poems

FALSE GIRL

Just look at your false plastic boobs wobbling as you dance.                                                                        Not for me love.                                                                                                                                     Same as your false smile that tries to ensnare me by that lipstick cavorting grin.                                             A false fake.                                                                                                                                                Not for me, your eyes don't smile.                                                                                                           

What a lie.                                                                                                                                                       

Next is your fake tan looking orange under the bar light, made for the disposable society you inhabit.                                                                                                                                                          

Who an earth would like you?                                                                                                                         A similar fake chavvy guy?                                                                                                                             On and on you fakely go, sending a glare at the real women who are a threat and don't have fake peroxide hair that looks false.                                                                                                           Your blond false hair says you're a bimbo.                                                                                                                 

What next?                                                                                                                                                     

Your false dress maybe?                                                                                                                                        If that was on some guy’s bedroom floor, would we see nip and tuck going with your Botox?

BACK O' PUB

We went into the pub's beer garden to see the illegal vodka factory run by Eastern Europeans.                                                                                                                                        We dance madly around their lorry and sing, "Give us a drink! We're parched like the Gobi Desert. Don't you know? We drank the pub dry? Vodka time."                                               

The Easties open the wagon side curtains and give out the booze.                                                              A one litre bottle each.                                                                                                                  We get it on and thank the Albanian and Hungarian gangster illegal immigrants for their Xylene flavoured vodka.                                                                                                                      

It's New Years Eve and we get it on big time.                                                                                     Excuse me while I pop into the truck's cab with my exotic lady and make love.                               Then we need more vodka.                                                                                                          Shame the bar is dry.                                                                                                                                               Oh my, we're so drunk...

SUK

When we were sixteen years age we did something mad,                                                                                             that we shouldn't have done.                                                                                                                         Our parents would have gone ballistic if they found out,                                                                                              you sucking my dick behind the garages at Moorside.                                                                                                      We would have been separated and sent to different schools.                                                                                        Your mum going mad, my dad beating me up.                                                                                                             Accusing us of being idiots,                                                                                                                                    not being able to grasp what we were doing.                                                                                                  That we're just fucking kids!                                                                                                                       

We never got caught and met each day from aged sixteen.                                                                            How many times did you gobble my cock?                                                                                                 Minus weekends and holidays.                                                                                                        

Hundreds of times before we reached adult age, eighteen.                                                                                                   

Being stopped would have changed our lives forever.                                                                                          

As it was, our days went by and we met behind the garages doing our thing.                                        Your hot moist lush lips on my big dick.                                                                                                                   Right through our teens,                                                                                                                                   into our twenties and thirties.                                                                                                                                     Stopping by the garage,                                                                                                                              each day for you to suck my pecker.                                                                                                                                      

We both have real history, past our marriages and families.                                                                       One day I'll see your pussy and lick you out.                                                                                                   Then give you a baby or two;                                                                                                                            I’ll leave my wife and you leave your man.                                                                                                            Then we’ll be totally together,                                                                                                                                 more than twenty odd years of blow jobs bring us to this point.