Submissions by Fletch
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
LOVE POEM
Published
17th Nov 2015 12:01pm
17th Nov 2015 12:01pm
JUST ANOTHER DAMNED COUPLE
When we landed in Rome
I was wearing a hangover
Like a brain haemorrhage
And you had a boil on your cheek
That had the hotel desk staring at us
Checking our passports
Checking the dates
Before handing over the key
Pointing to the lift
As far as they were concerned
We were just another damned couple
In a cheap hotel
But up in the room we didn’t feel so bad
In fact we felt blessed and
With the horns blaring outside
We lay on the bed
And made everything feel right
After we were done
I leaned over
Cleaned...
I was wearing a hangover
Like a brain haemorrhage
And you had a boil on your cheek
That had the hotel desk staring at us
Checking our passports
Checking the dates
Before handing over the key
Pointing to the lift
As far as they were concerned
We were just another damned couple
In a cheap hotel
But up in the room we didn’t feel so bad
In fact we felt blessed and
With the horns blaring outside
We lay on the bed
And made everything feel right
After we were done
I leaned over
Cleaned...
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LOVE POEM
Published
17th Nov 2015 12:00pm
17th Nov 2015 12:00pm
CHEAP WINE & CRUSHED DREAMS
Dancing drunk to Bacharach at two in the morning
Dancing drunk with a stain on my pants
The belt undone
And when Cilla sings, 'What's It All About?
We look at each other and shake our heads
Our boy is crashed out on the floor
Our girl is God knows where
The cat's licking the take-away tray
And then there's me
And there's you
Still clinging to something
Decades down the line
Yeah, we've had our days of taxicabs and butter
We've had our chances
But right now
Jesus Christ
I could ...
Aaahhh, WHAT THE HELL!
...
Dancing drunk with a stain on my pants
The belt undone
And when Cilla sings, 'What's It All About?
We look at each other and shake our heads
Our boy is crashed out on the floor
Our girl is God knows where
The cat's licking the take-away tray
And then there's me
And there's you
Still clinging to something
Decades down the line
Yeah, we've had our days of taxicabs and butter
We've had our chances
But right now
Jesus Christ
I could ...
Aaahhh, WHAT THE HELL!
...
453 reads
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MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
22nd Sep 2015 8:09pm
22nd Sep 2015 8:09pm
F is for Finsbury Park
I love flowers
I love the shapes they form
The colours, the scent.
The simple beauty they bring to the world.
But running your own business is tough, especially nowadays
And people see flowers as a luxury they can do without
Or something they can buy cheaper in the supermarket.
My Dad says that when you love your job
It's not like work. Every day is a pleasure.
'But when you've got no money,' I say back
'Every day is a battle for survival.'
He nods. 'When you've got no money
'You have to be creative.
And getting noticed is...
I love the shapes they form
The colours, the scent.
The simple beauty they bring to the world.
But running your own business is tough, especially nowadays
And people see flowers as a luxury they can do without
Or something they can buy cheaper in the supermarket.
My Dad says that when you love your job
It's not like work. Every day is a pleasure.
'But when you've got no money,' I say back
'Every day is a battle for survival.'
He nods. 'When you've got no money
'You have to be creative.
And getting noticed is...
517 reads
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MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
23rd Jul 2015 10:36pm
23rd Jul 2015 10:36pm
H is for Hackney
I had to give up the stand up,’ I told her,
As she checked the buttons on her shirt.
‘I was … too funny,’ I said.
‘People were getting hurt. Cracking ribs and that.’
'You're weird,' she said
She held a hand up to one eye and looked at me as though through a lens.
'Always different, always the same,' I replied.
The gig hadn't gone well for Mick the Mic and
She’d found me at the bar after the mic had been pulled.
After I'd been told to go take a hike.
'Your act is certainly … different,' she sighed
‘And different sticks in your...
As she checked the buttons on her shirt.
‘I was … too funny,’ I said.
‘People were getting hurt. Cracking ribs and that.’
