Thirst

I am a desperate man,
I am Desperate Dan

I am a fool in love,
I am a jealous bastard

I am a short temper and a blow to the head,
But I am a coward

I am purity,
I am a pervert

I am honesty,
I am truth

I am deceit an illusion of what I am,
I will show no mercy, I will make it bleed.

I am ruthless,
But I still have my youth

As a poet I will drink their tears,
I will swallow their praise
I will devour their entities
I will bask in their unadulterated adoration

Poet In Infancy

I am Byron's arrogance
I am Hughes' brutality
I am Wordsworth's beauty
I am Hardy's humanity
I am Skelton's faith
I am Spenser's reason
I am Duffy's oppression
I am Keats' romance
I am Tennyson's courage
I am Yeats' patriotism
I am Heaney's militancy
And I am Dylan's rhythm

But, for I am just an infant learning to crawl

Berry Rec.

I'll be your doormat, I'll be your rug.
I'll be your dogsbody, I'll be your mug.

I'll be your handyman, your slave of all trades.
I'll be your obedient bitch on mininum wage.

North/South Division

I wish I was born a Northerner,
Bursting out of the womb wearing a cloth cap.
Firmly grasping a pint o' bitter, roll-up in my mouth.

I wish I was born a Northerner,
Down't pit wit' pick axe in my hand,
Work thirty hour days and then collapse exhausted.

I wish I was born a Northerner,
I'd wear my heart on my sleeve,
I'd of been close to the theatre of dreams.
Red and black scarf round my neck.
Hollering as I drew the sonic rapier from its sheath.

I wish I was born a Northerner,
I'd have socialised with the elite,
Drinking from the lyrical fountain of Ryder, Morrissey, Lawrence and Hughes.

I wish I was born a Northerner,
Cos the South is full o' clowns,
Scenesters, shisters, shallow bastards
Cunts that'd sell you out for half an ounce.

A Typical Saturday Night For Jimmy Jenkins

Pour me a pint of you're finest amber, mass-produced piss poison.
A large glass of red and a vintage whiskey
Four long shots, kick de bucket

This establishment is littered with hard livers, with hard livers.
Here even the poets, musicians, authors, and romantics are shrunken to drunken louts.

The dimwit enters with a shark on a lead,
The master is canine. Loyal as fuck, thick as shit
The whore on his arm is over 6ft tall.
Due to the six inch heels that'd crush your balls.

Out in the car park Jimmy J is surrounded by a carnival of wolves.
All wanting to dance and howl in the pale moonlight.
He raises his fists and tries to scare the animals off.
But, these beasts are riot starters, twisted riot starters.
Slapped by a Grizzly! Sacked by a Weasel!

As JJ arrives home battered black and blue,
He takes out a magic marker and goes dot-to-dot from cigarette burn, to cigarette burn.
He falls into a deep slumber.

All in the spirit of a typical Saturday night for Jimmy Jenkins

2 Bottles of Red and a Leather Couch (Feat K. Norman)

Sipping Red and sitting on leather,
Carnal thoughts that can't be tethered.
All I need is a piano,
Behind these keys is a lust that will always be desired.

Through deserts and woods hope will be acquired,
Though in this moment passion can not be denied.

But, wading through the thick fog passion did lie

The Plight of the Jobseeker

Stuck in a queue anticipating judgement.
Waiting in the cold for a tuppence payout.
Dreams were doomed in such a short time.
The loaf is thinly sliced on this non-breadline.

The plight of the jobseeker