Tag Archives: poetry

Sexy as a Toaster

Online comments can be very strange and I do get my fair share. Some really nice ones and downright evil ones! I wrote a poem inspired by one that was left on a picture on Facebook last night which simply said “Sexy as a toaster”. Now what on earth does that mean? I couldn’t decide if it was derogatory or not but I had a good old chuckle at it and before I knew it…


‘Sexy as a Toaster’

I’ve known some hot kitchen goods in my time

I once had an oven that blew my mind

And a frying pan that never quit

When I cracked a sexy egg in it

And don’t get me started on my fridge

What a sassy big bugger it is!

Teasingly cold and playfully solid

I’m sad when he’s empty – I feel plain horrid

 

My washing machine also rocks

It has me in a spin plus it gives me clean socks

I’ve never had a dishwasher – that’s like whoring out my plates

I caress each one individually in spite of the jealousy that creates

The kettle also does it for me every time without fail

Its steam is as mysterious as a bridal veil

But on the microwave I’m not so keen

I’ve never known a smugger machine!

 

In my mind there is no doubt who will reign supreme

The toaster is probably my wettest dream

Hotter than Racquel Welch or indeed the sun

I know exactly where I’m parking my bun(s)

Come bask in the warmth of its bready glow

Melts me like butter I’d like you to know

‘Am I as sexy as a toaster?’ I coyly request

I suppose I’ll never know but I could hazard a guess

The Health Service Drove me to Drink

I’m a decent person I like to think

but the NHS has drove me to drink

I’m not saying I’ve never drank before

but recently I’ve been drinking more

I tanned a bottle of cider last night before tea

whilst trying not to let it get to me

my rum intake has dramatically increased

in an attempt to subdue this many headed beast!

 

If I had to offer advice to a novice

I’d tell them not to work in an office

they’re definitely not for the faint of heart

they’ll most likely tear your soul apart

like a Cenobite or a spoiled angry child

they claw me with drivel and drench me in bile

it’s a nest of vipers with little respite

try not to move suddenly or they’ll bite!

 

Perhaps they were once decent like me

or am I overdosing on diplomacy?

Surely they weren’t always as difficult as this

forever lost in a crimson mist,

grumpy, unstable with tempers short

I’m sure you know the sort

I do wish they’d stop and consider

the plight of my poor liver

 

*Obviously this ode is not directed at the Health Service itself – as an institution it does some sterling work. It’s primarily aimed at figures who are corroding this great organisation from within 🙂

Bus Stop Poem (First Draft)

The following is a first draft of a poem I’ve been thinking about for a little while now. I seem to spend a lot of time waiting for and then sitting on buses late at night these days. It’s possible I could continue it further if I could find the time…

My eyes flick between my watch

and the deserted road ahead

how lovely would it be just now

to be all tucked up in bed?

I try to change the subject

instead reflecting on the day

more or less the usual shite

dressed up a different way

my hands began to shake

but not in the formal manner

as anger rose within me

like if I was David Banner

my face was incandescent

the rage was hard to rein

more difficult than quantum physics

or a semen stain

there should have been two buses by now

I stamp my little feet

The sound echoes noisily

down the empty street

I contemplate my lack of faith

in everything – myself included

I’ve far more diverse concepts and areas

in which I am deluded

my flight from god was easy

that’s god with a small ‘g’

are the lies I tell myself

worse than the lies that they tell me?

Errant vegetation hits me in the face

blown on an icy breeze

and I wonder distractedly if leaves

are called leaves because they always leave

I ask myself out loud

and get no definitive reply

then I notice some other people

standing nearby

a cis couple – not talking

as if in a mood

an older guy – thoroughly pished

tucking messily into some takeaway food

I think it’s chips

as I’m hit with a vinegary aroma

I close my eyes to concentrate

promising to control my

urge to seek solace in a bag myself

I’d have to abandon my post

I’ll just wait till I get home

and I can maybe make some toast!

Then out of the gloom a cheerful sight

the bus magically appears

I search my pockets for my pass

and inwardly cheer 🙂

The Poem Poem

‘The Poem Poem’

Most words I write have already been writ

I’m pretty prepared to admit

not every poem that rhymes is shit

that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it,

sometimes it’s like they’re built from a kit

sticking it together bit by bit

sometimes the pieces refuse to fit

so on forgotten pages they resignedly sit,

some write like a dream and are bursting with wit

if they were singles they would be a hit

or if they were villains your throat they would slit

and from their mouths evil laughs emit,

they’re never so long that they have to be split

before then I would surely have quit

like a hypocrite who learned to knit

whilst stuck in a pit that was filled with grit 😉

What’s your favourite Bowie?

Ziggy Bowie – Crooning Bowie

Plastic soul Bowie – Funky Bowie

Music Hall Bowie – Silly Boy Blue Bowie?

Cheeky Bowie – Laughing Gnome Bowie

Dark Bowie – Gay Bowie

Straight Bowie – don’t mind either way Bowie?

Androgynous Bowie – Eye-patch Bowie

Pierrot Bowie – Earthling Bowie

Space Bowie – Is it cold in space Bowie…would you like to borrow my jumper Bowie?

Cockney Bowie – Swiss Bowie

New York Bowie – Berlin Bowie

Eno Bowie – Iggy Bowie?

Goblin King Bowie – Vampire Bowie

Elephant Man Bowie – Snowman Bowie

P.O.W. Bowie – Shark Bowie? (Has anyone seen ‘Yellowbeard’?)

Bleached Blonde Bowie – Live Aid Bowie

Dancing in the Street with Mick Jagger Bowie

Tonight Bowie – Glass Spider Bowie

Tin Machine Bowie?

Bo-wie Bowie – Halloween Bowie

Arty Bowie – Little Drummer Boy Bowie

Or should I say Bing Crosby Bowie

Under Pressure Bowie?

Burroughs Bowie – Baal Bowie

Buddha Bowie – Jungle Bowie

Heathen Bowie – Lazarus Bowie

Unwashed and Somewhat Slightly Dazed Bowie?

I like all the Bowies – and always will Bowie

With little or no exception Bowie

It’s all good Bowie – Goodnight Bowie!

Anna’s Valentine Poem

‘Anna’s Valentine Poem’

 

I can’t guarantee chocolate

or rosey flowers

or ceaseless passion

for uncountable hours

but you can have my attention

and my utter devotion

…and all those other

gushy emotions! 😉

 

ajb

*This poem is dedicated to my wife xxx

Dick Pic

‘Dick Pic’

Sometimes my inbox is a scary place

Sometimes there are pictures – but not of a face

Or kittens or vegetables or castles or palaces…

But raging stonners and laughable phalluses!

A dick pic is not going to win my affection

I don’t care if you can achieve an erection

Everyone’s braver behind a mobile phone

I doubt if you’d be so cocky if we were alone