10 June 2010

If wishes were horses then beggars might ride



I'm so deprived of inspiration I wrote the corniest love poem ever concocted by a human brain. I shall not bore you with it. Instead here's an older poem I wrote months ago. I know it's not the rules, but hopefully I'll come up with something better before Sunday.

Leave the streets empty for me

I sold you books for a beer

Your paintings for peanuts

And bartered your love for a fix


Too easy my fingers

That sweated the handshake

Relaxed on the touch of a kiss


Understand that these lines are a shambles

These fingers too stiff for the words

My head devastated and plastered

With memories too hard to drink short.


I won’t be here this time tomorrow

You’ll find this in mind numbing dawn

I’m sorry my love, sorry, I’m sorry

Three’s not even close to the charm

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Joy