Here are some poems, composed by a puppet,

some are my own and some of them not.

You can like one, or quite like them all,

or simply not like them a hell of a lot.


x



Wednesday, 4 January 2012

Swimming to Work on My Bicycle.

The water hits like a wave. Slapping
me about with closed fists,
a proper beating. I
wend away while
brutal blows
keep on
raining
down on
my head now
drenched. A drowned
rat, caught splat, slap
in the middle of a blind storm.
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