Friday, November 20, 2009

Skinny Cats

[Since we're on a pissy poetry roll, dahlings.]


Skinny cats
Slip through cracks
Deftly, softly, swiftly.
Their thin veins
And underfed frames
Make them agile and shifty

'Skinny Cat', by Ben Ditmars

Saturday, November 07, 2009

Angry poems about you

If you’re not eighteen yet, then don’t read another word. This post is not for you. Not because you can’t piss me off, but because this post contains inappropriate and uncensored thought and verbiage.

This is for all those who've pissed me off. Fuck you very much for chancing upon my life.

Radical You
I like sanitised environments
I like them
I like them
I like them
Neat. Sterile. Safe.
You can store all that intellectually stimulating chaos up your anus thankyouverymuch.
I’d much rather be safe.

My Many Nike Moments
Just because I laugh at your jokes
And look you in the eye
Doesn’t mean I like you.
Not this way or that
Do yourself a favour
Get stuffed.
Don’t think. Just do it.

Sleazy Platform Ticket Counter Man at Nizamuddin Railway Station
Your mouth is like a urinal mister
Your words slither like excrement
You’re violating me with your fuliginous spewage.
I want to poke your filthy groping eyes out.

In Public Spaces
Swagger an inch closer
I dare you swaggering swaggerer
I’ll stick your dick with an all-pin prick
And watch you stumble in pain.

Road Rage
I’d corner you against a wall and ram your rear repeatedly, but my car can’t takethe trauma.

Taximan and Automan
Who knew you had such talent?
Driving forth, looking back
Through the passenger watching rearview mirror!
Oh that long probing fondling stare
Makes me think you’ll do just as well without them.
So then, may I poke your eyes out with a rusty wrench?

My Childhood Paedophile
At the Chittaranjan Park Fish Market
For every chop chop chop
Quiver, flail and death
I picture the ceremony of your emasculation.


Fark along now. I've nothing more to say to you.