Supermarket whale meat

Cash sick James Bond nameless man
Flat-path woman enforced, hill-walking stick distract, unused upper-lip wax coupon
Protesting at cars, of a mountain, praised legitimate meek
Her sinless son laughed, uninvited Cleaners were also mothers
These materialist sights
She was a yesterday repeat, conversation one was self, and hate, and hate for his small dog
I aged away in a cheap hat
Him in the middle of thirty, low down in eleven years of metal fatigue, to Manchester-upon-The Irish Sea
All our Futures
Snow

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This entry was posted in poem, poetry, prose, poet, creative writing, writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to Supermarket whale meat

  1. Gold poetic & phenomenal cut up experimentation. This is true poetry at its best.

    I applaud you for using the cut up. It helps build new and different meaning in poetry and how people should read poetry.

    Liked by 1 person

    • This one was quite difficult to write, I knew what I wanted to do, to say, but kept scrapping progress and starting again, it took me two days, on and off, which is a rather long for me to write anything. I wanted it to be difficult to interpret and ‘un-grammarly’ in spots, not based on any physical written sources, but on sights, sounds, conversations that happened across a few hours during one day last week.

      Liked by 1 person

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