Hone Tu ware

Warm winter California sun

All around me
People trying to hang on to power
It grows more and more tenacious
By the hour

She’s sweet fifteen but she acts like 21
Knows all the moves yeah she’s a sex bomb
Gonna nuke the world with sexual thrills
Social workers gonna pay her bills

Her eyes like mince pies
In snow-laden skies

The (w)hole in the ocean
The hole in the sky
You never looked around
To wonder “Why?”

Half a mo Joe
I got to go…

I’m a Trojan horse!

Mad woman
You’re so mean
You put my boots in a washing machine

The advocacy worker
Whose green eyes
Seemed to glow with an opalescent fire

Bless the earth, bless the seas
Bless the woman bought me to my knees
Bless the skies, bless the stars
Bless the drunks who hang around in bars

Who’s calling the shots?
And making the grade?
Who’s making the plots?
And must be obeyed?

John Cooper Clarke Evidently Chicken Town

Golfballs littering the landscape like dandruff

I want a woman
With breasts like the tips of nuclear missiles
A smile like the sunrise onboard a long haul jet airliner 10 000 feet up
Thighs like a BMW motorbike’s lines
Legs as sleek as steel pylons
Hair like wire wool
Ways as winning as a successful salesman
As wonton and winsome as a thousand sex chat lines
Arms like robotic manacles to grip me tight all night long
A womb as productive as a weapons factory in all-out war
And a voice like Dolby 7.1 surround sound
Nails as gleaming and polished as a professional torturer’s torture kit
Lips as trembling and pouting as starships waiting to dock
Who will respond to my voice like a Jaguar XKS responds to pressure on the throttle
Who will stay by my side as faithfully as the tax man
Attend to my every need as willingly as a hopeless addict attends to his or her drug needs