'You're weird,' she said
She held a hand up to one eye and looked at me as though through a lens.
'Always different, always the same,' I replied.
The gig hadn't gone well for Mick the Mic and
She’d found me at the bar after the mic had been pulled.
After I'd been told to go take a hike.
'Your act is certainly … different,' she sighed
‘And different sticks in your...
583 reads
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MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
23rd Jul 2015 10:35pm
23rd Jul 2015 10:35pm
B is for Baker Street
Fuck this DUMP!
This tourist pub
Where the barman can't even pour a pint of Guinness.
'Let it stand,' I want to shout.
‘LET-IT-STAND!’
But I don't say anything because Cecelia chose the place
And she's Lu's favourite aunt.
In her 70s she is, and come all the way down from Kilburn.
KILBURN for Christ's sake
Where she’s been mugged 3 times.
And no wonder, I think,
Limping along with a stick,
With gold around her neck,
With her handbag swinging open.
At the bar, some old boy in a flat cap barks, ...
This tourist pub
Where the barman can't even pour a pint of Guinness.
'Let it stand,' I want to shout.
‘LET-IT-STAND!’
But I don't say anything because Cecelia chose the place
And she's Lu's favourite aunt.
In her 70s she is, and come all the way down from Kilburn.
KILBURN for Christ's sake
Where she’s been mugged 3 times.
And no wonder, I think,
Limping along with a stick,
With gold around her neck,
With her handbag swinging open.
At the bar, some old boy in a flat cap barks, ...
567 reads
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MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
22nd Jul 2015 11:00am
22nd Jul 2015 11:00am
I is for the Isle of Dogs
Her eyes flick over me as fast as a barcode scanner.
She has all the information she needs,
Right here and right now.
She says something about the Workfare Scheme
The opportunities there are in retail.
Tesco is mentioned.
I have to stop myself from laughing.
Stop myself from saying,
No, that ain’t gonna happen,
Not in a MILLION FUCKING YEARS!
I turn away and look out of the window and
Think about Trevor on the streets of Los Santos.
She talks some more.
She checks my book
To check on the jobs I’ve...
She has all the information she needs,
Right here and right now.
She says something about the Workfare Scheme
The opportunities there are in retail.
Tesco is mentioned.
I have to stop myself from laughing.
Stop myself from saying,
No, that ain’t gonna happen,
Not in a MILLION FUCKING YEARS!
I turn away and look out of the window and
Think about Trevor on the streets of Los Santos.
She talks some more.
She checks my book
To check on the jobs I’ve...
494 reads
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MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
22nd Jul 2015 10:58am
22nd Jul 2015 10:58am
Don't Read Bukowski
Don’t read Bukowski,’ he told me.
‘He’ll get under your skin.
And if you’re not ready to spend most of your time in hell,
Don’t read Bukowski.’
‘I won’t,’ I said.
I didn’t even know who Bukowski was
Until he pulled out a paperback and pushed it my way.
It’d gone eleven and he’d been my best friend
For the last half hour.
He slurred a bit but was still drinking.
He said his name was Mick,
And his mates, he let me know,
Were in the kebab shop next door.
‘If you’re not ready to drink like a pro,’ he hissed, ...
‘He’ll get under your skin.
And if you’re not ready to spend most of your time in hell,
Don’t read Bukowski.’
‘I won’t,’ I said.
I didn’t even know who Bukowski was
Until he pulled out a paperback and pushed it my way.
It’d gone eleven and he’d been my best friend
For the last half hour.
He slurred a bit but was still drinking.
He said his name was Mick,
And his mates, he let me know,
Were in the kebab shop next door.
‘If you’re not ready to drink like a pro,’ he hissed, ...
#CharlesBukowski
577 reads
1 Comment
LOVE POEM
Published
20th Jul 2015 10:48am
20th Jul 2015 10:48am
C is for Camden Town
Been on Soulmates again
And managed to set up a date with Dave.
We arrange to meet in Camden and go for a drink.
He doesn’t look much like his photo, but that’s nothing new.
