Lamb? What Lamb?

  Glass. [gaz's rockin blues] I didn’t reach over the table to glass you A fright of great self restraint I know But as my anger and disbelief grew I didn’t want to be another story embedded between your ex wielding a frying pan and your time in Bordeaux I didn’t slam your face into the wall When I found out you tried it on with my best mate twice at the bar I didn’t say anything at all I live with the fact I know who you are I didn’t shout or flip the table Knowing my silence cut sharper than glass Your actions albit fatal Showed me exactly who you are Who you are can be summarised In a few quick words I should have glassed you at the table But I didn’t feel like being barred from the bar Plus I know you know I know exactly who you are 

  EROTICA . [save The George Tavern] I’m waiting to order a drink at the George’s tavern The bar is short, the crowd is panicked How else will they order their IPAs Transfer money from savings to checkings to pay The girl behind me has “ totally  written a cool erotica” Her friends gush and moan Thighs clasped as they chit chat about feminist theories I scan the pub for a suitor of the night Not too hot not too weird The type you have to have a second glance at And please no Guinness drinkers with beards  Admit the sea of baby bangs and ironic baseball hats I’m a critical cliche But not in their way, in a  totally  cool way The bar is humbling as I wait to order a drink Conversation has dried up Change the barrel- the keg please “So how do you find… the pub?” “No I don’t come here a lot” The band announce their last song And the crowd take it as an invitation to shuffle listlessly into the smoking hub I avoid eye contact with an ex I never really dated Get touch...

 Ode To London London’s cold in the winter time de ar Make sure to wrap up Chances of snow are low this year Sorry love God’s a bit backed up And I’ll say goodbye like ten more times And watch as you walk away And in the back of my mind I’ll scream- "I WISH YOU STAYED"

“What are they called?” [normalise writing poetry at gigs] They’re all trying to make it A terrible thought launched to the forefront of my mind A thought I can’t shake, as I stand behind- The merch stand, show a little bra to sell more of his merch The sound guy by me is in a bit of a lerch  Bassists gone flying into the drums Chaos rehearses itself, a soundtrack for ambition. They’re all trying to make it “You know Roze?” I know Roze “how do  you  know Roze?” Funny how a name becomes a meaning, passed around in dim-lit back rooms. But ironically  this  is how “the way things go” They’re all trying to make it I’m trying to ‘make it’ But for now I’ll stand by the merch stand Hoping these T-shirts would sell out The guitarist on stage has a kink for barking He’s in the green room hopes still sparking Wishing his dreams weren’t stitched to mine God I hope his merch sells He’s just trying to make it We’re all trying to make it  But for now, I stand here, battl...

  WO [cliche asf] We could be undeniably woke Carnal in our energy  Speak in metaphors describing the meat in our implied cannibalistic nature We can slice pomegranates like persephone herself  Use fig tree analogies Till our dying bell breath We can crave the poison nature of baby’s breath Claw out our wombs Hold our bloody hands to the sky And shout “this is us” But only in the sense of our minds We can channel in our Lux Name four- on the twenty-sixth day god took the fifth sister She had a taste of a second chance  It was bitter she spat out the seeds And couldn’t live without her sisterhood A five days in a working week Gloria in Excelsis God rested on the seventh Joan heard God and she became a warrior Men hear God and we become submissive  But we will cling to our ribbons and bows  Fire they can’t take away what it means to have the W-O before MAN

  Soho Romance dedicated to [insert name here] The true romantics of our generation   These soho East London boys who beg for female attention   They’re all creatives   They’re all artists You’ve met him on Hinge Because Tinder is overrated They all speak in the same cadence When they speak their poetic thoughts but stop- mid sentence   To force depth into something superficial like the colour of your eyes They’ll pick up their vintage guitars And make you their knowing muse There’s nothing mysterious about them They want you to know they’re creatives too Egos at a high They think they’re better than you Because they invest in raw denim   Because they are men in margiela Because they love the roses and all their fool’s gold Because they can string together a verse and a chorus   About a girl with a name that’s unique but not important   Because they listen- the bare minimum but you’ll never tell them They only listen so they can put depth into the...