Love Ooze


I've got an empty drum in my belly
Tugged through the slum of waded welly
Wet slosh and shingle grind
It's because I feel so left behind

Sometimes I forget this mush and read
Of other's flush and flexible deeds
It feels like they are in my gut
That I'm that happy-go-Mammon slut

Or, I'm next to Dad on the sofa arm
Full of Roald Dahl snozcumber alarm
Excited by the pull of tonal plea
Then placated by fantastical scenery

But now I'm alone on a sofa cushion
Thinking of women and pencil pushing
Wondering where my next comfort resides
That next ounce of love ooze warmth hides


8th June