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The audacity to call myself a poet, when I start to put it down on paper..

Turn off the light, snuff out the candle, blow it.

Read it back, think sod this, come back later..

Self appointed title as I ain’t got no qualifications..

Teenage battery hen sat in line..

Pen in hand, not a clue, didn’t fit 80’s education

Degradation pulls in for a fill up when ego hints of self-inflation..

Back in the day, a Little Chef, every time, the go to self service station..

Rage against the Machine, on the tape deck..

Inducing a foot tappin' neck crackin' head slammin’ sensation..

Moulder and Scully couldn’t even work me out..

Episode one through 10 in a season long investigation.

4 star leaded used to fuel the nation, had something to give..

Choke the lungs Marlboro Red style nestled between nicotine stained fingers.

Exhaled carcinogenic fumes, live forever alleviation.

Canals fill with deja-vu inducing tunes..

Drift away on a live forever cloud of blue..

Dreams of kissing and hiding away..

Wipers washed the rain again..

Young stupid, clueless, thinking there was only me and you..

Head down, quieter now..

Backs against wind swept sand dunes.

Lost on a tide of 90's tunes..

Peter Pan had nothing on me..

Despite rear view mirror betrayal I see..

Timeless belief, a watch with no hands

Dreams kicking around my mind like old tin cans..

Life seemed simple without any plans..

Cups without saucers lidless pots and empty pans..

Head full of nothing with everything to do lists..

Smeared with ink stained hands..

Shopping list full of poetic words..

Item 1.

An audacious poet with dreams and plans..


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