Misbehaving Mantra

I cut out the last pages of mystery books.
I give Nuns blasphemous looks.
I sit at the back of the bus and smoke.
I teach your Gran filthy jokes.
I take up two seats on the train.
I drive slowly in the fast lane.
I enjoy farting in bed.
I remember every lie you said.
I return all your CDs scratched.
I consider myself a great catch.
I refuse to flush the lavatory.
I think I’m brilliant at poetry


Pub Armistice


Wine glass stems gripped so tight they might break,
Lighters flicked on and off illuminating,
Two pairs of eyes that don’t want to meet.
While their offspring springs off on his scooter,
To investigate the fruit machine’s lights,
Oblivious to this cold war on a summer’s day.