smokejack

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My stories

Poem of the week

Being Five

Being Five When I was five I had no idea That I would be able to remember Being five Anyone over 12 was a giant Mostly friendly ones Anyone as old as my mother
Cherry

Am I still a Virgin

Am I still a Virgin It was a fairground attraction We met that summer evening in June I was 15 you were a year older And much bolder Amongst the noise of the waltzers
Cherry

Tory Fodder

Tory Fodder They sat at the table Drinking the finest claret From the vineyards of bleeding souls The deep red was drunk in abundance And stained their hands
Cherry

Charlton Heston's Gun

Charlton Heston’s Gun Any small town in America Where narrow minds can meet Will witness the tired spectacle Of folks voting with their feet The flag sellers making money

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