his theft of tasty pies,

And the caption in the paper

Made much fun of his disguise.

So the moral of this story

Is 'don't drink before you ride',

And if you're wearing fancy dress

Then stay away from pies!

Glint

Misused, confused,

My trust abused,

Your burning hands 

Were not refused

My life forsook,

Your touch, your look

My reputation 

Cost enough.

But how you lied

I'm cast aside

My dreams, destroyed

I see your pride

That devil quick, to spite, to fly,

The glint, that evil, 

In your eye.

Kindle

I'm going to go on Kindle,

I've got the 'How to' guide,

I've even got some words to sell,

My tongue has been untied.

I'm really quite excited,

My first e-published book

But to follow those instructions,

I'll need more than bloomin' luck!

The Doctor

Today's contribution is from a man who plays the bass guitar.

Oh I like smoking cannabis,

I like smoking pot,

I like smoking weed I do,

I like it quite a lot.

Catchy little rhyme!

AMOP updated

A Matter of Perspective has been updated.

What am I doing

With all this?
What an ego.
Will I cease to exist
Without my words?
Without the reflection
Of myself I hold safe
In the thought
That you care.

Look at me,
Don't look at me.
Better that I go
Look for myself.

I hope it doesn't take too long.

Music

What a time!

When it takes you by the heart,

And drags from your soul

Such screaming delight,

Such a joy at being alive,

Up and out through the notes,

Through the smile that is your face,

That your mind can hardly hold it.

What a time,

When the music owns you,

And you are

Glad, 

Glad, 

Glad.

Dying for a change

Oh, change me, change me,

Red, 

Not grey,

And make the years fall away!

Yes, 

Take me to a younger place,

Now

What to do about my face?

A day at the Races

Hot dusty happy day,

Come to watch the horses play.

Dance and drink here whilst you stay,

Carry victory notes away!

Birthday Flowers

Birthday flowers

Lovely!

Happy Hour

She spied him across the crowded bar
And speared him with a shrill peroxide wail.
'Tonyyy!! Daarrrrling!! It's been ages, why didn't you call!?'

'I did,' he lied, 'But you were never in.'

She nodded wisely.
'Well I'm a busy girl you know!'
And waggled hips that knew the move.

He swallowed.
She advanced, shark eyed, lips poised.

Elbow in the ribs.
'Chris, mate, drink up, we're leaving'
A shrug, a smile, an escape.
She pouted as he passed, talons raised to grasp.

Outside he breathed again.
Drink can make you do terrible things.

And they never remembered your name.