New Poetry
Here is some new poetry. Enjoy :)
Dinosaurs
I love how if you play your cards right,
When you touch the subway handrails,
you can catch 50 types of syphilis
left over from Saturday night.
I love Word! and the Y
And Sureshot and Lydia.
I miss Bambu and I wonder why we ever said goodbye
To cushions on the floor and touching knees.
We've got geeks and freaks
And a man like an Elephant
and another who's just...really fat.
You can get any food you want in any language you want.
Portuguese, Indian, Chinese, Italian,
Lebonese, Greek, Cornish, Japanese,
even the best pork pies around if you fancy it.
I love the smells of Melton Road
And how the ponies next to the A47
Never seem to get run over or hurt,
but we're afraid to walk through Braunstone alone at night.
We have the new Highcross,
with six new shops I can't afford to shop in.
And all the old shops moved to the new bit,
So now the old bit's kinda shit.
But it's ours.
Sometimes we're rough and
sometimes we tumble.
sometimes we snap
and sometimes we grumble,
but we've got theatres and parks
and poems that rhyme
So what if we can't be cheerful all the time?
We have FUCKING DINOSAURS!
And ghosts
And a building that's blue
And tons of things to do
For me and for you
So stand up and be loud,
Speak up and be proud.
And love Leicester as much as I do!
Peach Pie Thighs
I am afraid of my own body
and my subconscious doesn’t like me.
She writes poetry better than anything
I’ve ever heard and
taunts me with it,
with stages,
with audiences with ticker-tape eyes.
When I wake I only save a sliver,
a word or a line,
that I hate because
they never feel like mine
The truth is:
I want to write poetry
with adjectives that don’t fit.
I want to stop feeling like shit,
just for a minute,
stop coming up with mediocre rhymes
and have the time
to live my life
rather than just survive
and write mediocre dream-poetry
about it.
Lion
You are the saddest thing I've ever seen
but you do not roar
because your ears suck in notes
that scream in rhythm.
I run my fingers through
your mane
Scratch the skin
and if purring weren't a sin,
you would.
But drunk on pain,
you put on your scary face
and even when you laugh
it's like lightning.
We stare at each other
with cliche eyes and
Lion, you make me want to cry.
You whimper like a cub
so I hold you like a baby,
rest your head on your paws
and sing lullabies.
This is not love
I am not your lover
I am just a human being,
who knows what it is to be lonely.
This is all you get.
Because I will wake from a dream
where I kissed a lion
and he told me I had pretty lips
kissed me, once more and
Goodnight
Cynthia Buell Thomas
Wed 18th Aug 2010 12:52
Love these, Ms Millar. It's great to read a tight fast zingy new voice! It would be easier to comment if these three were blogged separately. I will get back to your previous post later; I'm pressed for time.