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Some Men

Above all, some men crave certainty.
The same chair in their pub or club
which they think they own.
The way they react
like overgrown school kids
if someone else is unwittingly sitting there
when they arrive. The piercing stare
sharp as any arrow or knife,
gives out the message, Leave, leave, leave,
with not a please in sight.
That same lager, Carling, Coors
or some other fizzy muck,
filled with frightful stuff just to make it
almost enough to be what it has pretentions to.
Then they actually drink the noxious brew .
After four or five their tongues come alive
and they appear, floating on a boat
above their moat,
after emerging from dark rooms inside their fort
to begin the talk they always talk, about banana boats,
the price of fish, and how the barmaid
is a dish worth having.
Then they depart,
issuing one carefully measured fart,
leaving their mark so to speak,
to go for a leak in the “bogs”
as they call The Gents.
Feeling a little bent out of shape,
maybe even poetically inspired
while having a pee, they might add
to the tired graffiti
that adorns the cubicle wall.
“I wuz ‘ere so fuck you all."

18 Jan 17

Rated 9 (9) by 2 users.
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Nothing olfactory about it. NOT. This is damn good writing and I loved it.
 — jenakajoffer

Cheers jenaka.....one tries ones best as her majesty says.

Larry ermine and furs Lark
 — larrylark

 — unknown

I don't recognise the person in this poem who visited me during a dream, or at least i think it was a dream.

Larry disclaimer Lark
 — larrylark