lilydjames:poetry

Prelude: When you have to label, When you have to describe, You will often create Division, a bad vibe. There’s power in a name, Power in the naming. A name that is imposed Often needs reclaiming . . . Welcome to The Cougar Club. The first rule of Cougar Club is . . . I’m kidding, this is no Fight Club So don’t beat yourself up (spoiler) The first rule of Cougar Club is talk, Please please talk about Cougar Club. We share because we care and we know We are in unchartered waters right now, We’ve nearly drowned in other seas Unheard, sinking slowly to our knees. So let’s talk. The second rule of Cougar Club is Avoid weekends away and sleepovers, The pressure is on to look good for the duration All your mature experience may be what they chase But they don’t want to see it etched across your face. I know it’s been the same old shit since the year dot But we no longer get away with using what we’ve got. We work hard to hold back t...

So I wrote you a poem late last night, Thinking how the fuck will that Ever make things right? So I wrote you a poem late last night Couldn't sleep, needed rhythm To keep thoughts tight So I wrote you a poem late last night

The butterflies of love are the worst of all They churn in your stomach and form a tight ball They stick in your throat til your whole mouth dries And then turn to liquid and leak from your eyes.

Yummy Mummy I think I'd like to eat you, Sink my teeth into your chubby cub's flesh too. You're both looking tasty, so milky and sweet. Succulent, smug, like that pissed Japanese beef. Cougar thought all this before turning to run Disturbed by the hunger, how close she had come. "Don't eat the women" was her one moral code. With a louche sexy lope Cougar hit the road. And so our poor Milf trundled on unaware, But the cub, poor Boy, felt a chill in the air.

summer I open my window it’s hot as hell and sounds like hell hearing shrieking freakish laughter swishing bike chain rattled railings then lots of feet running somewhere sirens car crash TV gunshot sounds from a window below and above dull thuds real life beating a belt buckle swings a door slams feet with nowhere to run to, run hear foxes fuck and babies cry and I can’t quite tell which is which a couple argues, hot and angry same tired lines born of tiredness I hear a shower running, time alone heels click on concrete women laugh wobbling home cracking jokes and making me smile they’ve been dancing on feet that escaped for a while sounds good happy feet strolling home there is not often laughter here gangs gather and no-one collects the bins or opinions from us or them so good families left quiet footsteps echo sometimes sound of me closing my window taking the heat

listen, everyone’s dads, can you stop getting ill? stop working so hard, just lay off if you will I know it’s not natural, you being such blokes but, please, slow down, these ailments aren’t jokes.