'Poems' for you

A friend (yes, I've got a few!) emailed me the other day and asked to see some more pictures of what I made in Scotland. Well, I haven't got any more pictures, or things that I made. What you saw below (Narrative Self: End of the day) is more or less it, bar some drawings in a sketchbook - which are going to stay there (I have a bad relationship with my drawings at the moment: they are bad and I'm failing to change their attitude...).

But I did write some 'poems'. I use the term very loosely since I know nothing about writing poetry and just make it up as I go along (ha, ha!). I have a dim recollection of what an iambic pentameter is and could probably recognise a sonnet, but that's about it. I've been writing for as long as I can remember, but I've never shown anyone (for fear of ridicule obviously!), but today I'm going to be brave and will show you something I wrote up north. If you have an aversion to crude language move to another post now, because that's mostly what it consists of - I think I may have been unduly influenced by the vernacular in the Lumsden bar...

Close My Eyes

She had a good time fucking around and playing the field
Hanging out in clubs with her knickers down
I was the 'clever' one stuck at home
Waiting on promises of things to come
Waiting on passion that never begun
Closing my eyes and wishing for the day
When someone would hold me and put it away
Closing my eyes and dreaming of the day
When I would take it and put it away
Close my eyes and dream of the day
When I will fuck it and have it away