Tag Archives: writer

Teenage Dream (4RW)

We were apples in fields of Perry,

Our exercise books were the gallery and shade where we ripened.

Your gallant smile garnished my appetite as my heart galloped.

At a chance glance you stirred the meat and the juices, I couldn’t decide between hunger and thirst.

I would have licked your lips for starters, chewed on your garter.

Every note was a recipe and I wanted you to cook my parsnip

Yet I was just fishing and you were already parsley.

We were like onion and garlic when English and Geography brought us together


Fondling the fringe of our fantasies in front of our future was a natural hazard.

Playing with the shape of you was the intention but, maybe I killed us thinking out loud.

Forethought and hindsight were toll roads asking us if we had enough change.

How deep were our pockets? Was I ready for yours in mine?

What’s a perfect 10 when you’re in year 9?

We never….so I guess I’ll never…..never mind

It was real at the time.


Maybe you were the first brick in a very long road

Maybe we would have found the lost city of gold

Now you’re living on the other side of a rainbow.

My flag is nowhere to be seen.

You’re the pear in a Perry field because I didn’t have the bottle.

I’m not a whine seller, simply a painter of paths.

Our moments on Fleet Street… thanks.



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Filed under Relationships


I’m wondering if my next rhyme will be better than my ex rhyme

Like a villain and his next crime will it get better headlines

I’m emptying my spirit so all I’ve got is head lines

My soul loves being oral so all I’m giving’s head lines

Take you to bed lines,

Kill you with fantasy and give you nothing but deadlines

Call your sanity with my reality and get nothing but deadlines

Cross you out like I’m correcting minds my pen deals in red lines

My life stage is my page I prefer jump offs to read lines

I’m ballin with my tongue, I score cos I’ve lead lines

I see thought and I’m fed lines,I feed folk with my breadlines

Gave birth when I bred lines

I got shot and I bled lines poetic therapy were my med lines

It wasn’t my time so there were no deadlines

And still I’m wondering if my next line will be better than my ex line

Like a villain wanting to be better with his next crime

I’ll be fly but wont feather my next rhyme

I’ll muscle up a metaphor and exercise a flex line

Fill you with a spirit make you think its a hex line

You say anything you lose everything I call it an X line

But if I’m lost in you we might be the subjects of my next line





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Filed under Random Poetics