I should never have joined a group called amateur poetry what was I thinking.

Okay I don't do it for a living but I sweat and bleed over them and work really, really hard on every word until its just right. I pick apart every aspect of it every inflection, I repeat it over and over and over perfecting rhythm and inflection often changing vast swathes of it until the original vision in my head is very differently perfected on a page I realise that sounds very luvvy but its what I do. I never realised how much work you had to put in.

But hey what I should be doing is what some daft bint in Norway suggests hitting the fucking vodka and then spewing my guts about how fucking white the snow is, for fucks sake I feel like catching a flight to Oslo and standing outside this womans house reading this all night.

Maybe I will.......... I'm looking on Skyscanner right now for a flight!

Poetry School

Just picking up a pen don't make you a poet
Prevaricating pauses punctuated by pissy prose
Poncing around like a pimp selling five cent poems
Like old hookers, perfectly willing but not quite able
Maybe you'll never be a poetic kind of angel

Say you can turn words around in, fashions peculiar
And the crowds roar may thrill ya but, don't let it fool ya
Its much more than your thesaurus can explain baby
No matter what your laptop says it don't move and it don't groove
and you ain't nothing proved get your ass to poetry school