THE PIE SHOP. Chapter Six. Benny's Love Story
We all have a talent of some sort it seems.
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Montgomery, Montgomery
Montgomery, Montgomery The greatest cad in history A weasel sly and Slippery In expensive cotton frippery His smile so slick and buttery Makes the ladies tummies fluttery
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Epitaph
The will is white and tells us lies, and wills us to believe. Beneath a fetid mound of turned soil; should you come to mourn my passing, this is where you’ll find me.
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- 1003 reads
I want to be one of those poets
I want to be one of those poets Morose poets Whose misanthropic throes of agony towards their unaccepting society result in late night recitals with raunchy underworld types
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Fussball girl
Every Saturday afternoon She invades the gastro pub downtown Where the fussball table waits Beneath the barbaric roars of cocky men. Here, she dishes out humiliation in sachets
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I will It
This is the match with which I strike the moistened box along one side. The damp ash, tinder, faggot, brush: All are waiting in the grate. I cup the matchbox in my left hand;
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- 636 reads