Pretty Petty Pity – Poetry

Winning was never important to me

it’s the taking part that’s key,

but when I met you that all changed

playing scrabble makes you deranged.

You begin to sweat

I begin to fret

and when you lose we fall out,

you huff and puff and sometimes shout!

And even when it’s not a game,

you look at me like I’m to blame

when you are not at your best

even when its not a test.

It’s a good thing you are pretty

and I’m not petty

cause I let you win out of pity.

Hayley and I in hats
Hayley and I in hats

 

In The Gay Bar – Poetry

I don't wanna be horrible

But I said and she said

And do you know what I said

And no one said

And nothing was said horribly about

I'm an 8 out of 10 if you ask me

And you know it's not that bad

It's so off colour it's not even real

I'm sorry I did that

And why are you texting me about tonight

Look at your eyes

I….fuck

 

This is a found poem made up of snippets of different conversations I heard in The Kings on Saturday night. I found them quite entrancing. These photos bellow are what was written on the toilet door I was looking at as I listened to the people around me. I thought they opitomised the tone of the conversations.

 

You

You

Before I saw You the music shook me. It fell over my body shattering my bones as I drowned my brains in toxins. Poisons for which I paid a price. The floor glued me in place, held, captured by fallen joy and last night dreams of the night. But seeing You slowed it down. Made the music soothe me and made my feet become as air. Able to float away but I allowed myself to he held in this world. Embraced with Your eyes. Time seemed to slow; seconds stretched to eons and seasons flew. And you my private treasure moved. Hair spilled around You. Lost in a tornado of your own making. A tornado of blood which swirled around You. Drawing everyone to You.

I made my way towards You. I could hear You calling, beckoning me to be by Your side. To touch You, to feel You, to put my fingers in You. I am almost there my love. To hear your sweet voice for the first. To touch the fire that surrounds You and let myself burn.

He touches You. Holds You from behind, and breathes in the smog and ash. You smile, teeth invite him and lips allow him. It’s he You will welcome into You tonight. He who will touch You and make You roar with pleasure.

All I had with You was the time when the music slowed and I watched You, My Girl who stopped time.