Been a busy couple of months, what with a month in California. When I have time I'll write a full post on that. Right now I'm just re-building my life, moved out of the van into a house, doing little bits and pieces of illustration work and trying to find a day job. I've been reading a lot of Beat poetry (mostly Ginsberg and Karaouc) and recent events inspired me to right the following poem, written in my friend's Croydon flat while I was waiting for him to get off the phone with his cousin.
Beware teenage girls
with narriow hips
and puckered lips
wondering hands
and perky tits
those trippy hippy chicks
who chase dicks, but
gaze into your eyes
and sneak kisses under starry skies
and sooth the raging beast inside your soul
and tame with wild animal
till you crave her taste and waste your time
imagining the many crimes
you'd commit to get
your hands upon her tits
and while your heart starts to sing for her, no end
she's describing you to her little friends;
the woman she met at some party
where the music is dark and arty
and the drugs are fresh and free
and the dykes are lonely and naive
and you were just an experiment
and she did not know, to you, just how much
that fucked snog meant.
- Rae Wetherill
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