Zuni from WOW! TATTOO MY BUTT - MORE MAD POEMS AND VERSE BY NICK By Nick Armbrister

Zuni

I'm the defective detective.

I marvel at the whiteness of frozen snow.

Left right upper leg.

Do you like beer?

No I like Ricky Gervais.

I'm inside the tumble dryer spinning in space.

Just made a hillinit bloody hooooot.

Why do I let the last 5 years drag me down?

Chained to me,

self destroying me from within.

I'm the Phantom Ray bombing plane with no pilot.

She ticked the opt out box and became

a peace loving vegan vampire bi-sexual lesbian called Sultry Sheba.

Dave can roll joints with his toes and smoke them with his bell end.

Curtain rail caterpillar coloured purple and beige.

Gibbering old people flying Messers over Russia.

Retirement?

Humbug flavoured gumdrops.

Silver beer cans tasting tinnily of champers.

Aldi luxury potatoes for tea.

Join me and talk gibberish.

BURIED ALIVE

I ask God to help me but he isn’t listening.

I’ve been buried alive six feet below ground.

My death will be agonising as I start to suffocate.

How did I get here in this terrible place?

Slowly I remember now, what I did.

I faked my own death to escape from prison

but they didn’t release me. So here I remain

running out of air going slowly insane

dying before my time.

new sister erotic ebook - Nick's world of writing

new sister erotic ebook - Nick's world of writing

A Sister's Tale and More Besides By Jimmy Boom Semtex

A Sister's Tale and More Besides

By Jimmy Boom Semtex

Liza is the girl next door type of lady. She lives a simple and rewarding life. Her sports physio job pays well. It also brings opportunities to meet men. As does socializing in pubs and clubs. She also likes the ladies. Join Liza when she parties, works, sees her sister and her friends. Her antics are both memorable and funny. Will she remember her lover's name in the morning? If we all had a sister, would she be like Liza? What would people think? Girl next door or party shocker?

http://www.lulu.com/shop/jimmy-boom-semtex/a-sisters-tale-and-more-besides/ebook/product-22378099.html

Hidden

Call me The Baron. My full name is Nicholas Arthur Armbrister. I bloody hate that name! Do you know how I feel? My first name used when I’m naughty. “Nicholas, you’ve had a new tattoo!”

You must be part German with a name like that. Say it slowly out loud:

A-R-M-B-R-I-S-T-E-R.

They got images of Hitler’s panzers and Blitzkreig, Stukas and goose steps. No denying my heritage, I’m part German, on my dad’s side. Armbrister.

He was in the British Army in World War 2, a Tommie. None of his mates guessed he was part German. Doing his bit for King and Country. His name is Arthur. The middle name I don’t tell anyone. Even today, I’m unsure why? Makes me eccentric – Nicholas Arthur Armbrister – The Baron!

My dad is my best mate. His stories of seeing Manchester in flames, December 1940, when he was in his dad’s car going from Ashton to Oldham, fascinated me. When he was conscripted, I knew he was no German. He saw his army mates die and became a man. How can I compare? Arthur, the name I never use. Known only to me and my family.

Some things are hidden, for hidden reasons. Others are an open book, for me to decide. What would you think if I told you my middle name is Arthur? After my dad. He saw Nazi bombers high over Coppice. A silver speck against the blue. Our gunfire missed by miles. If these same planes had bombed my dad, I’d never be born or called Arthur.

He told me how he collected warm bomb shrapnel, when the Germans did bomb. Memories of an old man, passed down to me. When I’m in Manchester tonight with her, I’ll think, What is it like to see a city burn at night while under enemy air attack?

YES YOU

Come and get me, show me the insides of my body.

What makes me tick? Cut my heart out

and show it beat to me, remove my brain

and cut my belly, put it inside—funny weight problem!

Cut my hands off and toast my fingers,

eat them as snitzels in gravy made from the skin

of my back. Put my tattoos on a lampshade to preserve my art.

Give them to my children to gaze upon in awe.

What will you do to me when I am in pieces, my soul in hell,

you in heaven with my blood on your hands?

Fry my muscles as a fire cooked steak…

don't cancel her gig...

don't cancel her gig...

Imposter
There's an imposter in the house of love. Stealing secrets at intimate moments. The band can't gig. You stop the gig; petty jealousy. Stopping her moving on. Pinning her in your spider's web of deceit. Intertwining her life with a river of lies. There will be no gig tonight. Or anytime soon if you have your way. This is where a warrior of the light comes in.

To utterly break your back and fuck up your fairytale of lies. Are you game to meet him head on and lose? Period. No second chance to stop her house of love gig. You, the spy failure, pretending to be her. Trying to steal her thunder. You did it once. Second time exfinite death, of you.

What do we make of you now? Because of the warrior of light, you hate even more. But not as much as she loathes you. You cancelled her gig once, not again. She learnt how to sing again. How to hold the audience in her hand. And they became one with her, all laughing at you. You, the failure and all things not to be liked in a person.

We don't even need to list your bad qualities. When they heard her song, torches were lit thru her land. She learnt to fly and gave the meek hope. Hope to stand up and fight. Defeating the nasty oppressors and complainers. Ending your tyranny with a song of innocence. While you, you live in a land of shit.