Untitled *The below is the #poem I would of read if I'd won at the Litrature festival. Imagine a room where the judges were all 50 somethings who were rather 'supprised' with my previous use of four letter words. Anyway, enjoy. And now it's to you, Those who read the pink sheets. The white sheet broad sheet biased as hell advert sheet. Those who know their smilies Metaphors stanza poetic versed family. That sit and grade me In the dark Reviewing my work without knowing the allegory. 'Bout to lambast another with a good or bad label, Does he win does he loose Can he buckle or follow suit. I'll tell you, I'll tell you. When I get out tonight win or not #life won't change... I'll still despise David, whether he did get a lardon down at the farm, still think all humans deserve a hand and not base it on merit or charm, and at the top of the list......think labelings to blame. Black white, purple green, one flag to another, I'm so damn tired hearing people shoehorn themselves into a group...be a fucking shepard and not part of the flock. You can sit there, tut and let opulent lips make sounds that only a dog should be able to hear....about how this isn't Byron, Plath or Yeates. How can I relate to fields of golden husk clambering to a yellow monolith when all I see is colour extending the gap....no wonder we reside in grey days. Ive been around this block so many times my callouses weep lies, I've despised cried obliged...now sigh. Sitting there eyes closed head down...deep in thought, about a 12 lined 16th century Peruvian #haiku about Gladys's shit day 40 years ago...my unforeseen impromptu tinnitus strikes again. I'm tired of this Groundhog Day poetic roundabout where I'm waiting for someone...with sponge ears to soak up the drivel, a gramophone mind to keep the record at play and a fog horn vocal passage to regurgitate the braided hairball of modern #life, to its cold wet conclusion and watch it slide down the side of your face. So I'll stand and be scrutinised...skin tougher than an intelligent conversation with a Sun columnist. I'm not anonymous...masked. I'm not left...because I know I'm right. I'm one of the many but of the few who's vocal strings aren't pulled by the puppeteers grasp. Things need to change.

Shitcot A stench that's eroded my nostrils Special K Only fools and horses. The station holds no power since the smoking ban. "Do you know my brother"?! "Didcot Parkway this is Didcot Parkway, can we help find this child his brother"? Put it over the tannoy, You're lost before passing the ticket barrier. Trollies taking leisurely dips in the lakes or a stroll but forgetting to return Unlike me, I chose not to. Yellow bricks crazy paving their way towards heartless, mindless inhabitants full of Stella filled courage. We ain't near Texaco no more Dorothy. Technology college that doubles as a colosseum and a Girls school that doubles as a zoo for the prior, You'd need to be higher than a cooling tower... To not get out of here.

Donna I stag..gered....*Hic* "U WOT MATE"!!!! Fucking bellend, From the boozer... Right larey cruiser you can bet on it "LAD"...broke. Almost yanked the fucking door from the frame... Saw her again. On the pole, Sweating under light, I stand there... Ogling In pure fucking delight. Other blokes tongues like wolves in a cartoon... Lapping her scent up, Perverts... I just wanna see her juices

Untitled "Do you like #poems"? "I rather like a #haiku". "Sorry don't have those".

Of Course Im Angry Of course I'm angry. I'm hunched over a glowing screen incessantly oppressingly punching way below my worth bracket just so I can keep paying rent on a place that's growing more culture than shitting Blackpool to prop the property ladder up nicely for someone else instead of me getting on it. Of course I'm angry. Throttled by the hand that feeds me prime consumerist corn to fatten me ready for the feast. I can average monthly repay my arse from here to the bank time in and time out just to go into the red when the red is just a snowballing scheme continued by a blue Eton wanker like a fiscal document lost on the train tracks of society. Of course I'm angry. I've got a glowing Apple made by corporate slaves that doubles as a 'social' megaphone clasped hard in my hand telling me that all of my friends have read my hilarious post about that fucking thing that everyone loves but I'm so bloody obtuse I'm coming off at angle but no one has commented and now I feel dead inside as everyone can see no fucker finds me funny. Of course I'm angry. I'm told my skin should be the hue of shat out tizer, that my chest should double up as speed bumps and that if I want some doe eyed 50% made in China Barbie doll with an IQ lower than her knickers who'd need a manual for breathing sat on my incredibly steroid worn penis I need to also be the Sultan of Brunei and Jim Carey. Of course I'm angry. I'm told everything that I eat do or say will kill me but I'm also told that on this Orwellian island we call home I'm being watched 24/7 by a public service who cares and will serve and protect, so are they watching me grey and decay for fun? Winding us up with baton shaped keys then watching us bleat off in cuffs back to the flock. Of course I'm angry. When a Conservatoff with a dick that stinks of Frazzles wants to fuck over more low income single mothers than a search bar on Porn Hub, when a book about a made up sentient hipster which describes an act where penguins would of walked from the Arctic to a desert to jump on some weirdos wooden boat is followed more than individual compassion and thought, when companies people are happy to use disregard the law and don't pay taxes that could better our future but you get a comfy fucking cell for inhaling a plant, when copulation is grounds to be idolised and given a pay check bigger than their egos, when the pigment of skin denotes your worth in this world... Of course I'm fucking angry Why aren't you?