Peter Yowie Poetry
I just bought the natural blonde and not the pure blonde beers at aldis where it was half the price, because I don’t want to be ripped off by these blondes anymore. If anyone else flashed their titties and sung bad karoke in a new York bar we wouldn’t be lining up for it, but it’s Madonna where a bit of honey helps me swallow the bad medicine
Night time, bedside fan on even in winter, I’ve sucked plenty of mouths, a lot of my girlfriends flew south, I buy myself flowers.
Being a poet like I am, sometimes it feels like a cruel joke. I wake up to a late breakfast with the Gods and the yolk of the sun and the folks going about their lives. Neighbours who smoke their drugs and sweep their problems under the rug. You all treat John Lennon like a God, not like the man he was. You all call him a man of peace, yet in his younger days he was actually quite aggressive. You wouldn’t want to be at the end of john Lennon’s wit because it was like a knife blade. You wouldn’t want to be in John Lennon’s bad books. If you find a guru, you wake up to being human.
