Ste Bamberough

Profile coming soon…I’m fairly new to writing, starting in 2018, and up until now I’m unpublished . The theme of my work is gritty and often blunt I’m heavily influenced by emotional turmoil, social inequality and political absurdity. I grew up in a small pit village in Durham but currently reside in Merseyside . I’m looking to release a book of poetry in the future and I’m currently working on a novella Profile coming soon…

Its a wonderful life 

What lies beneath the blessed skin
What rises up what dies within
The dark stench of tainted breath
Never sweet in life as it leaves in death

The pickled brain the useless lungs 
The feet stuck on bottom rungs 
The parchment wrote in bitter piss
The lies sold with every kiss

Steal a base on a borrowed throne 
Eat them out like a house and home 
Sertralines pretty drawn on smile 
Make a molehill and steal a mile 

Wipe off the filth on the underside 
Bury the box where the secrets hide 
Mark the spot with a kitchen knife 
Praise the new day it's a wonderful life

I’m not your fucking friend

I'm not your fucking friend,
And nor you mine.
Just two damaged souls, 
towing along on the same line.
Scars worn inwards
And outside just benign.
Generic husks from yesterday's time. 
Traversing heights of good and bad,
We're the worst and best we've had.
Ashtrays full of butts and dreams,
Stolen moments and violent screams.
Dog eared and disingenuous
Weirdness mixed with pretentious,
All things that compliment us.

Muddy waters reflect 
Overflowing to bereft.
A twisted syndrome left unchecked 
Manifests in a Stockholm effect
You watch as I slow,
I watch when you show. 
Wanking in the corner
You're my last and I'm the former. 
We feast on familiar and shit out trauma.

I save your tears,
You bait my fears.
I say thanks, you say cheers.
No milk and honey,
Hard boiled, never runny.
Call me daddy, cum to mummy.
Always dripping from the piss we're ripping.
Never rush as we're always tripping.
Bad karma's always gripping. 

Porcelain under feet,
We make bitter from sweet.
Same songs from different sheets, 
Hidden phones and sordid tweets.
Every day, same streets.
Played over and over,
Just press repeat.

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