I'm more like a monkey at a typewriter than I realise.
She doesn’t get personal,. Although,. She can still be emotional,. Whilst getting her point across,. No name calling,. No bitching,. No throwing back in peoples faces,. Just honest,. And for that,.
Pour a coffee, Light a cigarette, Add more coffee, Its not home time yet. The turmoil’s and decisions, Of a normal working day, Shall it be tuna or chicken for lunch.
On the bing, bang, yike. I love a bit of Spike, And all the monkeys say so should you. There's a vase, a bin, a shed, Get his books. Get them read. He'll become your favourite too.
The butterflies are dying slowly, Our love is but an echo, Wanting to be together, Has become tiresome and slow.
If what you read, Is what you believe, Then surely this can’t be bad, But if you have questions which go unasked, And on making an opinion you always pass, Then surely life must be sad..
Why do bad things happen,. To those who deserve it least,. Dying young,. Cut down in your prime,. Dying old,. Of a broken heart,. Dying alone,. No one to grieve,. Dying to soon,.
To my wicked smile, Your laugh, Our dream of life, Can only escape..
Time passing,. Taking forever,. Time passing,. Never, never,. Waiting for,. The five o’clock chime,. For then I know,. It is home time,. Getting home,. Suffering from computer stare,.
In situations I don’t like, I love to cry, It helps to blur out, The things I don’t want to see, Help me to forget the situation, I find myself within, Eventually..
What if my life,. Never became a legacy,. Never left behind a wake,. For other people to tread upon,. What if my life,. Like a tear falling down a strangers face,. Unnoticed,. Unidentified,.
Without due care and attention, The legal term for this affray, Although this has nothing to do with court, Save that for another day.
Www dot, I don’t give a shit, Dot com, About people who publish on the internet, Porn, drugs, a D.I.Y bomb.
With his grey clouded eyes, It rained down upon him, The dark dull skies, And like tears, The anger welled up inside him, Standing under a friends umbrella, He was getting soaked by the storm..
I am not dependant, I do not need, Yet I can think of nothing else, Except this hunger I wish to feed.
Oh cake,. My dearest,. Why is it so,. That you must share yourself,. Giving prices of your whole,. To others,. Some of whom you may not know,. When I,. The one who holds you most dear,.
Its raining, It's pouring, The auld queens a tourin', Up and down the Thames she goes, Her wavin' hand'll hurt in the morning!.