Array ( [sid] => 166457 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => drop off- part 1 [time] => 2011-06-02 22:41:40 [hometext] => do i pick it up and run with it,or do I delete? [bodytext] => Friend of a friend was a DJ on the decks
on a Friday night in Southport
riding in the back of his mates escort
dreaming big , wanting to make it
out of the small things he had
kinda makes you sad.
but he couldn't pay his bills...allegedly,
so he swills
and swells
in the canal...
or, so says his pal.

as I sit across, smoking strange stuff and laughing
when I’m meaning to sound concerned
roach burn. Ouch! Always gaffing
I cough and nearly choke
his pal looks at me and freaks
the cheek, but I’m too tired to act
So I retract,
and stay intact.
then I look down for the remainder of the roach

sitting in the coach....... and horses.
Waiting in this unfamiliar place, for a ride.
eventually, whilst not listening to the easy listening tunes
a middle aged man comes into the room
looking round in consciously subdued frantic confusion
in his lee jeans, shouting out my name
without saying anything,
insane.
I get up, and nearly fall over
tonight’s a roll over,
at least for us
drop off about to happen
trying to look normal
so I beckon him over, he looks nervous
I offer him the roach, says he can't be careless
eight points on his license and he doesn't take too well
the last time he touched the stuff his ankles started to swell
I accept his excuse, hang loose, and we alight
as he drives his cab with me and my new pal into the night
a tiny worry, first only slightly, hits
things are moving downstairs, underpants in bits
it's about to happen..... [comments] => 1 [counter] => 130 [topic] => 31 [informant] => poeticjestix [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => StoryPoetry ) Your Poetry Dot Com - drop off- part 1


drop off- part 1
Date: Thursday, 2nd June 2011 @ 10:41:40 PM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: poeticjestix
Friend of a friend was a DJ on the decks
on a Friday night in Southport
riding in the back of his mates escort
dreaming big , wanting to make it
out of the small things he had
kinda makes you sad.
but he couldn't pay his bills...allegedly,
so he swills
and swells
in the canal...
or, so says his pal.

as I sit across, smoking strange stuff and laughing
when I’m meaning to sound concerned
roach burn. Ouch! Always gaffing
I cough and nearly choke
his pal looks at me and freaks
the cheek, but I’m too tired to act
So I retract,
and stay intact.
then I look down for the remainder of the roach

sitting in the coach....... and horses.
Waiting in this unfamiliar place, for a ride.
eventually, whilst not listening to the easy listening tunes
a middle aged man comes into the room
looking round in consciously subdued frantic confusion
in his lee jeans, shouting out my name
without saying anything,
insane.
I get up, and nearly fall over
tonight’s a roll over,
at least for us
drop off about to happen
trying to look normal
so I beckon him over, he looks nervous
I offer him the roach, says he can't be careless
eight points on his license and he doesn't take too well
the last time he touched the stuff his ankles started to swell
I accept his excuse, hang loose, and we alight
as he drives his cab with me and my new pal into the night
a tiny worry, first only slightly, hits
things are moving downstairs, underpants in bits
it's about to happen.....

This poem is Copyright © poeticjestix


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