Market

A piggy went to market,
is how it goes.
The smell of fresh meat,
whistles around
when the wind blows.

A childhood treat,
family day-trip out.
Happy to wonder around,
the endless aisles,
walking for miles.

Butcher barters with onlookers,
‘two for a fiver’.
Last joint of British beef
is sold,
you won’t get it cheaper.

Try to avoid eye contact,
at claustrophobic clothes stalls.
‘I’m just looking’,
as he negotiates a price
for goods I don’t want at all.

No security checks,
before transactions are paid.
CCTV in seller’s eyes,
trusting people of good heart
will respect their trade.

How times have shrunk,
the rivers that flowed through
are now trickling streams
of punters
more careful with their dough.

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Love

Love is free.
A gift.
Endless in quantity.
Re-usable.
Re-mouldable.
Soft and hard.
Quiet and loud.

You make the rules,
can’t help who you love.
Prejudice is natural,
can’t expect to be loved.

Love sings to me,
teases me.
Everyday.
You have to earn it,
have I earned it?

In My Bedroom

You torment my soul.
MSN isn’t flashing
Texts aren’t beeping.

*BEEP*

The caster chair I dwell in
roars across lamenate flooring.

‘1 New Message’
‘View’
‘Orange currently has great new offers on new mobile phones…’

Wasn’t bothered at first
kissing your nose
I didn’t realise
what I had.
Your hand in mine,
a smooth hand slips inside the rear of my faded jeans.
Contented.

This was the beginning.

Out of my window,
the bus stop you could have stood at,
the garden we could have played in.
Empty and lonely;
under-used.

I can’t wash you off my skin.
Tell me songs to start moving again.
When dreams are that close
it’s difficult to let go.
Hope you met your match.

This was the end.

Possibly

We’d live in the sky, probably.

I’d probably be happy.
I’d probably be rich.
I’d probably be famous.

I’d probably have a girlfriend.
I’d probably be married.
I’d probably have had sex.
I’d probably have children.

I’d probably be able to drive.
I’d probably have a car.
I’d probably be able to cook.
I’d probably be able to eat.
I’d probably be able to drink.

I’d probably have my own place.
I’d probably have my own time.
I’d probably speak for myself.
I’d probably not need help.

I would not exist, definately.

End of a Spark

Guess I’ve given up.
Pretending I don’t care
worrying what to wear,
how to do my hair.

Wicker dripping stomach.
Outside my hiding place
disappear without trace,
I know I’m not safe.

Inside I’m hurting.
You know it
but the lines of a poet
can’t save us now.

Don’t know what to say.
Now that I’ve told you
I yearn to be with you,
you don’t feel the same.

A spark burnt out.
Conversation runs dry
now I don’t try,
you ebb away.

Silky dark hair, surrounds her face.
Actions with grace compliment tanned skin.
Not afraid to sin, alive to the world.

She follows the sun,
and takes my soul in her eyes.
Deep blue and oceans of suprise;
They tell me things I’ve never known.

Strong on her own,
no one’s to own.
Can see her glow.
Can see her grow.

My stomache cramps
when I know I won’t have her.
I think I could complete her
but will never know.

Hope she waits for me somewhere.