Friday 19 April 2013

awesomely cool poems by nick lol

Posh

Posh Goth historian lady walks seductively around the darkly delicious graveyard. Wearing a red tight button skirt, black blouse and bare feet. She waits for me, in vain. I broke it off and went my own way. No more Goth for me or women for me. I ditched being miserable when I met my boyfriend Johan of Hannover. Will my family forgive me for turning gay and breaking a real English rose's heart? I listen to classical music and work for Siemens now. A happy life. Yes I still like my dear Goth historian but as a friend. Please don't be mad. Enjoy your English graveyards. Do visit us in Germany soon my dear to meet my boyfriend and see some history.

West

We head west to our party to have a laff. Beer is free, provided by the host, and food, all you can eat. It's a case of bring your own lady if you want female companionship. Myself, I like to dally with the girls who turn up and act like lads. Single, drinkers, up for a shag and one of the lads, holding their own in drinking games.

We spin the bottle and answer stupid questions on ourselves or do a mad act. One gal gave a lad a blow job right before us! Damn, the guy enjoyed it. I catch her eye after she's made herself decent; I want my claim of her later. The bottle stops at me and I must drink two cans of beer one after the other. I've had seven already, hope I don't pass out or vomit! Need to be able to fuck Elsa later.

By the table an argument over football erupts. Bloody sport! Why can't they just drink and chase gals? Look at the tipsy couple getting it on by the sofa. A real sight. She's got a shaven pussy, when I’m ready I’ll test her out. Party time at my mate's, always fun and never boring.

 

Where

I know she's out there somewhere. Waiting for me to find her. Where is she?
What if we should have met a decade ago and now it's too late? I assume my gut feeling will tell me who she is. I'll see if it's right or not. In the mean time Lady Fate can bring me a lover,
before I meet my life partner. I need some fun!

Lazarus

I wonder where you are right now, at this time. Do you exist as a whole person or have some parts missing? I remember your cool sense of humour, when you put diesel in my petrol tank.                                                  
I was even cooler when I cut your brake lines and you drove off a cliff. It was a six hundred foot drop, straight down. I wanted a big explosion but there was only a thud. Do you still exist, broken and disfigured, amongst the trees in a squashed car?                                                         

Nobody knew you were there, except me. It was a remote mountain road. I jumped out of the car before you soared over the edge, like a flightless bird. My bruises healed and I walked back to town. Any questions on your whereabouts, I'm a seasoned liar. Part of me is unsure though; are you really dead? The car never blew up. Was the drop enough to finish you?                                                                             
I must climb down to check and take my gun, just in case.

9mm

Bullets in a wedding cake. How did they get there? Gothic wedding gone wrong, big time. Bride and groom both dead, full of nine milli bullet holes. Like their precious cake. There was a big row over an affair. You must understand, they were only just married and hadn’t consecrated their marriage yet. So were they really married? Was it official? And can an affair be classed as an affair, if they hadn’t yet made love? Also the affairs weren’t real, they were theoretical arguments on what either would do if the other cheated by an affair. He joked that her sporty sister was fit and he wanted to see her on the side. His wife retaliated by jesting how nice his squaddie cousin was and was he an equal lover? What happened next was a bit of a blur, a gun was produced and shots fired. Four bullets wrecked the wedding cake and one killed the new pagan bride. But who shot the gothic groom? Witnesses swore he had the gun and never turned it on himself. His wife was cold dead on the floor, half her pretty face missing.                                                                                                                
No matter who shot her man, the result was a tragedy. There would be no honeymoon for this dead couple. No going to heavy metal gigs, no trips to art galleries, no themed vampire nights in the local church and no long precious years together. All because of a silly row over affairs that hadn’t yet happened and now never would.

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