Writing – Tiny Tufts

Tiny Tufts

 

There’s more to life than small things

there’s the big stuff too

I know it’s there

but it’s the little things that worry me

like tiny tufts of odd grey hair

in places where it shouldn’t be

my eyeballs and my teeth

I’m sure it’s not natural

to have follicles beneath

the places even I can’t see

not matter how hard I may try

to reach them with my toothbrush

it always hurts my eyes

it’s a crying shame

when you have to shave

your molars every day

but these annoying rituals

keep most of it at bay

I hate the taste of Imac

and waxing makes me blind

if these small hairs keep growing back

I’m sure to lose my mind.

Writing – I Like You

I LIke You

 

I like you when you smile at me

I like you when you make my tea

I like you when you touch me there

I like you in that underwear

I like you when you tell a joke

I like you because you don’t smoke

I like you when you’re drunk and frisky

I like you cos your tastes are risky

I like you you’ve got sturdy thighs

I like you you’re the perfect size

I like you because you never tire

I like you because you don’t perspire

I like you as you me make me happy

I like you except that time you slapped me

I like you when you’re not menstruating

I like you I think you’re fascinating

I like you when you karaoke

I like you when you’re wet and soapy

I like you and how you wear your hair

I like you because you say you care

I like you cos you’re something special

I like you when we have a wrestle

I like you when you let me win

I like you and your cheeky grin

I like you because you keep it real

I like you and the way you feel

I like you more with every kiss

I like you but won’t drink your piss

Writing – How the Dinosaurs Became Extinct

How the Dinosaurs Became Extinct

 

It was a while before the dinosaurs realised that they were doomed but then Clevasaurus built an ark to take them to the moon.

Once on the moon the lizards reigned till late that afternoon they’d nothing to eat but cheese up there and not much running room.

The Tyrannosaurus had a plan so they’d all have space to move and the fiercest and the bigger ones made the small ones into stew.

So eventually the crowd thinned out by survival of the fittest and the only two left on the moon were the Tyrannosaurus sisters.

To procreate it usually helps if gene pools are not linked plus genders should be opposite so they soon became extinct.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Writing – A Case of Writers Block

A Case of Writer’s Block

He covered his eyes from the vacuous stare of the screen. How long would this emptiness last? Sitting static for an age and a bit he’d scanned for thoughts in the air above his head. Invisible butterflies that could be trapped, pinned down and displayed forever. He knew they were there, dancing silently out of reach to evade his grasp. The keyboard offered no inspiration; it just remained inert, quiet and indifferent. For all the words in the world it was of no use whatsoever. Uncovering his face the monitor’s blazing glower struck him, constricting his pupils to full stops. He began to type. He was without purpose or plan but anything was better than this mass of nothing. It was like being trapped inside a ping-pong ball, blank white space wherever he looked. He would fill the page with something. Anything. He stopped and read back what he had just written.

Writing – Fools

Fools

Fools, he thought setting about to do his morning exercise. Messy and ignorant fools the lot of them. He watched with disdain. Muscles flexing he felt the burn. Daily commuters scuttled past. Dropping their half-eaten breakfasts as they rushed to their duties. On his street. Outside his window. These people have no respect. Leave the mess for someone else to clean up why don’t you? You’re all too busy. Must get on and push those buttons and serve your ‘clients’ with the psuedo-smiles that you all wear to work. These mad, bovine serfs. Day after day. Year after year. Life after life. He almost pitied them. But he couldn’t worry about the world and all it’s ills. He swung his right arm in the air clockwise. Cardiovascular constitutional. His eyes fixed on a hefty woman disposing half a sausage-roll into her mouth and the other half onto his lawn while spitting pastry at her mobile phone. If he wasn’t this far into his routine he would go out there and tell her to move her oversized frame and pick that processed muck up and put it in a bin like any normal clean living person should. He’d done it before and they always had that same puzzled look on their faces, almost surprise. He supposed that they’d never been told how filthy they truly were. They wallow in their own dirt as a way of life. He suspected they’d grown accustomed to it. He’d told the council to put a bin by his garden wall but they never did. A person can only write so many letters though. In the end it’s becomes a chore, and who wants to end up grinding their days away for no good reason? He took a deep breath and looked at his arm. The veins pushed up against his pale skin. He felt the blood pumping. His heart pounded. Did they ever feel like this he wondered? He imagined they just felt hollow and numb from life. Another twinge of pity? He was getting soft in his old age. If it wasn’t for his lifestyle then maybe he would feel the same as them. He was thankful he chose to live the way he did, master of his own destiny. Sitting down he picked up his syringe and dug the needle deep into a bulging vein. He eased down on the plunger and the heroin flushed through his bloodstream and across his brain within seconds. Lying back on his urine stained mattress he didn’t care about any of the mess outside anymore. Closed eyes and the mould covered walls melted from view. His crusted nostrils hoovered up the vomit licked air and snorted it back out again with added mucous that dribbled over his greasy moustache settling upon his spot covered lips. He was oblivious.