Category Archives: Death

Let’s Grow Old Together

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I’m unsure as to what I should say about this. People worry a lot about getting old. They shouldn’t.

Let’s Grow Old Together

On his last day of life, his old wife had been tinkling
But hurried out crying, on spying an inkling
That shortly she’d wither and blither and crinkle
A sign of senescence, in essence… a wrinkle

Her husband awoke and he spoke to her sweetly
In mirrors he sneaked his own peek quite discreetly
And cried in dismay at the grey on his head
I too regret I am better off dead

They rushed to embrace and to face the cruel fact
They took off their gloves then, in love, made a pact
She cried This is it, we must quit! then, all told
They died where they stood, as you should when you’re old

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This rabbit is looking a bit long in the tooth

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Take Three

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Seeing as today’s other poem was a bit cynical and miserable, I thought I’d upload a sillier poem about another date with my girlfriend. This one was still a bit disastrous but for much more innocent and amusing reasons.

I had my arm twisted by a friend who worked in a coffee shop and ended up biting off more than I could chew.

This is only slightly fictionalised.

Take Three

The cashier heard we’d come to take
One piece of cake to fuel our break
He said Take three for goodness sake!
And so we did
A big mistake

And so I bought, not one, but three
A cup of tea (to make it twee)
My girlfriend raised one brow at me
But I was happy
As can be

The first: A sponge cake, as a team
We pushed through cream, the moistest dream
My girlfriend chuffed, I saw her beam
But things were not sweet
As they seem

Our second piece: A brownie slice
Ooh this is nice was whispered twice
We’d gambled and the rolling dice
Disguised our doom
As Paradise

Last of all, and with a sigh
We turned our eye to honey pie
We felt our organs twist and tie
And boil and burst
And fail and die

We sat unable to digest
Each lung hard pressed inside each chest
We fell to cardiac arrest
Were carried out
And laid to rest

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My health has desserted me

Unquiet Slumber

Unquiet Slumber

A while back, I was at my friends’ wedding. They got married in a beautiful church and had the reception in a lovely venue at the bottom of the graveyard. There was a long and winding road to this venue but the quickest route was to weave between the graves themselves, edging your way down the reasonably steep hill.

That was alright on the way down but, by the time I left, it had been raining for a very long time and it was almost completely pitch black outside. This made the hill extremely precarious and turned the graves into hidden stumbling blocks.  On my way up, I had a little accident.

Unquiet Slumber

The sleepers lay in rows and columns
Names erased by years and years
Of Heaven’s tears
That sponged the stone
Fed the moss
Till all that stood were monoliths

But even these were barely visible
As the day decayed
Five pilgrims, I among them, felt their way
Between the shades of grey and black
Below the church a wedding choir sang
Shut up and dance with me
A hymn of innocence

I clasped a card
A token
My unspoken tribute I’d present
In homage to
The 405 to West Croydon

I fell behind as we proceeded
Up the tear stained hill
Still slick
Unobserved beside me, was a grave
Let me describe it to you

At the top, the gravestone leant
Itself grown old
It’s broken skin bled water on what lay below
The plot was marked by cornerstones
Four small, square stones that showed the sides

But as yet
I was unfamiliar with these details
Blindly slipping by
Till slipping by was slipping over

I don’t know how well acquainted you are with graves
Perhaps you’ve seen your share
Or laid a flower
Perhaps you’ve sat and cried
Or bowed your head
But I feel confident that very few
Very, very few of you
Have, at speed
Felt both feet fly off the ground
Fallen, flailing frantically
Your panicked cry drowned out
By a resounding round of
Here’s to you Mrs Robinson
As you plummet
Wrenching your leg over a cornerstone
And headbutting another

I have

I came to rest
Still smartly dressed
But now rocking that slightly ‘distressed’ look
And lay in imitation
Of the man, or woman, or child
I don’t know
Who lay 6 feet below
I took a moment
To confirm I was not broken
I heard my friend cry
Ben, what’ya doin’ on the floor?