He’s quiet until he gets a beer inside him and then he warms up
And yacks on about his big money job, his car, and his mates
Without even asking about me.
When I tell him I’m an artist
I swear to God he does a double take
And tells me he likes the good stuff
But none of that modern crap.
Over the road a crowd has gathered and
We go outside to see...
And managed to set up a date with Dave.
We arrange to meet in Camden and go for a drink.
He doesn’t look much like his photo, but that’s nothing new.
He’s quiet until he gets a beer inside him and then he warms up
And yacks on about his big money job, his car, and his mates
Without even asking about me.
When I tell him I’m an artist
I swear to God he does a double take
And tells me he likes the good stuff
But none of that modern crap.
Over the road a crowd has gathered and
We go outside to see...
522 reads
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MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
20th Jul 2015 10:47am
20th Jul 2015 10:47am
The Stag Night
Be at the pub for six,’ Mick said.
‘We’ll have a few beers and then head into town.’
When I arrived at ten past they were all drinking shots.
They put a scotch in my hand and a wig on my head.
Dom looked out of the window
Looked out of the window again
Then looked at his watch.
Stripper, I thought, it being my stag.
A nun or a copper,
One of them who grinds her backside into my face …
But then I saw it.
A stretch limo blocking the street.
‘Weh-hey,’ I cried, and grabbed Dom around the neck.
Stretched out in...
‘We’ll have a few beers and then head into town.’
When I arrived at ten past they were all drinking shots.
They put a scotch in my hand and a wig on my head.
Dom looked out of the window
Looked out of the window again
Then looked at his watch.
Stripper, I thought, it being my stag.
A nun or a copper,
One of them who grinds her backside into my face …
But then I saw it.
A stretch limo blocking the street.
‘Weh-hey,’ I cried, and grabbed Dom around the neck.
Stretched out in...
716 reads
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MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
18th Jul 2015 11:42am
18th Jul 2015 11:42am
Still Alive But Not Sure Why
Still alive but not sure why
We sit in the Crown and cling to our beer.
You’re the down escalator, she says to me,
You’re the stone in a shoe.
And you’re my poem, I tell her,
My back of a beer mat poem.
Your jealousy is like hay fever in spring.
It’s only going to get worse.
Jealousy, I tell her, is an expression of love
That means more than any bunch of flowers.
Still alive but not sure why, she says to me,
In this light you look ugly and handsome at the same time.
I look at her chipped nails,
Her tatty jacket,...
We sit in the Crown and cling to our beer.
You’re the down escalator, she says to me,
You’re the stone in a shoe.
And you’re my poem, I tell her,
My back of a beer mat poem.
Your jealousy is like hay fever in spring.
It’s only going to get worse.
Jealousy, I tell her, is an expression of love
That means more than any bunch of flowers.
Still alive but not sure why, she says to me,
In this light you look ugly and handsome at the same time.
I look at her chipped nails,
Her tatty jacket,...
601 reads
1 Comment
LOVE POEM
Published
16th Jul 2015 2:57pm
16th Jul 2015 2:57pm
Fleabite Scabs
They looked like fleabite scabs on her ankles.
She had a chipped-tooth smile
A fat back
And smelt of tomorrow’s laundry basket, today.
But when she said
The clothes dumped outside charity shop
Looked like a bed of flowers
I noticed that her lips were prettier
Than anyone else’s in the pub that night
And her flea bitten ankles had shape.
So I offered to buy her a drink.
Anyone who thought rags
Strewn across the path
Looked like roses in bloom
Was worth a vodka and coke any day of the week.
She had a chipped-tooth smile
A fat back
And smelt of tomorrow’s laundry basket, today.
But when she said
The clothes dumped outside charity shop
Looked like a bed of flowers
I noticed that her lips were prettier
Than anyone else’s in the pub that night
And her flea bitten ankles had shape.
So I offered to buy her a drink.
Anyone who thought rags
Strewn across the path
Looked like roses in bloom
Was worth a vodka and coke any day of the week.
453 reads
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