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Poems 1


thirty nine and holding ...
skin and ego folding;
( future legend moulding )
  'as is my career' ?


thirty nine and floating
( aimlessly? ) and noting
nothing's gained by voting
  every day a year


thirty nine and fighting
paranoias biting;
looking for my lighting ...
  have another beer


thirty nine, pupating;
( others, relocating,
  couldn't take the waiting )
  thirty nine .. still here.


I'm ( fe ) male, earthy, gay and straight,
I pub, I club, I sing
I'm tall to small, I'm slim and cuddly;
every gorgeous thing.


I'm black and white, free day and night,
No kids, no smoke, no ex
I'm witty, pretty, single, solvent;
Seeking love and sex


My sense of humour's permanent,
I know I'm right for you ...
I'm lonely-hearted-call-me-voice-
link-one-five-seven-two.


As I was sitting by my side

I passed me on the way.

"Yon fellows come and join us, Sir!"

I first, then he, did say.

"In sooth Sirs, that we cannot",

I in harmony did claim,

"We're takin' us to court to sue for both our honoured name".

"For why?", said I,

"Because", quoth both,

"The other hour whilst shaving,

we nicked ourself and were too late

thy bloody drops in saving.

And then, Sirs, there in common light

't'was villainously cried;

I called meselves an idiot ...

us Men, Sirs, have our pride!".


the lifestyle of the Three-Toed Sloth
is one I feel would suit us both
it sits in trees and doesn't speak
and takes a plop just once a week

it never ever has been known
to grow demented for a bone
or slaver, bark, and sit and beg
or try to hump the Vicar's leg

it doesn't pussyfoot around
imperiously claim the ground
curl up upon your warmest spots
pretending that it likes you lots

it doesn't burble in a bowl
or sit all sneaky down a hole
or flap its armpits through the air
to colonise a human hair

no, none of this we apprehend
of our beatific faced friend
who only wants to sleep and eat
and count the digits on his feet

and is this really such a waste?
as life is pointless so is haste
so let me once again attest
the Three-Toed Sloth does nothing best

ah joy and bliss to be that lad
who path and purpose hasn't had
to sit in trees and never speak
and take a plop just once a week!

MORE OF MY POEMS ...

I Hate It When  ..    Theology: Salvation's Pimp .. 
        p23                                  p24

Could Life's Sole Office
    She Killed Me Then
        p25                                  p26

Home Page  |  My CV  |  Acting For Fun  |  Personal Tuition 
My Social Invention
  |  Me on Film & TV  |  Me On Coronation St.  | 
Photos Of Me On Stage & TV
  |  Me As A Live Presenter  |  My Writings ( p14 - 21 ) ...

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