Bop is Cancelled.

Pathetic.

Effort? From Entz?

That “theme” was (obvs)

Never going

To get past college —

And now my birthday

Bop is cancelled.

New Year’s Party

Theme: anything for a dollar bill. Setting: south-south London, Uber territory. Two, three jabs of punch and a pastel John Dory. Restless thirty-thirst, seeking mutual thrill. Idea! We know it’s drink talking, but drink tells good stories. Follow our liquid raconteur out on to the grass. Instant blow to seat a weaker man firmly on his arse. I’m sorry but I’m so angry. Recompense, freeze. Feel like sounds have thickened in the drum. Back inside giggling with our paper cash prize, Informing every ear what it missed with its eyes. My own ear, for now, bust like a lip. For another dollar I’ll swallow that tulip.

The Post Box

The child says that post box is red.

The student exclaims, “That post box is blood-red.”

The school-poet suggest That post box is blushing scarlet.

The moron asserts That post box is red as a step-daddy striking mother in a whiskey cloud.

The writer says that post box is red.

Tinder

I plan to preserve youth by cyclically dating 22-year-olds

In brine.

I think it will be easy because they are all

Online.

The Ferryman

He liked Keats, Shelley, and Lord Byron;

That bought him favour with Charon:

The ferryman proved a most frightful Romantic

And bumped up his Styx ply to a cruise transatlantic.

Party

People beat me over the head with their

Boring lives.

And then, with an equal and opposite

Viciousness,

I beat them with mine.