Alan Bruce Thompson
Alan Bruce Thompson Poems
She stood there pouting, adopting a film star pose,
As her curvaceous virile body, pushed shape into her clothes.
She perched on her stiletto heels, threw back her blond hair,
She stood high above the crowd, aristocratic, without care.
She rehearsed for hours to become Venus personified,
She got some men excited, the others she mortified.
She swayed along, her hips swinging, so vain.
And all of this performance to collect tickets on a train?
Head Of Honey
I like to fall asleep slowly,
Let the mind-honey flow through my head.
The trickle of mind-treacle through the brain,
And no mind-molasses on the bed.
The best medicine for me,
Is to sleep endlessly.