I slowly stood
An unbearable agony
Prevented me
From putting weight on my left knee
In shredded trousers, trembling
I stepped one… little… step…

And fell again
My brain was overwhelmed with input
Overloading
Over I went
A spent force physically
And then came the collision

Head to headstone
Loaf to rock
A sickening clock

And so I lay once more
As will o’ wisps went winding through my eyes
Another cry Ben mate, get up
Just audible as revellers raised hands in praise
Exclaiming I’m in love with her and I feel fine

A wet and beaten, defeated figure
Rose from the grave

Astonished glances danced from friendly faces
Ben, what the hell happened to you?

I shook the dust from my clothes
Straightened my hair
You think this is bad? I said
You should see the other guy

This chili pepper opted to be buried at sea but, you know, cut backs.

This chili pepper opted to be buried at sea but, you know, cut backs.

The Curious Case

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I had actually completely forgotten about this poem (if it can really be called a poem) until I flicked through the notebook of my earliest stuff. I don’t really know where it came from but I thought it was strangely compelling. It also features a truly awful and nonsensical pun.

The Curious Case

How very curious he said
And died
But he wasn’t a cat
So far as I know – which isn’t far
But even a broken pen is write twice a day

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This is quite a curious case

Feet

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‘Feet’ is about a man whose feet have a mind of their own. It has terrible, terrible consequences. I wrote this in my second year of university when I was on placement. I was probably suffering from exhaustion.

Feet

Feet feet, in shower they meet
Walk me down a gloomy street
Walk me to a grimy bar
No my feet! You’ve gone too far!

Feet feet, two socks of meat
Dancing to the crazy beat
Dancing on the table top
Come now feet! It’s time to stop!

Feet feet, ten toes complete
Take me where the barmen eat
Take me right into the pie
Get me eaten by some guy

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Into a pie? Sounds like quite an impressive feat!

 

Chocolate Sprouts

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One of the most exciting parts of Christmas Eve is hanging up the stockings! While it’s impossible to predict exactly what Father Christmas will place in them, there are certain things that appear each and every year.

One of these things, in my house at least, is a bag of chocolate sprouts. Yes, chocolate sprouts. Like chocolate coins, but sprouts. It’s not complicated.

In Chocolate Sprouts, the two breeds of sprouts (brussels and chocolate) are engaged in a violent war.

Chocolate Sprouts

Chocolate sprouts are breaking free
Sneering as they look at me
Chocolate sprouts are breaking loose
Oh, what carnage they produce

Chocolate sprouts are breaking in
See the Brussels siege begin
Chocolate sprouts are breaking through
Howling as they come for you

Chocolate sprouts are breaking up
Lighting candles as they sup
Chocolate sprouts are breaking out
Snorting as they charge about

Chocolate sprouts are breaking off
Civil War! The Brussels scoff
Chocolate sprouts are breaking down
Melting into pools of brown

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The Brussels Sprouts Boil With Anger

Invisible Touch

Invisible Touch

Phil Collins recently announced the exciting news that he is coming out of retirement! He’s promising a new album and even a tour! Needless to say, I was overwhelmed by this news, so I thought it was time to post another poem from the Phil Collins Saga. You can find some others under the ‘Longer Projects’ category. An assassin has been hired by the forces of light who have been forced to resort to cruel methods to end Collins’ reign of terror. However it may seem, this poem is not the end of the story.

Invisible Touch

His feet were silent
Light as air
The river running dark and brown
He crept along
The narrow bank
His task; to take Phil Collins down

So many ways
To do the deed
Shoot, smother, poison, stab, or drown
He slipped into
An alleyway
At dusk to take Phil Collins down

His blue robe trailing
Whispers soft
This figure haunts the old Swiss town
Two velvet gloves
Upon the hands
He’ll use to take Phil Collins down

The house now breached
Phil Collins found
Resplendent in his dressing gown
A shadow looming
Rush of air
He’s here to take Phil Collins down

The job done swiftly
Scarce a scream
The blue assassin stops to frown
For life’s one purpose
All his days
Had been to take Phil Collins down

But now returning
Bringing death
His handiwork of some renown
With vigour now
A righteous goal
His task; take Eric Clapton down

He suspects nothing

He suspects nothing