Collage

Ripping up magazines

Clothes that do not suit me

Faces that are not like mine

A life I cannot decipher

Am I supposed to aspire?

But I cut out the torso

Maybe, I dunno,

It would be easier

To live like this

But something's amiss?

Glue sticks affix

The body to the page

I write my rage

Alongside style notes

Catseyes, catsuit, cool toned lipgloss ✓

Rollercoaster

We put it down
to first time nerves.
Is a frown
not a clue?
Although exciting I need
to have trust in you.

Recipe

This is how I

Make a mojito

It is sweet

So watch how you go

Start with a glass

Long and tall

And get a jug

So it's easier to pour

Fill it with mint 

A handful is fine

A teaspoon of sugar and

The juice of a lime

I add the soda water now

But some do it last

Whatever your preference

Pour into the glass

Ideally over ice

Add 2 ounces of rum

No I don't garnish

I just down it in one

Be

I just hit the keys

To see what appears

Sometimes it is OK

Mostly it's queer

Think of word

Write it down

Think of another

With a similar sound

Or a funny pun

A hidden meaning

If that fails

Try whatever you are feeling

It has no rules

This anarchist prose

I just follow

Wherever it goes

No Pen

Striking twilight

I sit in front

Of a bright screen

And write

Eyes watering

I cannot switch off

Like that time at the supermarket

After I left hospital

Constant chattering

In my head and my teeth

The cola was too cold

So I cry

There is no follow-up plan

In the aisles I mutter

I cannot switch off

Dawn and taxis arrive

I fold into the seat

And shriek

Shut up!

Sixteen hundred

At sixteen hundred hours

The moon puts on their coat

Sits by the front door

And waits for the evening call

Looking out their window

They scoff

At the sun, lolling about

Like a dumb beach ball

London in summer

A summer evening in London is stunning

Hot, happy faces spill onto the sidewalk

I mourn what I am becoming

Strangers pass me, footsteps thrumming

Slight nods before I need to talk

A summer evening in London is stunning

A decade earlier I came running

The memory makes me baulk

I mourn what I am becoming

Sleazy nights succumbing

Circling like a hawk

A summer evening in London is stunning

Before I know it I am gunning

For folks with a fork

I mourn what I am becoming

I perceive the combat oncoming

Passersby gawk

A summer evening in London is stunning

I mourn what I am becoming