Blood in my Alcohol Stream

Last night I had a nightmare
I dreamt I had blood
in my alcohol stream;
it was horribly rainbow coloured
and I was dealing with reality;

I’d shaved my beard!
I’d had a bath!
I was watching “Pop Idol”
not reading Sylvia Plath!

I was riding a white pony
and laughing, chasing fluffy bunny rabbits;
I had finally drunk myself sober,
I had finally lost
my favourite habit!

© Copyright D. Archer October 2011

Eat your Greens

Martin picks his nose
with a pencil or his thumb
he stores the bogeys
inside his books
in case he’s peckish after lunch;

He rolls them into tiny balls
and keeps them under his tongue,
if you see him smiling at the back of the class
it must be a really big one;

He also discovered if he banged his head
that tiny bits would fall out,
and he’d scoop them up like a hamster
and store them in his mouth;

Bu the bogeys got bigger
and more chewy in texture
the more he picked
the less he could remember;
then one day he forgot his name
and he realised the bogeys
were really his brain.

Then when his wrist
went up his nostril quite easy
he suddenly felt quite pale and queasy;
so he stopped this vile habit
on the advice of his mum
and now smells his fingers
after scratching his bum.

© Copyright D. Archer October 2011