Poet Authority Poem Terminal

She wasn't with them at the time.

Tried snowboarding in less than favourable conditions,

(No snow)

Their boards got scratched on the concrete or whatever was beneath them.

They left unfulfilled.

Unhappy.

The big summery sort that people wear when the sun's out.

I slapped them across my aching eyes,

Balanced upon my sweat laced nose,

As you'd expect.

I departed the store, shoulders back, proud as could be.

Immediately rain slathered the lenses.

This was damn near unbelievable.

It was hard to believe families still exist these days,

But it is what it is.

I aimed for the smallest of the bunch and picked up the pace.

Declared myself Moses.

The resulting celebrations barely existed.

In fact, I seemed surrounded by anger.

I barely even expect mentions of it in some grand old tomes at this point.

Walked for miles upon miles.

My feet formed into an ocean,

Felt like treading in the sea,

But painful.

That's just the sort of thing they'd do

In this climate,

With this government.

He cut them out and stitched in some of the old mediums.

Things felt better after that.

On release he gave the scheme another try.

The judge expressed his disappointment.

Told him to stop doing that sort of thing,

To learn from his mistakes.

That would be one apple before his trip to McDonald's.

There was nothing.

He was as slick as could be.

Geraldine struggled for traction.

She flew off and cracked her head open on the wall.

Dated a tall woman.

Whose name was something like Marcus

Was busy remonstrating with a few police officers.

So moist was he

That the police refused to believe

He wasn't hiding an operational hosepipe under his clothes.

It diminished my imposing appearance.

Minions began to ignore my orders.

The chair sapped my anger.

My minions remained blind to me

Enamoured by the chair.

Once that was in the bag he loaded up his brand new van with Lego.

Drove to the building site.

He'd spend the time at work knocking up all sorts of rubbish.

When anyone complained he'd just hold up the bricks and sort of shrug.

The other builders couldn't work out what to make of that.

Eventually they joined in.

Eventually no one had any homes to live in.

Flint would reverse into Kerry's car.

This was one of his ideas.

Kerry was, it's fair to say, quite the looker.

He needed to know she had his details.

This could be his only chance.

His wife informed him she'd be seeing other people until the situation resolved itself.

His career took a turn for the worse too.

Would that be enough?

Upon further consideration I realised this would cause quite some pain.

Not to mention the mess.

Instead I sent along a nail clipping,

Taped to a short note.

The rubbish lady scoured the aisles.

"Rubbish please."

Her eyes burrowed deep into my depleating Coke.

"Rubbish please!"

I chugged down the lot.

Burped uncontrollably into her bag.

Apologised for the delay.

And then more things to some things.

A means to an end.