He’s The Dug
Mud-sucked.
Stuck on the sedged ridge edge
Up to my neck
In a blast of wind
Would blow your boots off.
They had to get a tractor
To tug me out.
The wife gave me a bath;
Scalded and scoured me like a step,
Muttering “Daddy - you bastard”
Under her breath.
Crow cackled.
Optional last line:
I thought, "Cheeky c**t!".
Sloth Day Man
It was my fiftieth year. Good heavens!
Woke to a pulsing in my battered and unbarbered head
From the spiked drink and the shrill shrike-
Shattered ear
From karaoke.
With painful prostate peeing, then, I took a look
At the clock, not failing to note it was not at all
Too early for work.
Felt pukey.
…
Under the duvet then, that comforting shroud
There I would snivel
My birthday
Away with my pyjamas on the wrong way round.
Last edited by Philip Quinlan; 02-20-2009 at 03:28 AM.
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