Trevor McLeod Poems

Where farts rose quickly on the internet
people went clicking
People more drickling
People were rickly
...

Where the poet died
while writing what,
His hand gone by
for what he thought
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A moist berry was all I could think about.
That burst to wet my tongue.
A quenching I could drain away
for comfort that would numb.
...

Poverty is a soup.
It's the orange cubed carrot you hate.
And the oily broth you'll skim.
It's the hunger for the wait.
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Green Trees to calm our nerves.
Fresh Air to sooth our lungs.
Dampness to cool our heads
and Comfort to fuel our tongues.
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I want to put you all to work
and make you feel as needed.
To make the world a better place
and feel like I've succeeded.
...

Me myself and I
were talking to myselve's
when we asked us a question
and they were not themselves.
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It started with a drink I drank till drunk
when I started to wonder if I'd blink till blunk.

As I opened my eyes in a stink I stunk
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You're an ugly face
with craving skin
I can't wait long to kiss.
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The welfare poem is not for you
and not enough for anyone.
The welfare poem is very small
and not just given to everyone.
...