Poem Archive
They Know Their Place
In leopards’ church the members choose
Their seats when they are tots
They sit there their whole lives because
They cannot change their spots
It’s for Frying Doughnuts
I need to put a hole
Right in the centre of my griddle pan
I’ll get it from the wholesaler
Then there will be no middle, man.
And I’m Abcessive Compulsive
On my chin there is a dimple
And inside it lurks a pimple
Big and ugly, nestling snugly deep within
Of a girlfriend I am dreaming –