I’m fairly new to writing, starting in 2018, and up until now I’m unpublished .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.
I’ll have an E please Bob
Alive and crackling awaiting that weekend train to euphoria The 5 ticks marked for meagre credits punched electronically Into a withering chasm of make and take A jilted and wilted horde destroyed before their time Spewing their bile on a sticky floor among their wide eyes sweat dripping brethren Riding a bass filled wave to a crescendo of pumping muscles and strained sinews Catatonic eyes follow dancing lights drawing their own shapes Shrills Pierce the pounding bins as chaotic formations merge like a crashing sea The weary throng on the outsides catching breath and showering heads Then back into the fold of entangled souls The night will play many parts shape lives destroy livers minds and spines But it was the closest you got to God without dying
I’ll play you for grand
Green baize burns with UC rage as white follows black into supernova Powdered mountains hoovered and consumed into wide eyed angst Fools pitied as pine splinters flesh and bone to roars and dance of the baying monsoon Sheffield electro bounces off tobacco walls wailing and unyielding like being boiled Blood splatters the Queen as kirk smiles in a periwinkle blue suited portrait giants crunch fried bones dripping greased menace from ivory towers Working class Sunday theatre presents reality in technicolour scratch and sniff In sticky breakfast club coliseums As lions stare defeat hung drawn and quartered Violently stuffed down Christian throats In glorious juxtapose
Cold was her stare, but her pale skin burned like white phosphate on the back of a Palestinian child Her copper frame draws him in to her spiked embrace, her sharp aqua eyes sweet like her smooth cunt a honey dipped rose that blossoms as its tended by pink fingers Till the thick dirt under the nails clogs the heart and poisons her mind She purges it out like acrid lucozade on to pristine Laura Ashley sheets Mascara and lipstick swirled around like a shit Jackson pollock a piece long lost to alcoholic procrastination Then crumpled and discarded, buried under empty waitrose wine boxes and a carrier bag of dog shit The curse of being happy once and the pain of destroying it through vanity A spell to remain unbroken till dirty seed is emptied on a barron patch of scorched earth Till then.. she beats a hasty retreat to the arms of tomorrow's demons